Why is there nothing new here?

A few weeks ago I set up a new blog with a few others.

IT’S HERE

My brain doesn’t function fast enough to manage two blogs at once.

Sorry.

Sorry, what was the question?

I had great plans this morning to write a vicious, scathing attack on an article I was reading yesterday in one of the Sunday papers. The article was about how regular cannabis use affects memory.

Unfortunately, I don’t know where I left the stupid newspaper, and can’t for the life of me remember what it actually said.

Console yourself with a visit to the SECOND-BEST BLOG IN THE WORLD

Which one’s Jeckyl?

There’s this guy I know, and he’s always been a bit of a lad, despite the fact that he’s in his 40’s, married, and has about 6 or 7 kids. I met him when we were doing a training course together, and struck up a friendship based solely on the fact that we lived near each other. It was quite obvious though that he had a serious cocaine problem, so I always kept him at arm’s length.

I did visit his house a few times to fix his computer. Most times he was still in bed coming down off a binge, and it usually took him about 20mins to surface. Sometimes I found him playing Burnout on his XBox, alone, off his face. He always continued playing and watching the screen as he spoke, sometimes never even looking in my direction once while I was there.

His kids were always roaming about the house in various stages of dress. The older ones seemed to be reluctantly looking after the younger ones, and not having any success. Every time that I was there, the father kept letting deafening roars at the various kids. The kids just ignored him. The mother never got out of bed.

It was a madhouse, and was like a rubbish tip. Thankfully, the computer that needed fixing was a laptop, so I was able to take it away with me. Unfortunately, it was never long before they managed to break it again. It became a monthly recurrence. I was beginning to get a bit pissed off with the whole situation, and then, one day, the calls stopped.

That was a year ago. During the interval, my ‘friend’ had been caught with a large amount of cocaine, and in order to avoid a custodial sentence has signed himself up with one of those ‘Born-Again’ cults. Don’t ask me how it works, because communication has become a bit strained since he returned. All I know is that he spent the year outside the family home, did a lot of praying, and washed a lot of windows.

He’s a completely different person now, and his home is bit closer to what could be termed ‘normal’. Trouble is these days, when he’s not bashing you with his Bible, he making lame jokes about bashing others. It’s the only thing he seems to be able to talk about. He’s a full-on Born Again Christian, 24-hours a day, everyday.

In our last conversation, he was trying to convince me of God’s existence. The absolute proof, in his argument, lay in the fact that Christ was born in the year Zero. The whole BC/AD thing was the key. Indisputable, rock-solid proof. And it also proved that everything in the Bible is true. (Sorry, but the reasoning behind this escaped me.)

I argued against this of course, but it was almost as if he couldn’t hear me.

If it wasn’t for the benefit it affords his children, I think I’d prefer him the old way.

Good news for Girl Gamers!

I’m sure there’s a few of you girl’s out there who’ve played games using the wonderful Nintendo Wii-mote controller. You’ll have been amazed at it’s precision and fast response. You’ll have marvelled at how that little built-in speaker and the rumble-feature makes you feel more immersed in the game. Most of all though, you’ll have been charmed by it’s most striking quality- It’s sheer simplicity.

“It’s just so easy to use”, you hear yourself saying to yourself, “and it’s shaped a bit like a cock.”

Apparently, you weren’t the only one who thought so. Take a look at THIS

(Don’t worry. It’s a completely safe link to a WikiPedia type webpage. No Pictures.)

Unfortunately girls, this is not something you buy in the shops. It takes someone with vast technical ability to set this kinda stuff up. Someone like me.

Get in touch, and I’ll send you my address. You can pop around anytime you like.

Just don’t forget to bring your own Wii-mote.

Tommy’s war

Tommy slithered as quietly and slowly as possible across the floor on his belly. He had his gun in his right hand, ready to shoot any fucker he found in this godforsaken shithole. Around him were his dead comrades, Ted, Barney and Bob. Every one of them had been shot in the head by snipers – killed instantly.

He still didn’t know where the shots had come from. It seemed like the snipers were invisible. The only thing certain in his mind was that if he made one false move, he was joining his dead friends.

Then he heard it – A low humming noise, coming from the next room. It sounded just like a microwave being switched on. He listened hard, but heard no voices. Whoever was in there was alone.

He got up quickly and dashed to the wall beside the doorway. This was it. Do or die. No second chances.

With his gun ready, he put his hand on the handle of the door. He took a deep breath. In his head he counted 3 – 2 – 1….and he burst through the door.

There she stood, with her back to him, a lone female. Tommy kept his gun trained on her as she turned around towards him.

“C’mon Tommy”, she said, “tidy up those toys. Your dinner will be ready soon.”

The cutest hoor of them all.

Wasn’t Bertie the cute hoor? He got out just before his excuses at the Mahon Tribunal became just a bit too much to believe, even for his previously-deluded believers. It was also at a time when the Lisbon Treaty was becoming the focal point of political debate in Ireland, so his lame horse excuses were relegated to paragraphs, and not the screaming headlines they deserved.

The opposition’s futile attacks on Bertie, and his own parties defence machine running on overdrive fatally delayed the start of the major parties’ campaign to promote the Lisbon treaty. The ‘NO’ campaign was well underway, and was better organised by the time the main parties were free to engage themselves. The ‘Yes’ vote should have won, but didn’t. And it was Bertie’s fault. (I voted ‘No’ because I knew we were going to get another chance, and I don’t like the Government, whatever form it takes. I’d elaborate, but you’d get bored.)

Now I’m not a wealthy businessman, and I’m not a builder. To me, an FFer is a fucking fucker. I hate every single last one of them, -always have, and always will. I hate them so much that I actually prefer Fine Gael, and that’s saying something.

But still, anyone with a heart must feel for Biffo at the moment. Not only is he an ugly, ugly, ugly, ugly, ugly, ugly cunt, but he has the fallout of a ‘No’ vote to deal with, coupled with ‘News’ that we’re heading into a recession. And who exactly was the Finance Minister for the last four years? -Look on the bright side though, maybe the constant worry and the sleeping tablets will help him to shed a few stone.

The worst part of all this won’t be the fall of Biffo. No tears will be shed in Monkey Mansions, although I have to admit that I do like him much more than his predecessor. He seems quite an amiable (and extremely ugly) bloke. His heart appears to be in the right place. It’s a pity he always looks like an overgrown youngfella who made his Communion last week but hasn’t taken the suit off yet, but in the end none of this matters. His ultimate and inevitable downfall will cause something much worse to happen.

People will begin to long for the ‘Bertie Days’. That lyin’, cheatin’, stutterin’, swindlin’ bastard is going to given Sainthood.

And poor Biffo will be pulling pints in his brother’s pub.

It is, indeed, a shame. And a terrible one.

Fuck you, Wario!

Whenever I visited The Mushroom Kingdom, if I could, I did it in the company of that fat little garlic-eating greedy bastard Wario. He’s appeared in his own games, aswell as the MarioKart and MarioParty series, and I never even considered using any other character if he was available. Why would I, when anytime I lost to them I’d hear Wario moaning, “Lost! -To a bunch of losers.”? All the rest of the characters moaned and cried, but not Wario. He made defeat a little bit easier. Not only did he accept full responsibility for your poor efforts, but he also managed to instill a feeling in your mind that you were going to do better next time.

I used to love the way he was a confessed thief, and lived in a golden castle, full of gold and treasure he robbed from others. He was extra super-strong aswell, and in his games he was able to catch fire, be a zombie, get flattened, get electrocuted, but never die. He rode a Chopper Motorbike, and looked ultra-cool in his yellow shirt and hat, his purple dungarees and pointy-toed green shoes. He was always funny too. In one of his games, Master Of Disguise, he uses his wand to turn himself into “The Purple Wind,” and described himself as “silent but deadly.” -You get the drift.

I used to love that little guy. I wanted to BE him in my dreams. – Well Not Anymore!! Me and him are finished!

A few weeks ago, I got myself MarioKart Wii, and I started to play as Wario. I sailed through the 50cc and 100cc Grand Prix races, and unlocked the 150cc. This was where my problems began. I struggled, and after many, many tries, and a dollop of extremely good fortune, I had 7 of the 8 Gold Cups won.

But I couldn’t get Gold on the Banana Cup, no matter how many times I tried. Until one day, (or was it night?), I accidently started the race as Mario. I came 1st in every race! And it was easy! I was finishing races half a lap ahead of the others.

Now I’ve opened the Mirrored version of the 150cc Grand Prix. I’m flying through it, with my new best mate Mario. My world-ranking has risen, and I’m unlocking new characters, cars and bikes all the time. I laugh at Wario when I overtake him. I’ll take no more of his purple guff.

You’ll laugh, you’ll cry!

Welcome to Monkey’s Monday Morning Movie Matinée.

There’s a tiny bit of bad language in THIS VIDEO

If you’re in work, turn down the Volume and you’ll be fine.

Be careful though. You are going to laugh, and, if you’re male, you just might cry too.

The Onion Movie

The funniest film I’ve seen in a long time is The Onion Movie. It’s understandably going ’straight-to-DVD’, because it wouldn’t suit a cinema release. -It’s more like a sketch-comedy. Unlike the Onion Website, the movie isn’t over-American, but I doubt if it has a chance of doing as well outside the USA as I believe it ought to.

To show my appreciation, and to try to help them out with a bit of promotion, I thought I’d upload a couple of clips to YouTube. Within 10mins of me uploading the first one, I received an E-mail from YouTube telling me that Fox had blocked my video.

Honestly, you try to help some people, and all they can do is threathen you in response.

Luckily for them, I have the offending trailers posted somewhere else

(Not really suitable for work. Get used to it!)

Some people, eh?

(Want some more? Let me know.)

The TV Highlight Of The Year

I’m a bit late posting this, but whatever the fuck you do, DO NOT make plans to go out tomorrow (Thursday) night. For the first time in their existance, the homegrown TV stations in Ireland are guaranteed to be pumping out top-class entertainment, and you can’t afford to miss it.

It’s due to begin with the 9:00pm News on RTE1. Suggestions that the NO vote is going to win the referendum will result in the likes of Enda Redhead appearing on our screens, shuffling his feet, looking at the ground, and trying to convince himself, (and us), that there’s a chance of a complete turnaround.

The Labour Party will be careful about tarnishing Mr. Gilly’s non-existant reputation, so, in total panic, just at the end of The News, they’ll more than likely wheel out The Rabbit;
“mumble, mumble, sad day for Ireland, blah-di-blah-di-blah, [insert witty comment here], sad day for Ireland, blah, blah, but at the end of the day, etc., etc.“)
-Nothing new there!

The juciest bits will be during Prime Time, which is due to start straight after The News, and I believe Paddy Powers are accepting bets on how long it’s going to take RTE to find Biffo. God help us when they do, ‘cos he’s going to be absolutely furious. There’s going to be furniture flyin’, reporters and cameramen will be subject to a queueing system for ambulances based on the severity of their injuries, babies will be punched, schools that were used as Polling-Stations will be smashed to the ground.
Step aside Hulk, here comes Biffo!

Whole counties in the West of Ireland will be tarnished as “Fuckers” as the votes come in.
(This will be upgraded the following morning on Breakfast Radio, when the whole nation will be called “Ignorant Cunts”.) Half a billion €uros will be spent on distributing apologies to every household in Ireland, with every household guaranteed to recieve a minimum of six apologies per family member.

Meanwhile, within Europe, French television will create a radical new political comedy series, called Farter Biffo. The main character will be a lying bollix who knows someone with shady bank-dealings that he’s always trying to cover-up. His sidekick would be a red-haired gobshite, living in a world of his own, and the least important character would one who just criticises the other two at every opportunity. Thank God we don’t have to witness that kind of shite!

You can make it all come true. Vote NO tomorrow.

How dare our elected representatives ask us to vote Yes to something that none of us can understand, and none of them can explain?

I made my mind up on the one thing I do understand;

If we vote NO, something bad might happen, but we can fix it.
If we vote YES, something very, very bad might happen, and we can do fuck all about it.

It’s simple. Vote NO.

And get that VCR out of the attic .

Yes, I know I was totally wrong about the timing of the Referendum count. You should be used to me being wrong by now.