I saw this headline on a magazine, and promtly took a picture of it. I often wonder how Barry's penis ended up there, and how no-one didn't notice it had gone missing.
However, i didn't want to be seen reading the magazine, so i never found out and am still troubled by the issue today.
If there's a moral to this story, it's that you shouldn't not do something because you're worried the staff of a Co-op you'll probably never visit again will think you're a pervert.

It turns out...

I'm not in love, I just have an inner ear infection.

Coatboy Verus The Chicken

"Ha ha ha ha ha!"

I looked around... where was I?
Of course, the last thing i remembered was being bundled into the back of a jeep by two Fez wearing Germans.
"Ha ha ha ha ha!" Again, that evil, diabolical laugh... I recognized it... No, it couldn't be...

But it was! Emerging from the shadows and taking his place near the table i was chained to appeared my arch nemesis!

Immaculately dressed as always, The Chicken - the most evil poultry super-villain in existence - hopped onto a stool and observed me through his small, beady eyes.

"But how?" I asked. "The last time i saw you, you were locked in the Chicken-coop of eternity, lost in the great Layer's wars."

"yes!" he replied. "But i escaped! Eventually, even the best farmer-guard leaves the hatch open!"

The back-story to my relationship with The Chicken is rather interesting, but this isn't the time for it.

This is the front of an Innocent smoothie. The peach-based character bares a startling resemblance to Mr. Ellis, my English teacher for part of my 5th year. However, he never had a Halo.
He wasn't a peach either.

When i was a small child...

I would often brush my teeth, then drink apple juice. I could never understand why it tasted so strange. As an adult, I now realise it's a Government conspiricy.
The orange juice people are in on it too.

Pie?

The doorbell rang, it's metallic chime signalling to all the world - that chose to inhabit my dining room - that someone was at the door. Of course, i regretted buying the bloody thing now.

When i felt that the man at the door - definitely a man, for i had taken a sneaky glance at him out of the kitchen window - was growing bored, i opened the door flamboyantly, and welcomed him like an old friend.
" Ah, good day Sir," he started "May i interest you in an exciting, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?
"But how rude of me! Joshua Johnson, of Johnson and McKay?"
I didn't understand the question, but i nodded politely. He continued:
"Now, how would you like to have all the windows in your house replaced... absolutely free!"
I told him i would like this very much. After all, who wouldn't?
"Great," he continued, "Then we can do the next best thing! We can replace all of your windows... for only £2,000 - £3,000, following a thorough evaluation!"
I showed him into the kitchen and offered him a seat at the table, where he proceeded to produce the relevant paperwork. While he did this, i cut up my freshly baked cherry pie, and offered him a slice. As he ate it, i slipped away, under the guise of fetching a pen.
I locked myself in the bathroom and called the police. No-one touches my pie!

Love

Love is, at best, an abstract idea, and rather hard to describe. However, to the right is a visualization of the whole thing.
Love is, as we imagine, a crudely drawn cardboard box, while the jumble of related feelings are represented by the white background. Click on the box to watch as young Henry falls, tragically, out of love.

Much like the real thing, visual representations of love don't have to make sense.
Nor need they be well created.

When I die...

Please don't film my funeral and put it on Youtube.

Kids!

There are a lot of pressures in modern life, but remember: A nice sit down with a cup of tea and a biscuit is a healthy alternative to taking heroin.

I'll show them one day...

I invested £50,000 in copies of Guy Ritchie's Swept Away in 2002, to the general criticisms of my friends and family. Of course, the film was a total failure, and i was declared bankrupt the following year. My friends no longer speak to me, and my family only send me obligatary Birthday and Christmas cards.
However, imagine how stupid they would have felt if I'd made a fortune!

An Important Lesson.

The reason I love the KKK...

Is not because I'm a white supremacist, but because the Klan website is (unintentionally) rather funny.

I enjoy the article on there front page, for example, where they explain they do not endorse Barack Obama. While this may seem obvious to us, they point out rumours have started due to an article in the Magazine, "The Daily Squib". While this magazine is satirical, the Glorious Klan don't realize this straight away, and worry that everyone else may take it for fact. And how easily we could. Looking at the website, i see that the Queen is working in McDonalds, that the Senate has told Barack Obama that he must put on weight, and that Human-Animal Hybrids are roaming Britain's streets. Of course, how easily I could have mistaken these articles for fact...

In reality, the reason behind not noticing obvious satire could be the same reason you judge black people to be a lesser people - because you're an idiot.

Anyway, back to why the site is funny, in an ironic, I wish they didn't exist way: http://www.kkk.bz/niceblacks.htm

The daily Squib article: http://www.dailysquib.co.uk/?c=117&a=1355

Allergies

I went to the doctors today, and it would appear i suffer from an allergy to arsenic. Even small amounts can lead to death. It's a bit of a bugger, i don't mind telling you. However, I've done some research and it looks like i can get through life without regularly consuming arsenic. Well, good luck to me, i say.
Best wishes to anyone in a similar situation.

Unavoidable differences?

Today, i tried to introduce the French to the Klingon Empire.
As you may expect, it didn't go well.
The cheese did not agree with the Klingons' weak, womanly stomachs, and the French couldn't manage the guttural Klingon Language.
However, i have decided not to let this put me off: Next week, i plan to bring about a lasting peace for Israel and Palestine.

Piranha-Bears, a real animal.

Piranha-Bear (family piraña-Ursine) are an Endangered omnivorous freshwater mammal, found in South American rivers. Because of similarities to Piranhas and Bears in both name and appearance, the Piranha-Bear is often assumed to be related to at least one of these creatures. However, new scientific studies have shown the Piranha-Bear is actually closely related to the giraffe.

Despite their fearsome nature, Piranha-Bears are very docile creatures. However, they have a fierce aversion to Khaki, a trait that has led them to hostility towards adventures and hunters. Piranha-Bears also have a tremendous fear of pigtails.

The favourite prey of the Piranha-Bear is the Salmon Cow, a large freshwater mammal that the Piranha-Bear can consume whole in 3 seconds. However, the Piranha-Bear prefers not to rush the meal, and enjoys to slowly cook and season its foodstuffs before eating.

It is an little-known fact that Lord Lucan was killed by a Piranha-Bear. The animal was agitated because of constant proddings with a stick. Like all of God's creatures, the Piranha-Bear responds to annoyances with fierce mauling.

I hate Trains.

“Remember Kyle?”
I took in the figure talking to me in a cold, measured glare. He seemed generally unobtrusive, smartly dressed in a well-made suit and tie. Balding a little, but covering it well with a half comb-over. Still, normal as he seemed, I found it hard to contain my rage.
“No”, I felt like saying, “Who the fuck is Kyle, and who are you?” But I didn’t, as that would be rude.
He continued anyway:
“He used to collect beermats from around the world.”
As if that would really help my remember a man I’d never met. Then again, I suppose it was an unusual character trade. Actually, as he said it, I remembered my friend Bob had done that when we were in school. I wondered if he still does, but dismissed the thought.
“Well, he’s getting married to this girl he met on a chatroom. Foreign, I think.”
“Oh, right. Well, good for him. When’s the wedding?” I replied. Keeping him happy seemed a good idea.
“Late October. 23rd, I think. Some time around then anyway. Are you going?”
“Well…” I decided to play it safe. “No, I don’t really know him well enough.”
“Aye, fair enough. I’ll tell him you send your congratulations though, ok?”
I agreed hastily, and watched gleefully as he departed the carriage. That had been some of the longest 37 seconds of my life.

An overview.

Yes, I've finally lost it and entered the world of Blogs. I intend to write them at irregular intervals, generally about trivial matters that have annoyed me. Other than that, i may write short, angry stories, or perhaps write about trivial matters and illustrate them with short, angry stories. Either way, this seems cheaper than therapy, and reduces the risks of me killing my friends for misusing apostrophes.