There are many benefits to dating a Eastern European immigrant. Least of all because their standards appear to be significantly lower than those of British women. However, the pluses must be measured in consideration of the minuses. With over a year’s worth of experience dating a lovely foreign divku, I feel moved to share some of the lessons I’ve picked up with you guys.
Lesson one: never underestimate the language barrier.
I recently underwent surgery to heal my twisted gut after a particularly unpleasant bout of Crohn’s disease. The good news is that I now feel better than I have done in years. The bad is that roughly a foot’s worth of my intestine had to be taken out. That may not seem like much of a loss and, to be honest, it’s not like I miss it.
The problem lies with my Czech girlfriend’s inclination for a particularly embarrassing malapropism whereby she replaces intestines for testicles.
I only found out tonight that my loving, caring girlfriend has been letting just about everyone know that her poor boyfriend had to go into hospital to have his testicles removed.
For anyone reading this who may have been told otherwise: my balls are perfectly intact and exactly where they’re supposed to be.
Funny video showing how, in the world of reality TV at least, Americans are not interested in making friends.
It’s funny, but you can kind of imagine George Bush Jr and co. saying the same thing at international meetings: “An’ I’m all like, **** you Iran, I’m a ****ing global superpower y’know, I’m not here to make no ****ing friends.”
Some of you reading this may be wondering why I hate the Tories so much and why I’m so angry that people are voting for them - I’ll give you one reason:
Nobody knows where they stand.
David ’smary-cunt-of-the-century’ Cameron has successfully managed to speak enough hot air to shroud the Conservatives in some sort of mirage of reputability. He hasn’t, however, effectively communicated exactly why the fuck we should give a shit about them.
At best, they’re still the same-old elitist, xenophobic, nationalistic bastards we know and fear still desperately trying to drag England back to a mythical ‘golden age’ which only existed in the depths of their privilege-addled minds. At worst, they have discarded their deplorable principles in the soul interest of obtaining power - by hook or by crook. Why is this the worst option? Because why the hell are they chasing power when they’re not even sure what they’re going to do with it!?
Now, anyone who’s read between the lines of this blog will be aware that I don’t really KNOW anything - I just strongly believe in a lot of things (although anyone who takes enough of an interest in human behaviour would probably suggest they both mean the same). One thing that I do believe is that the national consciousness is tied into whoever runs the show more than we like to think. Before too long, we’ll begin to notice the (often subtle) progressive changes introduced by Labour. Casual racism will meet a resurgence with all its crudity, bile and bitterness; Britain’s vibrant cultural scene will stagnate; Tolerance and acceptance will be replaced by the arrogant English superior sneer; Europe will become more distant and the world will be seen as a place simply of foreigners - not of opportunities.
I’m not saying that everything’s perfect now, only that there was a distinct flavour in the English breeze that I liked the taste of - and I’ve felt it turn sour over the past months as the Tory Cult of Ignorance grew in confidence.
I’m sat here on the sofa watching two cross-dressers, high-kicking their way to the approval of the judges on ITV2’s ironically-titled Britain’s Got Talent. I mention this to not only symbolise the depths of despair and self-punishment to which I’ve sunk, but also to use this particularly atrocious example of ‘entertainment’ as a microcosm of our nation as a whole.
As an eight-year old ginger kid twats his way to three ‘yes’ votes, the truly offensive examples of British talent on offer proves beyond all reasonable doubt that my fellow English-folk are as deluded, hopeless and ignorant as their voting habits suggest. In fact, the most exciting performances seen were from a pair of Eastern European women dressed a giant slinkies, and two men of Asian origin offering a surprising and imaginative dance routine - seriously, it was better than it sounds. Revealingly, the “stand-out” English contestants (in that whenever they took to the stage I was forced to step up and stand out of the room) seemed to be entrenched in the…well, I would arbitrarily insert a decade in here, but I’m not sure if there ever was a period in which such acts were genuinely considered something special.
What we have are kids being considered talented surely by dint of the fact that their parents have yet to call them out for being arrogant cunts, comedians reeling off jokes you would kick your uncle in the groin for saying at the Christmas table, impressionists of Cilla fucking Black and (to cut a long rant short) people of such an obvious lack of creativity and imagination that their individual contribution to society is of less value than the blue cat’s eyes showing a slip-road on the M40.
And these fuckers are allowed to vote.
No, that’s not right - not very democratic of me. For shame. Of course, these clueless spunkwits are permitted their votes the same way that I am. So who’s to blame for the rape of sensibility which has resulted in such careless squandering of our most basic of democratic privileges? Is it television (back to Britain’s Got Talent) endlessly promoting the celebrity culture which has turned even the most serious of contests into some Big Brother-esque spectacle? Is it the newspapers, who unashamedly promote their political agenda with hardly a nod towards respectability and integrity? Is it the leaders who bow to the pressures of the above at the cost of what they believe in, meaning that (on the surface at least) an important choice hardly seems like a choice at all?
The fact is that, on the whole and despite my wishes to the contrary, television vomits forth whatever crap will be eagerly swallowed by the viewers; people don’t buy newspapers to be challenged or informed, they buy whatever piece of propaganda supports their own self-focused belief (this applies to you arrogantly superior Guardian and Independent readers too); and our so-called leaders are the sheep that shamefully pander to populist bullshit while shamefully hiding any individual stance or beliefs aside from the usual soundbytes.
I guess then, that the answer is that the problem is us. I’m sure others have made the comparison more pithily than I, so I’ll leave it up to you to find out what they’ve said, but there’s definitely something to say about sheep being released from the pen only to mill around for a bit, before running back inside and then biting themselves on the ass.
Bruce Schneier (nope, me neither) opened entries to his third annual Movie Plot Threat Contest earlier this month, and of course I entered.
As Bruce himself explains:
For this contest, the goal is to create fear. Not just any fear, but a fear that you can alleviate through the sale of your new product idea. There are lots of risks out there, some of them serious, some of them so unlikely that we shouldn’t worry about them, and some of them completely made up. And there are lots of products out there that provide security against those risks.
Your job is to invent one. First, find a risk or create one. It can be a terrorism risk, a criminal risk, a natural-disaster risk, a common household risk — whatever. The weirder the better. Then, create a product that everyone simply has to buy to protect him- or herself from that risk. And finally, write a catalog ad for that product.
My entry is lost somewhere amongst the comments, but I did make myself chuckle a little. I didn’t guffaw, however, to any entry other than the one written by Nick Brown which clearly deserves to win simply because of the opening line:
“Are you sleeping well at night, confident that you won’t wake up with HIV?”
