Danie Rossouw's World Cup Diary

During September and October 2011, Danie Rossouw's World Cup diaries were posted:

1 September 2011:




To help me remember all my memories, my captain and our water carrier, John Smit, did suggested that I wrote a diary of all my activities during the World Cup. He also tolded me that I should write in English, because it would help me, because he says I sometimes come across as a bit fick and English would make me look klever. Kak!



Anyways, today are the big day. We are leafing South Africa and on our ways to the Wold Cup. John says it's in New Zealand this year, which is where I toured earlier in the Drie Nations while many of our best players were in hospital at the beaches.



This is my furd world cup which means I am respected the mostest by so many off the younger laaitjies. They is so intimidated by me, that they don't evens want to sit next to me on the plane, which is a pity, cos I can teach them how to keep their brains occupied during long flights. I like to punch the player next to me. Juslike! It's so funny. I hope Bakkies doesn't sit next to me again, because he doesn't seem to understand the rules properly.



I had a one-on-one session wiff the coach yesterday. Well it was supposed to be one-on-one, but Victor came wiff us to translate what that funny little guy kept saying. I don't know what he says, but it's so funny when he talks. I can't stop laughing. Anyway, Victor says that I need to work on my handling skills, which is stupid because I has two hands, just like everybody else. I showed him by lifting them in the air, but they knocked the fan on the ceiling off it's bracket and was about to fall on the coach, but I finked quickly and tried to catch it before it hit him in the face. The coach looks very angry now wiff the eight stitches in his head and he has a broken toe where I did standed on him, before I tripped and headbutted Victor by mistake. Bakkies heard the noise and came in and unleashed some of "God's fury" as he calls it. Victor had to hold Bakkies back and stroke his head softly until Bakkies had his shot.



Pierre, is very excited about going to the world cup because he could not go last time because apparently there was a mistake at the piss testing place last time. He said they gaved him a really cheap glass to piss in and it melted before he could hand it to the doctors. To stop the glass from melting, Pierre now has to go to the toilets wiff the nice physio lady. More good news for Pierre. The doctor says he are pregnant.



Bryan is also in a happy mood, because he says he only really plays his bestest rugby during world cups. He says after the last world cup he tried out some new tactics by pretending to run slower and not being able to do much on the rugby field. He said he did looked to me for that inspiration. It's nice that I can be the guy's hero.



I don't know where the coach will be playing in me in this world cup, because I can play anywhere in the backrow. I overheard him saying to John that I would be lucky to be on the bench. So looks like I'm starting.



Morne tolded me that of all the fings I need to catch, I must make sure that I catch the plane to New Zealand. He's so funny, the plane only leaves... OH KAK!

4 September 2011:




I are arrived!



After catching the wrong plane, then knocking a few others on, I finally gotted a plane to New Zealand.



It's strange to think that I was here only a month ago with at least two other guys in this squad, in an attempt to show the world the Springboks strength in depth. Unfortunately we was robbed in that game by the referee and the All Blacks, who kept scoring tries and refusing to let us score tries. It's just not cricket.



The New Zealand peoples has gone world cup crazy! Everywhere I go all the talk is about the world cup. So far I has been to our hotel and the rugby ground and the rugby training place and the gym and press conferences. Jusus people! Don't you have anything else to talk about?



Press conferences take much longer in New Zealand because all the New Zealand reporters do a Haka before they ask a question. John says that we has to respect their culture and wait patiently until they are finished, before telling them how kak the All Blacks are without Carter.



But it is not just the reporters. We are respecting culture everywhere. Passport control - Haka - then checks passport. Luggage handler - Haka - then carries bag. Bus driver - Haka - then drives bus. Hotel check in clerk - Haka - then checks us in. Waitress at restaurant - Haka - then takes our order. I don't means to complains but if I see one more Haka I fink I'm going to fucking lose it. Tomorrow we is going to the Maori cultural museum.



Found out that there's a problem wiff our kit for the tournament. Our kit manager, Francois Louw, says that we has enough Springbok tops for the entire tournament, but we only have enough armbands for four matches! John says that we will have to act like men and not complain too much, however we will of course be wearing them against Wales after what what their coach said about our team. What a poes!



I did make a joke about the Wales coach's name. I asked John what his name are and John said it is "Katlund" and I said, "Ja nee, more like Gatland". Jusus I laughed! I don't fink John understooded my funny joke.



Another problem wiff the armbands! As the armbands are black, we are not allowed to wear them because to wear black on the rugby field is to disrespect rugby culture. Bakkies did suggested that we wear armbands about not being able to wear armbands, but then we will be wearing more black and that's just going to make more trouble and we've upset the England camp enough by suggesting that they play a limited form of rugby by playing wiff a kicking flyhalf and expecting their big forwards to bash it up. Stupid England rugby tactics make I laugh.



Totsiens

Danie

6 September 2011




Bad news. Looks like I are starting at lock on Sunday against Whales. My dynamic running and handling skills is better used playing as a loose forward, but I are a team player and will sacrifice my talent for the good of the team. Looks like Bakkies is too scared and the Boks need a real man to take the heat.



Must check with John if Bakkies does knows how to read the internet before I are publishing this entry.



There are some good news however. The Maori people (the cleaners and gardeners of New Zealand, if you know what I means) will be supporting the Boks after we did attended a Maori ceremony and John did say very respectful fings and I fink he gave their chief a bottle of Klippies because they were very happy when we left and did not try to steal our hubcaps.



The coach are still being very funny. This time he are saying that John is the best hooker in the world at a press conference. We did all try to keep a straight face after he said that, but I could see some okes were giggling. Luckily I still don't understand what the coach are saying when he talks and had to ask Victor afterwards what the joke was. It was so funny man. I almost kakked myself.



I has single handedly solved the armbands problem. After we were told that we can't wear black on the rugby field because it will upset England, we didn't know what to do about the armbands. But I did fink very hard about the problem. I did fink and I did fink until there was nothing I aint funk. I was breathing in the stink until finally I stunk, because I like to fink while I have a kak and then it camed to me. The solution was so simple man. I gotted all the armbands together and I did painted them green. Juslike, you should have seen John's face when I did show him my good work the next morning. Who's the stupid one now?



Totsiens

Danie

9 September 2011




It are started! It have taken four years, but finally... I are chosen on merit ahead of Bakkies.



Bakkies are pretending that he are injured, but he knowses that after by brilliant form in the Drie Nations, the coach could not leave me out. Even John admitted that he has not seen ball carrying skills like mine since Dewet Barry. I fink he is hinting that I are to be playing in the centres soon, like Sonny Bill Nonu.



We know one thing about Sunday, it are not going to be easy. World Cup fever means that many fans will be wanting my "X" before and after the match but I keep forgetting to spell it. We will also be playing Wales on Sunday.



We are experiencing a bit of a "Suzie" in the camp. "Suzie" is a code word used for meaning that rugby players are poisoned. I don't knows who came up wiff it. Anyway, according to what is called the "Januarie contract" (I guess that was when it was signed) the entire camp is supplied wiff one hundred pies a day and now we has a few thousand pies waiting to be ated before they go vrot. It might have becomed a serious medical issue, but I has founded new respect for our skipper and Frans as they said that they will take care of the problems. I don't know where they chucked them, but all the pies are now gone.



The guys did try to play a joke on me about the match on Sunday. At first, the guys tolded that it was a night match, but when I did phoned home, my ma said it was a morning match. I fink the okes are trying to catch me out. I are not stupid.



I don't know how many more diary entries I can write on this stupid laptop, because I does keep dropping it and it are starting to make a funny sound. Whoever invented gravity is a doos!



Totsiens

Danie

After beating Wales in the Springboks opening match:

12 September 2011:




Jus man, that were close. After all the talk and after all the build up, we managed to do what many peoples did not fink we was capable off doing, we won wiff John on the field for most of the match.



I guess this proves the coach right about John being the best hooker in the world. Maybe there just is not any competition, because I did watch the England game on Saturday and I did see their number two kiss the other number two and I was always taughted that real hookers don't kiss.



But my hats does goes off to Whales too. They did play very well, because some of the times I did run wiff the ball, they did manage to make me knock the ball on, which is very unusual for me. Their captain did play with an unfair advantage, because he has the word "war" in his names. If we had a player in our team named after a fighting event or a warring machine, I is sure we would to betters. Must check with Victor if "Chilli" can be dangerous to other players, to give us an advantage.



Speaking off Victor, he are getting too old and cannot play a full game anymore. I are usually a "super-sub", but the coach did needed me for the full eighty minutes. I are very fit, but as fit as I are, Pierre are amazing. He are so fit, that after the game he did do one thousand push-ups and one thousand sit-ups in the changing rooms. I don't know how we do it. It almost like he did not do anyfing in the match.



After the match, many of the media peoples were complaining about one of the kicks, which they did say was a kick, but then the others did say it was not a kick. I don't know if a knee to the head counts as a kick, but I are glad that I are not that poor Argentinian oke.



Next up are Fiji and they did look very dangerous in their first match, so the coach might play his strongest team instead of the B team that did played on Sunday. Wiff Jean out for ten days, it be most likely that are to play at centre.



Totsiens

Danie

16 September 2011:




Tomorrow we are to playing against the Fiji, who haves a proud history of eating people.



I know this because I did do my research before the game. Victor usually does the research but because he are at rehabiliation at a nice hotel resort (outside of New Zealand off course), the coach did asked me to do the research on the opposition.



Victor's research are only about when to do jumpings in the line-out, which are boring and many of his line-out calls are numbers more than ten, so I don't really understand. He did however work on a special call for just me called "spring poes", which are code for the ball are coming to Danie.



But my research is much betters. I did go onto the internet and founded out good research. At the team gathering I did present my feedbacks as follows:



"Fiji are in the south Pacific, this means that they are in a big peace of water, but at the bottoms of that waters, not the top.



The whole Fiji team are black people (not that I does have a problem with that), this means that their gentlemen's agreement about affirmative action is working very well and the entire team does comes from previously disadvantaged areas. So make sure you leave your wallets in the bus before you go to the change rooms.



Fiji people are liking to be cannonballs. This does not mean that they does smoke dagga. This does means that they eat other peoples, so try not to spill barbeque sauce on yourself before the game.



Because the whole team is black (not that I does have a problem with that), it means that they will all be very fast. At the olympics there was one guy called Bolt who are also black (not that I does have a problem with that) and he I runs faster than anybody else, even other black (not that I does have a problem with that) guys. I did watch the movie Bolt to understand how his mind does work and I can confirm, he are a very lucky doggy.



So the tactic is that we should tackle the black (not that I does have a problem with that) guys before they have a chance to run fast. Akona, don't worry, because at your pace I don't think you will be mistaken for a black (not that I does have a problem with that) guy."



I fink my presentation did go well because only Akona did give me feedback, saying that he are not Akona, he are Odwa. How the poes am I supposed to know that? I don't want to be sounding like a racialist, but he looks just like the other wing who did play for us. I wonder where Lwazi are now.



Totsiens

Danie

20 September 2011:




Bokke! I are so hungry for some decent South African meat here in New Zealand. I are sick of fuckings sheep!



Anyways, the game on Saturday were a awesome game. We played out off our socks. Not literally. We all did kept our socks on. It are a saying like you can’t judge a book by its cover and Australia are kak.



After the Whales game, we really needed to be pulling up our socks. Again this are just a saying like don’t judge a tiger by its spots or Australia are very kak. But every man did give one hundred and thousand percent against the Fiji. Our backline were awesome! Our flanks is awesome. Even Pierre, who were criticised after the Whales game for being too Reuben Thorne were awesome. Me and Bakkies was awesome. Gurthro and Jannie was awesome. And John were... making good interviews after the game.



I off course are beings modestly awesome again, because I are awesomely modest. My man of the match award were well deserved. I maded Fiji look like a tier two rugby nations. I did take command off the lineout. My codes “Spring poes”, “Spring asseblief meneer” and “Spring slapgat nommer agt” were unbreakable. Our special code of “Passop, John word kakker en kakker elke dag en niemand weet waar die vokken bal gaan gaan” were the only code that were broken by the opposition.



Next up are Nam. I did do some good research on them agains and don’t expect much problems from them because the internets did tell me that the only team that they have beaten are the United States and that were only in the 1970s, so I don’t expect them to be any trouble for the mighty Kudu!



Vok! Ek moet eet.



Totsiens

Danie

29 September 2011:




I could tried to tell you what did happened in the Nam game, but you wasn't there man. You wasn't there. Unless you was there. Then you did see us poesklap them.



We did score ten tries! And then we did score two tries! Nobody really knows how many in total that comes to, but it's poes baie.



A big congratulations are to be going to out to Bryan, who did score a try against Nam and his first of the tournament, which are half the amount off tries that are I scored in the tournament so fars. Well done Bryan.



Despite what the scoreboard are said, we did not have fings all our ways, especially in the line-outs. Wiff Victor still at the golf recovery hospital resort centre, I was in charge off all the line-out calls again and even though my calls were unbreakable, they did seem to know where the ball are goings. So I did cleverly suggest that I would change the codes to the numbers on the jumpers backs, but are to be saying them in Afrikaans, so that they could not understands. Believe it or not they still seemed to be knowing where the ball did go. I guess it did not help that John can only speak English and Kwazulu Natal.



But anyways, we arse top off our table wiff only one game left, but it are not going to be a easy game. It are against Samoa, which is the factory country that makes Lomus. The latest batch are also having working livers.



I remember back in the 1995 Rugby World Cup tournament, when I was still in my early twenties, the Boks did play "Western Somoa" back then. So now that North, East and South Samoa are joining them, they are going to be much stronger. Imagines how strong South Africa would be if we allowed South West Africa and Zimbabwe players to play for us. I did suggested this to the Beast (not his real name) and he did say that home affairs might not like that idea. What the fuck has my Liefie and my boetie gotted to do wiff foreign players?



Victor are recovered from his holiday injuries and are captain, while John are to be rested until the next media interviews. I don't know if the coach will be calling Victor the best hooker in the world after this game, but it are looking like Bakkies are Victor will be fightings for the second lock spot for the rest of the tournaments.



Totsiens

Danie

 

2 October 2011:




And then there was eight. The remaining teams is the Bokke, the All Blacks B team, the team that lost to Ireland, the reserve team for next year's Drie Nations, the team that lost to a holiday resort island, Jonny Wilkinson, the Whales, the team that plays in green that are looking so impressive and the Ireland.



I did counted us twice because we is so good.



I could mention another team if I wanted to, because I still have a finger left, but I are not here to brag about my counting skills.



So anyways, Friday was like a war man. We pushed hard all the way. I didn't fink we was going to hold on, but in the end we did hold on until the end and we managed to get through the press conference without John as the captain telling the reporters the answers.



The match against Somoa was also very hard. High tackles, off the ball tackles, punching and eye gouging, or Schalk as he are also are known said that it were one of the toughest matches he did ever plays in.



Off course, when you is playing such a physical matches, there is always consequences and the injury clouds has struck the Bok camp. I are picked up a cut on my ear and did needed a plaster by the doctor during the match, but I are tough and will be ready to play in the next matches. And Frans are going home, which are a big loss to the camp, because if France are making the final against us, we are needing a translator and the only other option is Hougaard, but he are more of a Francois, so I don't think he are understanding the language properly.



Wiff Bismarck and John switching places from the opening games, it were John's turn to show what he can do as a "impact player" and I are to be takings my hat off to John as he probably had his best match off the tournament so fars. Very little bad throws in the line-out. Very little missed tackles. Very few errors in the dying minutes off the game. I are starting to see why he are rated so highly.



The media buzz about my awesome form continues and there are rumours that I are to get a legendary iconic rugby move to be named after me for the future generations to enjoy. Just like Campese is knowning for making the "Goose step" there are suggestions that I are becoming a legend wiff my powerful runs. I don't know the full story, but apparently when one team is awarded a scrum, it are because the opposition did run at them wiff lots of space and then made a "Danie". I fink this are meaning that they are showing majestic skills.



Totsiens

Danie

 

7 October 2011:




As I are had great success wiff my studies off the teams so fars, I are decided to help the coach wiff my own analysis off the line-ups for Sunday.



Here are Danie’s head-on-head analysis per position:



15 Kurtley Beale vs Pat Lambie

There are no denying that Kurtley are a very talented rugby player. He are probably the best fullback in the world at the moment. His running from the back reminds me of Christian Cullen when used to play for Munster. Pat are getting better and better in every match. He can evens tackle players without even holding onto them (according to the refs).

Adv Austria



14 James O'Connor vs Bryan Habana

I are not saying that James are pretty, but if I was a girl, I would be wishing I was a gay man. He are a good wing however, but his kicking at posts are like Jonny Wilkinson wiff an old ball. Bryan are getting better and better. We was kak, now he are a bit of a fart.

Evens



13 Adam Ashley-Cooper vs Jaque Fourie

Adam are moving back to centre from the wing. I are a firm believer that you can’t keep playing a quality player in different positions. Only kak players can’t hold onto their preferred position, like Bakkies. Jaque are had a good start against Whales, but are quiet recently, despite three backline moves in the last two games.

Adv Bokke



12 Pat McCabe vs Jean de Villiers

Pat are a name for touch rugby and foreplay. What hope do he have against the best inside centre at the rugby world cup? Unfortunately Frans are injured and Jean are filling his place. But Jean are still a very good player and will no doubt be in the Austria backline attempting to catch the ball instead of tackling players.

Adv Bokke



11 Digby Ioane vs JP Pietersen

Digby are have some great moves. After he are scoring a try. JP are playing wiff a broken knee.

Evens



10 Quade Cooper vs Morné Steyn

What can be said about Quade that are not been said yet? Poesklap pielletjie are a possibility. But he are hated so much because he are so dangerous. Especially if you are leaving DVD players lying around. Morné are the leading point scoring at the world cup, which are proof that centres don’t need a ball.

Evens



9 Will Genia vs Fourie du Preez

Will are such a good scrumhalf that if was South African, would be considered for a touring squad to go to the Northern Hemisphere for the autumn internationals. Four years ago, Fourie are the best scrumhalf in the world. I are presuming nothing have changed.

Adv Bokke



8 Radike Samo vs Pierre Spies

The other day Victor and I are laughing that Radike are still playing rugby at his age. I guess Austria’s youngsters aren’t good enough to step up to the plates and have to rely on players well past their prime. Pierre are so quick that even if you watch matches in slow motion, you still can’t see him hitting the rucks.

Adv Bokke



7 David Pocock vs Heinrich Brüssow

The Australian media keep going on how David dominates Heinrich in previous head to heads. How stupid are they? Statistics of previous encounters are meaningless and head to heads are stupid because it are a team sport. Heinrich has always been in the winning teams when playing against McCaw, who was the world player off the year last year.

Evens



6 Rocky Elsom vs Schalk Burger

Rocky were once the most feared player in club rugby in Ireland. Since then his form are not so great. I don’t know what have changed. Schalk are looking back to his best before his injuries and citing committees.

Adv Bokke



5 James Horwill vs Victor Matfield

James are captain off Austria and therefore must be respected like Gregan used to be respected. He are up against Victor who are considered as the second best lock in this year’s world cup.

Adv Bokke



4 Dan Vickerman vs Danie Rossouw

Ag please man. Don’t make I laugh.

Adv Bokke



3 Ben Alexander vs Gurthrö Steenkamp

Ben are known for being one off the fastest props in world rugby. And this are not just backwards in the scrum. Gurthro are getting the nod ahead of the Beast because he are… um…

Adv Bokke



2 Stephen Moore vs John Smit

Stephen are a bit off a joke as an international hooker. He cannot throw in the line-out. He cannot tackle. He cannot run or make the hard yards wiff the ball in hand. He are basically a waste off space at international level.

Adv Austria



1 Sekope Kepu vs Jannie du Plessis

Kepu are stuck wiff the image of being an Australian prop, despite spending much of his time between the locks. Danie are make joke! Jannie are like a fatter, older version of Bismarck, which are the best hooker on the bench in world rugby.

Adv Bokke

Bokke - 14


Austria - 2

Evens - 2



Totsiens

Danie

 

12 October 2011:




WTP?



It are now three days after the Australia match and I are still not knowing how we did loose that match. We did DOMINATE (trademark pending) them for almost all of the match, but in the end the calculator boffins did tell us that Australia did score more points against us than we did score against them.



I has been asked a lot since the match about that last penalty kick to Australia. I still don't know what happened. It were a Australia line-out inside our half and the linesman did say I did grab the Australian jumper. That are kak! I did not even jump! Victor was the one to push Samoan in the air. All I did was punch the Australian prop next to me and Schalk were busy gouging the other prop's eyes. I think it are a referee and linesman conspiracy against the Bokke to knock us out of the world cup. But I don't think it will work. Not on my watch!



We were all very sad in the change-room after the game. It were deathly quiet, except for Pierre who were doing lunges and power squats. We could hear the celebrations coming from the change-room opposite ours, which had laughter and high fives. There were also a lot of cheers coming from the Australia change-room.



I don't know if I will play for the Bokke again, because the Bokke now needs to build for the futures. So I will gracelessly step aside for the future and hand over the ball to the next up and coming Danie. I hope he can catch.



Totsiens

Danie

 

Gather round children

I know that many children follow my blog and as it's now Christmas Eve, I thought I'd share a special secret with you.

Your parents lied to you. There is no Santa Claus. There is no Father Christmas. They don't really love you. You are adopted.

Merry Christmas.

Secret Satan

This week we did secret Santa at work. I was given a Mensa puzzle. I showed my wife. She said, "Whoever got you that, doesn't know you very well."

I wittily replied, "Go fuck yourself."

And added, "What the fuck is Mensa anyway?"

And then, "Boobs!"

Followed by, "Where's my dinner?"

My wife is a bit slow and didn't reply to any of my thought provoking questions.

My Mensa gift makes an awesome ball-scratcher.

A bright idea

This year I have solved Christmas.

By that I don't mean that I have any evidence to prove that receiving is better than giving (it is), but I mean that I solved one of the biggest agonies that comes hand-in-hand with the day we celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, whose life brought death to millions over the centuries.

Some of the big problems we face over the Christmas period is:
- Christmas music in every fucking shop.
- Visiting relatives we wouldn't normally visit because we want inheritance.
- Christmas shopping in packed shops crammed with idiots (while listening to Christmas music).
- Sending and receiving Christmas cards to people we don't like.
- Hiding the corpses of the dead hookers.
- Untangling fairy lights for the stupid fucking Christmas tree.

This year I've decided to tackle the last point.

To those of you who don't celebrate fairy lights for Christmas trees because you're a terrorist or you don't have a wife, let me tell you about the joys of fairy lights. When you first buy them, they come neatly packed in a little cardboard box. Once you remove them from this cardboard box they will never again go back into that cardboard box. It's just one of those laws of physics things. Not only will they never go back into a small container again, they will also never be without knots again. The more you try to untangle fairy light knots, the more knots will be created. Fairy lights are also quite fragile and once one breaks then none of them will work, because they all run on one circuit.

So this year, the wife and I (the wife) decided that we're going to have a Christmas tree with all the decorations. She was in charge of buying the tree (plastic). Putting the tree together (funny to watch). And decorating it with girly shit like flowers, crystals and tampons. I was in charge of the fairy lights.

So I headed off to the most upmarket store in London and bought the most expensive fairy lights known to man, came home and:

Once Christmas is over, all I have to do is shove the plug back into the box and pack it up for next year.

I am a genius!

Marital blisters

Somebody recently asked me if marriage was as advertised. Now that I've been married for over half a year, I think I can speak with authority about marriage.

Thinking back to when I was single, I remember when I would wake up alone. I'd have the whole bed to myself and I could fart as much as I wanted to.

Now when I wake up, it's usually because of a cold feeling I get. This cold feeling is usually derived from the evil entity in the room that has stolen all the duvet and is currently wrapped in a duvet cocoon, like a caterpillar waiting to burst out into a horrible tantrum. I try pull a little bit of the duvet back towards my quarter of the bed, but I fear waking the creature within.

It's not just the cold that wakes me. Sometimes I wake up feeling a sharp pain in my leg. I turn in bed and see evil red eyes staring at me, followed by the sound of an unworldly voice, "Move your leg!" I try to go back to sleep, but the the fear and snoring keeps me awake for hours. As I finally drift off to sleep the entity punches my nose. I hear the devil's voice again, "Move your face!"

So I'd have to say that marriage is as advertised. The advert however is Paranormal Activity.

Giving the cold shoulder

My wife is currently fighting a case of man-flu. While my wife stayed home, I went off to work and we had the following conversation via e-mail:


Wife: *Sniff* Where's my Lemsip?

Sad muppet: In the kitchen. I might be home late tonight, as I have to scour the bars for eligible young ladies to replace you.

Wife: Why would you replace me? I might not die...

Sad muppet: Sounds like you don't have much time left in this world. Oh well, you had a good run.

Wife:  I'm feeling a bit *cough* better *sneeze*.

Sad muppet:  If you feel like you're not going to make it, do you mind dieing in the shed? It would be awkward for me if I bring a lady friend home tonight and there's a corpse in the house. I'm sure you understand.

Wife: If I do go to the shed to die, what are you going to do with my corpse? How are you going to explain that to your new lady?

Sad muppet: Don't worry. I'll have you buried once she's left the next morning. I'm not insensitive.

Wife: Are you going to lock me in the shed when you get home?

Sad muppet: No. I presume you'll de dead by then. No need to keep you locked up.

Wife: What if a fox eats my decomposing limbs?

Sad muppet: Less of you to bury. Cost saving.

Wife: But I'd rather be buried with ALL my limbs.

Sad muppet: Why? Are you going to need them?

Wife: Well, no, but I thought it would be nice to return to the earth complete.

Sad muppet: And you will. It's just that some of it will be returned via a fox's bum.

Wife:  I hope this news doesn't upset you, but I think I'm probably not going to die for another few years.

Sad muppet: We'll see about that.

Wife: If I die in mysterious circumstances, you're going to be well banged up.

Sad muppet:  Is a knife in the back while you sleep known as "mysterious circumstances"?

Wife: Not really...

Sad muppet: What if you're in a room by yourself? The room can only be unlocked from the inside and you have no arms or legs.

Wife: Block of ice!

Sad muppet: You watch too much CSI. By the way, I'm expecting a delivery of a large block of ice. Could you please turn the heating off until I get home. Thanks

Wife: What's happening to my arms and legs?

Sad muppet: Fell off due to your cold and a chainsaw incident.

Wife: Would you say that chainsaw + limbs = "fell off"?

Sad muppet: Hmmm... sounds like mysterious circumstances to me.

Wife:  I would like to go on record and say I am fundamentally against the whole block of ice and chainsaw idea.

Sad muppet: But I was going to do an ice-sculpture of you.

Wife: Oh.  Sorry. Well, OK then. But please keep the chainsaw away from my legs and arms.

Sad muppet: The thing is, ice-sculpting is difficult and it would be easier if my model didn't have limbs. I'm sure you can appreciate this.

Wife:  I think I would rather - all things considered - to keep my limbs and sacrifice the ice sculpture.

Sad muppet: Why must you always piss on my ideas? Why can't you just support me for once?

Wife: I'm sorry. You can cut my limbs off.

Sad muppet: Thank you! That means so much to me. You're awesome. Now go to the shed and die.

Taking the Minnie

I have recently returned from a holiday in Orlando, Florida. As is the custom for Orlando visitors, I was forced to go to Disney World. The main part of Disney World is called the Magic Kingdom. This is where the big gay castle is and where the old school Disney characters like Goofy, Pluto and Donald Duck hang out. There are also a few hundred other characters marauding the streets bursting out into song in order to piss adults off even more than they already are. Kids fucking love it, because kids are stupid.

Now the head of all the Disney characters is Mickey Mouse. He leads the parades. He gets the best lines in the songs. He's always front and centre on the main stage.

Next to him in all the songs is Minnie Mouse.

If you ignore the Hitler salute, do you see a difference between these two characters? Minnie has three eyelashes above each eye. There are no other differences. She doesn't even have tits. It's difficult to tell in two dimensional drawings, but while at the Magic Kingdom I confirmed this.

So Mickey and Minnie are the so called head of the Disney family. The mother and father if you like, but interestingly enough Mickey and Minnie aren't married. This is according to Walt Disney himself. But wait you say, because you talk out loud while reading blogs. If they're not married, why do they have the same surname?

This brings us back to them looking identical to each other except for the fake eyelashes. Yes, those eyelashes are not real! I can prove this by telling you that they're drawings. I rest my case.

So if Mickey and Minnie look identical and they have the same surname, what does this mean? Yes, they're related. Minnie is probably a man. And they're both into animal love. These are the role models of American children.

So if you have young impressionable children, why don't you take them to Disney World and let them worship mutant incestuous gay beastiality loving freaks, who get the police involved when a mild mannered tourist touches Minnie's chest.

It's a sick world!

Beirut v2

I work in central London and leaving work last night I could feel the sense of dread in the air.

The traffic seemed to be moving slowly as though it was aware that rocks and petrol bombs could have been thrown at any moment. People walked past me in the streets without smiling or greeting me.

I walked past my local Waitrose and the shutters were down on all the windows with signs on them saying "open as usual", but there was nothing usual about a Waitrose with its shutters down at 5:30pm on a weekday afternoon. I wasn't able to look through the windows at the display cases to see what specials were to be had on the day. I walked on by, knowing that the economy was failing as my money would not be spent in Waitrose that afternoon.

I walked past a local pub. It usually teemed with life at this time of the day and it wasn't unusual to see as many as twenty people outside, enjoying their drinks while they smoked. But a quick count told me that the riots were destroying this pub landlord's income as there were only sixteen people outside. I walked on.

I reached my local underground station to find out that the local Costa Coffee was closed. I would have to complete my thirty minute tube ride parched. How many more parched pregnant women and children would there be? The tube itself was chaotic. Commuters who obviously sensed the terrorists gathering outside were bundling themselves into trains that were already full. We were fleeing the city like rats on a sinking ship. I couldn't even get a seat for three stops.

A woman sat opposite me reading the Evening Standard which had the headline "London's Shame". She seemed to be ignoring the lead story and preferred to read the fashion items. She was obviously trying force some normality back into her life, but sensing that life would never be the same again.

Further along the carriage I heard a baby cry. A baby! Why would these rioters make a baby cry? What's wrong with them? What has a baby ever done to them?

I reached my station and started walking home. Outside of the station a man ran past me. He was wearing a sweatband around his forehead, no doubt stolen from a hard working proudly British resident, who had put his life-savings into headbands. The saddest part was that the police weren't even chasing him. He had the streets to himself. Where would he loot next? I walked on.

A couple walked past me with their poodle, obviously too scared to leave their home without the protection of a canine. I walked on.

I reached my home and I locked myself in. I checked that all my windows were locked and I counted my tinned goods. I was safe for one more night.

Charity starts at home

For three nights in a row there have been riots in London. The riots started after a protest took place over a police shooting, but what was suppose to be a peaceful march, soon turned into looting of stores and burning of property.

The fact of the matter is it just isn't safe in London after the sun goes down as riots are breaking out all over the city. I am in the fortunate position of being able to live outside of London, so I feel safe at night, but many of my work colleagues aren't able to escape the city centre after working hours. This morning I heard many stories of rioting going on outside their homes and flats. Many of them didn't get much sleep, as they didn't feel safe in their own homes.

Unfortunately we don't know how much longer these riots are going to go on for and I wish to extend the hand of charity to my friends and work colleagues, who live in central London to spend the night at my home, away from danger. Even if it's just for one night, I don't think you can really put a price on your own safety and a good night's sleep.

So if you're interested please send me an email and I'll see how many people I can put up for the night. Obviously I don't have enough room for hundreds of people, but I'll do what I can.

P.s. - Men and fat/old chicks need not apply.

Spouse cake

The wife and I have retired for the evening. We are lying in bed late on a Saturday night (about 10pm), waiting for sleep to take its hold, so that we can get through the weekend as quickly as possible before the sweet relief of Monday morning eases us away from our marital bliss, when...

Wife: You know how those Argentinian rugby players crashed in the Andes years ago and the survivors ate the dead in order to stay alive?

(Awkward silence for about a minute, not knowing where she's going with this but feeling quite strongly that I'm not going to like it.)

Sad muppet: Yes.

W: Well, if we were in a plane crash and you died and I survived, would you mind if I ate your body?

Sm: Are there no other options?

W: Well I guess there will still be plane food, but I don't really like plane food.

Sm: Well in that case, I'm going to have to insist that you don't eat my corpse. Eat the plane food first.

W: But the plane food is designed to last for weeks, but your corpse is going to start rotting straight away. Surely it makes sense to rather eat your corpse first.

Sm: Um... I still don't feel comfortable with you eating me when there's another food source available. How long do you think you'd go without food before you start eating your husband?

W: (Thinks for a while) Probably a couple of hours.

Sm: In that case, no you may definitely not eat my corpse.

W: Why not?

Sm: You should only eat my corpse if it's to save your life.

W: But I'm peckish!

Sm: No!

Silence fills the room again and sleep starts to slowly take hold again.

W: What if you died in bed. Would you object to me eating your corpse?

Sm: Yes! Call an ambulance! Get a doctor over. I might not be dead. I might just be in a coma.

W: What if you were definitely dead?

Sm: How would you know? You're not a trained medical technician.

W: I checked by shooting you twice in the head. You're definitely dead.

Sm: Oh! Okay, so I'm dead. Why do you want to eat my corpse? Don't we have food in the kitchen?

W: Yes, but it's so far to walk and it's so much effort to make food and you're right here, ready to be eaten.

Sm: I'm sorry, but I have to put my foot down. No, you may not eat my corpse!

W: You're so mean.

And so sleep yet again enters the Muppet household and this time manages to take a firm grip on the happily married couple and drags them off to the land of dreams and possible death.

The next morning I'm woken to a sharp pain in my left arm. Oh no! What if I'm having a heart attack! My wife won't call for an ambulance! I must quickly try to get to my phone and call before it's too...

I look down at my left arm and find my wife gnawing on my arm.

She stops briefly, sensing that she's being watched and looks up.

W: Sorry. I thought you were dead.

Drunken seamen everywhere

When I was a child, I was introduced to the dangers of the world through song.

One of the songs I was taught was that shanty classic, "What shall we do with a drunken sailor".

As an adult you can't just go around telling children to watch out for drunken sailors early in the morning. You have to break the news to them in such a way that doesn't seem too threatening, but nevertheless, they need to be mindful of these things.

A UK government funded charity however is trying to change the lyrics to this classic piece of education to, "What shall we do with a grumpy pirate".

Just how many children actually go yachting off the coast of Somalia that an entire nation needs to be aware that this needs to be considered for life training?

As a child I was prepared to see off the dangers of a drunken sailor by either:
Put him in the long boat till he's sober
or
Put him in bed with the captain's daughter
or
Beat him with a cat 'til his back is bleedin'
or
Shave his balls with a rusty razor

These are essential life skills that the children of today will be missing out on, unless they're attacked by a grumpy pirate and I would not recommend beating a grumpy pirate with a cat. They fucking hate that.

The other problem is that kids today are spoilt. Parents let their kids walk the street with clean, new razors and from my experience and training that's not going to stop a drunken sailor.

Is there a Dawkins?

I have recently read The God Delusion, which is also known as the atheist's bible.

The God Delusion tries to persuade the reader that there is no God, because some very intelligent scientists from Charles Darwin to Albert Einstein say so. To understand the science behind their theories, one needs to have several degrees in education and big thinkingness. So basically the average person will not really understand the science behind the God Delusion, but must just have faith in the words.

A theory about the universe:

... it postulates a vast and rapidly growing number of universes, existing in parallel and mutually undetectable except through the narrow porthole of quantum-mechanical experiments.

Quoting from Steve Grand:

Think of an experience from your childhood. Something you remember clearly, something you can see, feel, maybe even smell, as if you were really there. After all, you really were there at the time, weren't you? How else would you remember it? But here is the bombshell: you weren't there. Not a single atom that is in your body today was there when that event took place. Matter flows from place to place and momentarily comes together to be you.

Another way in which the reader is persuaded that there is no God is by looking at certain texts from the Bible and Koran, which comes across as ridiculous, but I guess some people just have faith in the words.

Looking at the book of Paul:

Adam, the supposed perpetrator of the original sin, never existed in the first place: an awkward fact - excusably unknown to Paul but presumable known to an omniscient God (and Jesus, if you believe he was God?) - which fundamentally undermines the premise of the whole tortuously nasty theory. Oh, but of course, the story of Adam and Eve was only ever symbolic, wasn't it? Symbolic? So, in order to impress himself, Jesus had himself tortured and executed, in vicarious punishment for a symbolic sin committed by a non-existent individual?

Although the claimed author of the book, Richard Dawkins, does have his own input into the book, most of the book is made up of quotes from famous scientists, philosophers and theologians.

Some of Dawkins' own quotes include:

Eukaryotic Cells

No such thing. There are such things Eucaryotic Cells, but it looks like Dawkins is making up words now.

Memeplexes

A meme is a word made up by Dawkins which is about an idea or behaviour being passed on from person to person within a culture. The plexes bit he just added on, so that he can claim to have thought of another new word.

So now we have proof that he's just making up things in this book.



Doctor Dawkins explains how doctors think:

We doctors call that kind of linkage linkage.

So why should we believe the God Delusion? Who created the God Delusion? Apparently it was somebody called Richard Dawkins. But surely the main question we should be asking is who created Richard Dawkins? Is he real? Have you ever met Richard Dawkins? Do you know of anybody who has met Richard Dawkins? You possibly have a friend who knows somebody who says they know somebody who once went to a lecture of his. Do we just take their word for it? But so many of us have see Richard Dawkins on TV. Yes, but I've also seen Jesus on TV. Who am I to believe?

Who could have come up with all these thoughts, quotes and ideas put them all together and sell them as thought provoking philosophy? Who would be so pissed off with God that they spend most of their life looking at the universe in order to create some kind of doubt about His existence. I think the clue is in the name "Dawkins", whose name is part derived from Charles Darwin and...

























Dick.

Don't go near the light

I recently picked up a cold and as I'm a man, this means I'm near death. The following email conversation took place between myself and my loving wife:

Wife: Are you dying?
Sad Muppet: I’m currently only just hanging on. If I don’t make it, I want you to be brave. I want you to move on with your life. I want you to start dating other men again, no matter how hard it will be for you. I want you to try. Even though none of them will ever measure up to me, I want you to find mild happiness again.
W: Just men? Is that a rule? I need to be sure.
SM: Men, women, goats… whatever brings you mild happiness.
W: What if I like the man/woman/goat more than you and become ecstatically happy?
SM: Can the goat mow the lawn? Can the goat pop to the shop to get you some milk or cheese? Can the goat head-butt young children who annoy you?
W: Hmmm… You have given me a lot to think about. *Goes to goats dating wesite*

Attractive 31-year-old with a GSOH seeks goat with similar for fun, friendship, lawn-mowing and head-butting small children. Nanny goats need not apply.

SM: I’m not dead yet!
W: Doesn’t hurt to be prepared. You wanted me to move on quickly after your death; I can do this most effectively by having a few “back ups” ready to go. Makes sense, doesn’t it?
SM: I didn’t say quickly! You can date again after 6 months.
W: Six months from now or six months from when you snuff it?
SM: From when cross over.
W: Do you have an ETA on that? I am keen to get ahead of the game on this one.
SM: I’m feeling a bit better than I was feeling this morning, so with a bit of luck and the support of my wife by my side, I think I can beat this thing!
W: If it’s easier, you should just give in. Don’t struggle to get better on my behalf.
SM: I’m starting to doubt the support I’m getting from my wife.
W: Does that mean you’re less likely to survive?
SM: Yes!
W: Cool. Oh, by the way, if I die, I don’t want you to be happy and I don’t want you to move on. I want you to create a shrine to me in our bedroom. I would like one entire wall of the bedroom covered in photos of me (good photos, naturally), and a candle kept burning at all times. In every room of the house, I would like a massive picture of me and the words underneath “No-one can replace her. So don’t even think about it”. The Cat must wear black. And never let another girl set foot in the house. Even if she’s just there to read the meter.


She loves me so much, she can't bear the thought of me with another goat. I'm a lucky man.

Box office jobs

Students studying forensic science has doubled in the last five years in the UK due to the increasing popularity of all the CSI series based in the US.

Unfortunately for these students there just aren't many jobs available for a qualified forensic scientist, so they're basically wasting their time by studying in this field.

Of course it's not likely that many of these students are the brightest bunch to start off with, by basing their future career on American scripts.

University interviewer - What made you want to be a crime scene investigator?
Prospective student - Hot science chicks and cool gadgets.
University interviewer - Damn straight. Welcome to Cambridge.

Of course this isn't a new trend. Back in the 90s there was a rise in people studying medicine due to the popularity of the show "ER". And even more amazing was back in the 80s when people actually considered being lawyers due to the popularity of "LA Law".

School guidance counsellors haven't ever had it so easy.

Little Johnny - I don't know what I want to be when I grow up.
Guidance counsellor - What's your favourite TV show.
Little Johnny - Mad Men.
Guidance counsellor - Get a job in advertising.

Little Suzie - I don't know what I want to be when I grow up.
Guidance counsellor - What's your favourite TV show.
Little Suzie - Mad Men.
Guidance counsellor - Marry a man in advertising.

Little Peter - I don't know what I want to be when I grow up.
Guidance counsellor - What's your favourite TV show.
Little Peter - Glee.
Guidance counsellor - Become a hairdresser.

Little Mary - I don't know what I want to be when I grow up.
Guidance counsellor - What's your favourite TV show.
Little Mary - CSI.
Guidance counsellor - Marry a man in forensic science.

Isn't there an opportunity for television companies to do some good in the world? Surely ER helped with that, by making more doctors in the world. Shouldn't there be more shows glamorising professions that benefit mankind.

Maybe they can do a series about how cool it is to clean toilets in public restrooms or maybe show what an enriched life a young wife has, by cooking and cleaning up for her husband while he sleeps with sexy young ladies who don't have STIs, for example.

Of course there's also a down side to glamorising unglamourous careers. Whichever field gets chosen, the market gets flooded by people who want to be like their idols. I work as an accountant and I fear the day when NBC commissions a series about how cool it is to be an accountant.

A place of worship

The below picture was taken recently at Heathrow Terminal 5.

(click on the pic to enlarge)


I can't decide if this is racist or sexist.

Birds do it...

It's the morning of my wedding day. My bride to be and I are staying in a five star country lodge over looking a citrus valley.




We wake up to the most beautiful day. There's morning mist in the valley and we watch the sun rise and burn off the mist within minutes.




It's quite simply the perfect start to the day.

Our room is beautiful and it offers the most gorgeous views of the valley from our bath.




You'll notice in the picture above, to the left there's also an outside shower and I simply can't resist the thought of having a shower overlooking a picturesque valley on a warm summer morning. I strip down and head on outside.

I'm a little tentative at first as I'm not used to public nudity while sober, but as there's nothing but nature for miles around, I relax my guard and let the warm water cascade over me and start to build up a lovely lather of soap on my glistening body in the morning sun.

The scent of nature and the scent of my flowery shower gel creates a feeling of extreme relaxation. Besides the sound of running water from my shower the only other thing that can be heard is the birds singing and bees buzzing. It's almost as though Walt Disney himself scripted my public nudity.

In retrospect, it's much easier to see disaster coming. For those of you who enjoy a good detective novel, you probably already picked up the key words:
- Citrus valley
- Public nudity
- Flowery shower gel
and
- Bees buzzing

And of course, being the manly man that I am, I've concentrated most of the flowery shower gel I was using around my armpits and my crotch.

A little known fact I've recently discovered about bees. Bees aren't attracted to flowery shower gel around the human armpit area.

The above fact might not be true because if there was a swarm of bees close to either of my armpits, I sure as fuck didn't notice them. I did however notice about a hundred bees trying to attack my man parts.

I didn't have internet access at the time, but afterwards I did some research on what to do if you find yourself in the middle of a swarm of bees.

Run away in a zig zag pattern or through tall brush.

I'm standing in a shower area which is surrounded by tall brush. The bees are coming from the tall brush.

Cover your head because bees attack the face and neck first. Use your shirt if you have nothing else to cover your head.

I think it's my lucky day because the bees aren't interested in my face or neck. My shirt is inside.

Never swat at the bees.

Okay. This one I might have got wrong. I'm not only swatting at them, I'm also trying kick the fuckers.

Don't jump in water. The bees will wait up to 30 minutes for you to surface and then they'll attack again.

There's no river to jump into, but the water from the shower seems to be impeding their attack I'm not leaving my protective barrier until they're all gone. I don't know if there's enough water to last for 30 minutes.

Seek shelter in an enclosed car or structure.

This is the most obvious solution. My enclosed safety structure is only about three feet away, behind a sliding glass door, but I'm too scared to leave the protective shower barrier. Luckily my bride to be hears my girly manly screams and comes to investigate. She sees the trouble I'm in and I see her running off, undoubtedly on her way to call the police or the army. She returns within seconds without any kind of uniformed squad, holding grenades and machine guns. Instead she's gone and fetched the camera.

I fucking hate that bitch. I hope she has a miserable life.

The essence of man

Last week, my lovely fiancee was out of town for a couple of days for work or meeting with friends or intensive therapy. I think she told me. I don't care.

Anyway as she was away, that meant that my home became a bachelor pad again. I was able to regress back to my single days when there were no rules about drinking and every woman at my local pub was a lesbian. But more importantly, with my fiancee's delicate taste buds and sense of smell out of the house and I could make myself a decent man-curry!

Women don't understand man-curry. They don't understand that the only way you can enjoy a curry is if you're in pain. Women are so stupid.

I prepared my chicken, potato and onion and chucked it all in one pot and then I smothered it all with extra hot peri-peri sauce. To this I added a tablespoon of extra hot curry powder. I then added a slight sprinkling of black pepper, a pinch of salt and finally another tablespoon of extra hot curry powder. This was then served on a bed of rice, which had curry powder in it.

While serving up, a drop of sauce dripped on the floor. I reached over for some kitchen paper to wipe up the drop, but when I turned back the drop had been replaced by a small hole in the floor. Odd.

I poured myself a large glass of cold water, just in case small fires broke out in the vicinity of my plate and sat down to dinner.

I could definitely taste the curry in the first bite I took, but you know how you get that momentary delay after being kicked in the balls by a lesbian in a pub, before the real pain hits? Well after about thirty seconds of my first bite it felt like I had a dozen angry lesbians in my mouth. Not literally, because lesbians are generally fat.

Despite not watching my favourite sports team lose in a large sporting event at the time, tears appeared in my eyes. I felt snot starting to run down my face. Ear wax melted and dripped onto my collar. I felt my face go bright pink like a Catholic priest's first day at an orphanage for the blind.

For my second bite I attempted to avoid any contact with my taste buds by thrusting my fork to the back of my throat, like a well trained step-daughter. The fire spread to my throat and I felt the burning go all the way down to my stomach. The only reason why I didn't throw-up was because that would mean that the curry would have to touch my blistered lips again.

I continued to eat the curry, which due to the stream of tears was becoming saltier with every bite. The last time I was in so much pain I was forced to watch Glee with people who thought that it had a storyline.

An intense headache had started at the back of my head and was now starting to throb like a fat man running away from a salad bar. I was no longer able to focus on my fork, as my tears were very quickly dehydrating me. I felt around the plate and made stabbing motions near my mouth, hoping that some of it was going in like a virgin finding a corpse in the forest, but not really sure as I had lost all sense of touch from my neck up.

I eventually finished my meal and attempted to rehydrate myself by drinking water from the shower. I then shat myself.

Luckily I was in the shower at the time and as it definitely appeared to be my lucky day, I was shitting brown water, which went mostly down the plug hole, except for some stuff on the wall.

Finally my body stopped leaking fluids and slowly returned to a bearable temperature. Exhausted, I climbed into bed and fell into a deep sleep, hoping that I would be fully recovered for work the next day.

The next morning I felt drained but strong enough to head off to work. I made it through the morning by sipping on green tea, but by lunch time I knew I would have to attempt to eat something again. I had no appetite but forced myself to have my lunch. After the first bite, I starting to feel hot again. My headache returned with avengeance and my eyes seemed to have had a sprinkler system turned on.

In retrospect I probably shouldn't have boxed up the remaining curry from the night before and taken it to work with me for my lunch, but if we did everything retrospectively we'd be living in the past and fucking our ancestors and nobody wants that, except my grandma.

A helping hand

Looking back at my life, I see that I've been fortunate. I've been given opportunities and choices that most people only dream of. I wasn't born poor, physically handicapped or with any horrible diseases that would make every day a struggle for me.

Unfortunately there are people out there who were born into such desperate circumstance. Due to no fault of their own, every day is a struggle for them. Some of the simplest tasks that most people take for granted can be physical torture for many of these unfortunate people.

Recently I decided to start giving a little bit back.

I know that's a bit of a cliche, but I don't care. The truth is that I don't just do this to help others, I do this to make me feel better about myself.

A few years ago, if I met somebody who said the above paragraph to me, I would have laughed in their face, but to add to my growing cliches, I guess I've grown.

My growth spurt didn't come in a slow realisation over time, but through the inspiration of one story. It was about a woman who, without any kind of medical training, used to volunteer in hospitals during World War 2. Every day she was faced with unimaginable horror of seeing what bullets and artillery would do to the human body. Young men, some still only teenagers were unable to do the simplest of tasks and that's when she realised that she didn't need to be a doctor to help these injured soldiers. She could help them in her own way.

She spent most of her volunteering hours in the burns unit where men were left for weeks on end wrapped up in bandages like forgotten Egyptian Emperors. The only healing available to them was time and so they would just lie there, as still as possible, because even the slightest movement caused intense pain against their blistered skin.

There were of course nurses who would be there to change bandages and to help them with bedpans, but this Florence Nightingale of her generation was able to recognise that young men who had both arms bandaged needed more than just new bandages and clean bedpans to go on living. There was no Sky Sports available and even newspaper sports sections were limited, due to many of the teams fighting in the war. So she had to entertain them the one way she knew how. She rolled up her sleeves and she wanked them off. A true story of inspiration.

So I have volunteered at a burns unit at a local hospital in order to help in ways I know I can. Of course I know that men won't need my services as Sky Sports is available and most sports teams aren't fighting in any major war at the moment. But women generally don't care for sport or understand war, but they undoubtedly have needs. Needs I will satisfy. I haven't been able to help yet, as many the women who are there at the moment are either fat or have burns on parts of their body other than their arms and hands, which I think is gross.

But I wait, for a good looking model with burns to her hands to come in so that I can selflessly finger her.

Would you rather...

A fun way of getting to know your partner better is by playing the "would you rather" game with them. The point of the game is to give the person two options and they must choose one. For instance, would you rather have chocolate mousse or cheesecake? Simple enough, but then a few days ago, I had the following conversation with Mrs Sad Muppet:

Me - Would you rather skydive or bungee jump?

MSM - Bungee jump. Would you rather take a cock in your arse or have a guy shit in your mouth?

Me - WHAT?!

MSM - Would you rather take a cock in your arse or have a guy shit in your mouth?

Me - Neither!

MSM - You have to choose one. That's the rule of the game.

Me - No. You're supposed to entice the person with two possible enjoyable things to do.

MSM - You might enjoy a cock in your arse or shit in your mouth.

Me - I'm confident I won't.

MSM - I'm confident that I won't enjoy either skydiving or bungee jumping, yet you made me choose!

Me - At least they are two family friendly options.

MSM - Fine. Would you rather have your brother fuck you in the arse or have him shit in your mouth?

Me - That's not family friendly!

MSM - Why not? There's family and he's being very friendly with you.

Me - Family friendly as in you could ask the question in front of little children. Like this. Would you rather own a VW Golf or a Toyota Corolla?

MSM - Would you rather have a VW Golf or let your brother shit in your mouth!

Me - No! That's not family friendly!

MSM - You're still complaining? I think it's interesting that you still can't choose between those two options. You're sick!

Me - That's not the point. One option was decent. The other was disgusting.

MSM - What have you got against VW Golfs?

Me - I'll give you another example. Would you rather work for the Queen of England or the President of the USA?

MSM - Queen! Okay, I think I understand it. Would you rather be stuck in a lift for four hours with Andre Agassi or stuck in a traffic jam for four hours with Sylvester Stallone?

Me - That's it! Now you're getting the point. Hmmm... I'll choose Agassi.

MSM - But he's naked and he's got a massive hard-on and he's going to fuck you with it.

Me - What?

MSM - And then he's going to shit in your mouth.

Me - Why?

MSM - It's his thing!

Me - What if I chose Stallone?

MSM - Nothing. You would have just sat in the car, waiting for the traffic jam to clear.

Me - Can I change my mind?

MSM - Too late. You've made your choice. Pervert!

Me - Oh.



I can't believe she's still with me. I'm such a lucky guy.