– No time for people who christen their children ‘Anakin’
– Environmental man on the loose again. – Whats the score with sea levels rising 7m? – Thanks to Bayerische Motorwerke.
– No time for people who christen their children ‘Anakin’
– Environmental man on the loose again. – Whats the score with sea levels rising 7m? – Thanks to Bayerische Motorwerke.
Welcome to the forth edition of “It’s your email”, which despite the title still has nothing to do with real email. It is in fact your opportunity to comment and quiz the ObscureInternet staff on whatever you want.
Where’s is this weeks email?
Ed- Sorry there isn’t any. So we’ve redesigned the site instead.
If you any comments or questions, please send them to Itsyouremail@Obscureinternet.com
Black Bull 5:15 pm.
Derek walked into the pub and glanced around, nodding at the regulars, and unexpectedly seeing Dave, Derek walks over to their usual seat next to the quiz machine,
“Where the fuck have you been? I’ve got you a Stella, what’s this about Derek? I’ve been here ages”
Derek looked at Dave’s pint, about an inch empty, and calculated that Dave had been here about 2 minutes. “Work stuff, if anyone asks, your wife’s dead” replied Derek.
Dave picked up his pint “God rest her soul, she just couldn’t handle the size of my cock, look what is going on Derek, I’ve got a business to run, dreams to fulfil, it’s a 5p listing day and I am here buying you drink, so talk.”
“Cheers” Derek takes a good swig of his beer and fixes Dave with his best “listen to me” stare.
“Listen to me Dave, I’ve figured it out, I know what to do, I know what needs to be done to save the planet, and I need your help.” And swallows another mouthful of stella.
“Save the planet from who Derek?”
“Ourselves Dave, ourselves.”
Dave put’s down his pint and fixes Derek with his best “What the fuck are you talking about” stare
“What the fuck are you talking about Derek? Have you turned into Bob Geldof or Saint bloody you know, fuck thingy or something?”
“I believe he was the patron saint of idiots, but no, I haven’t, its just clicked this morning, I know what needs to be done to stop the planet from imploding on itself due to greed, pollution, poverty, and corruption, the whole lot, it’s a piss a piece of piss, all I need is somebody who knows about E-bay.” Derek finishes his pint. “You got a fiver? I’ll get the beers in and I’ll explain”
With pursed lips Dave passes Derek a tenner, “get a couple in, sounds like its going to be a session.”
As Derek walks to the bar Dave sips his beer and contemplates the obvious piss take that Derek is trying to pull on him, a decides to play along until he can think of a counter piss take that will earn him mucho man points against Derek. Swilling the dregs of his pint around his glass Dave takes in the bar, the usual piss heads and after work drinkers were in, he looked at Derek carrying the 4 pints back to the table with wide grin on his face and thought “Your not getting the better of me tonight Coleman, you want to be weird? I’ll out weird you”
“Cheers Derek, lovely, I’ve been thinking, that idea, genius, bring down E-Bay, send the world into an economic melt down, I’m in”
Derek sets down the drinks and sits opposite Dave “What? No. No that’s not what I am talking about, have you had an epiphany today? No. so listen. Shut up and listen.”
“We are going to auction the planet.”
Continues next week.
This weeks advise is given by Sam Fisher, who is a veteran of the CIA Directorate of Operations and of U.S. Navy SEAL Team 3. He is an operative of Third Echelon, a secretive division of the National Security Agency. Fisher is extremely agile and an expert in the art of stealth. Fisher was the first person to be recruited as a field operative, of the “Splinter Cell” program for Third Echelon. He works alone in the field — in espionage parlance, he is a singleton. Fisher resides in a townhouse in Towson, Maryland when not on the job.
I always feel sad!
Hi, I am 24yrs old and had an arranged marriage. We are first cousins. I have never met this person before nor have I seen him in my life.
Well it started out like this. It has been 2yrs since I got married, my husband loves me, and we have a lovely 17 month old son. But the problem is I’m not happy in this marriage. Sometimes he can change and become moody. I always feel sad, the interests I have – well he doesn’t have those interests.
Last year, I started work after my maternity leave, couple of weeks later, I met a guy who is in the same shift as me. We got involved in chatting and things started from there. I’ve been seeing him for over a year now. He is 32 and married with 2 children. He can tell that I’m not happy in my marriage. At work he buys me drinks and foods etc. He is a very caring person, but, I’ve said to him so many times, that, I want to end this relationship because I don’t want to upset my parents if they find out I’m seeing someone. It will jeopardise my marriage and in the end, I’ll have a bad name. He understands this perfectly, so our meeting times are secret and short. He says, he doesn’t want to hurt my parents nor jeopardise my marriage. He just wants me to stay happy.
He has also said, he cares for me deeply and loves me and also I’ve fallen for him too.. Please could you help me whether I should see this person or not. I know what I am doing is wrong but my husband doesn’t treat me this way, nor does he cares for me. I only get the chance to see my husband on Sundays, as he works nights in a restaurant, and I work an afternoon shift. So we rarely see each other.
Sam Fisher Replies –
I contacted the Third Echelon director of operations to spin the disks on this op, it did not take Lambert’s boys long to unearth some pretty disturbing things about the restaurant your spouse “works” at, it is in fact a clean house for terrorists, by clean house, I mean it’s a surveillance black hole, there are no hardwires into it, the walls have been sound insulated and the rooms with windows are unused, meaning soft scanning is not an option, further, in the 3 days we watched the zone of operations no mobile communications emanated from the building. As a precaution we ran a background check on your new “friend” turns out the scum is what black ops call a babysitter, they befriend you, find out if your secure, report back to their cell leads and if required liquidise you. We tagged his landline and overheard a conversation to somebody that he would, quote “love to take you out” Don’t worry, your “friend” won’t have the opportunity, not anymore, by the time they find his body they will need to do carbon dating to find out when he was eliminated. And there is more good news.
The “Restaurant” flat-lined last night, I went in solo and downed 12 tango’s, rigged the gas mains with C4, 30 seconds later, 1 less terrorist cell, and for you, 1 less husband and cousin.. Best of all your completely unconnected to the op. Your free.
Happy to help.
I’m frightened of death
I am very worried about dying, I’m a 14 year old boy and ever since I watched the TV programme “24” I am scared that terrorist’s will infiltrate our great country, detonate a dirty bomb and I will die. I know its irrational, and the chances of me dying are remote, but I cannot sleep at night. All I can think of is dying, my friends think I’m a sissy when I cry in class, but I cannot help it, what I can do?
Interesting to observe that all you care about is yourself, you mention your great country, but make no mention about your family, your mother, sister, your father it seems you only care for yourself, very interesting, our pych guys ran the numbers on the transcript and determined that you were a classic self absorbed delusional, in my language that makes you a threat. Another interesting thing is that regardless of where you send an email from it can be tracked, sure you can send it via a false email address and sign it Terrified, but it makes no difference, we tracked the source of this “cry for help” email back to your house Mr. Terrified, your under the watch of the 3rd Echelon now my friend.
Be good, Be afraid, Behave.
Dear Sam, I can no longer face myself in the mirror, I used to be pretty when I was young, I married a man who looked after me, I am in my late twenties but after my first son I put on some weight, now my husband has taken to calling me “Chubs” when we are alone, it hurts so much. I do not go out anymore as I feel like everyone is looking at the fat women. I only undress in the dark and I cannot remember the last time we made love. I do love Dave but I don’t think he loves me anymore and I think he is only staying with me because of our son and his words hurt me to the bone.
What should I do?
Sam Replies –
Easy answer – Lose some weight
However the easy way is not the Sam way. Wonder where your husband has been for the last week? Wonder no more, I brought him in for some re-education, without going into specifics we have re-programmed his mind to find larger women irresistible, By the time you have read this, new Dave will have returned and you will no doubt be delighted with your re-educated loving husband.
There are side effects to this process of course, it is critical you do not say “Where have you been Dave” this is a trigger phrase that will send him into a psychotic killing frenzy that will only stop when he is stopped.
Happy to help.
What’s the point of living if you can’t be god. Well if I can’t be a god I my as well create me own. A properly created religion can give you personal control influence guidance over the wallets minds hearts of those who feel that being a Free-Thinking Individual is way too much work.
Here’s how simple God-creation can be:
Create a God, with a good name.
Don’t give your God a stupid name, e.g. Inigo Pautee or one that is already taken e.g. Allah (big no-no, that one)
Get some Followers.
Tell your followers “You know everything you always wished you had in this life? After you die, you’ll get it! We promise! Hot women. Cute Guys. Flying Cars. Huge Breasts, Rivers of Chocolate that won’t add an ounce or an inch to your perfectly fit, weightless body” and other stuff like “God is your side. Believers are God’s chosen people, and only those who believe will go into paradise. Things done in the name of God are, by definition, virtuous and just. God shares your feelings and what others call prejudices – this is how you know that you are right”.
Make cool some symbols.
Use something distinctive like a the Arch, the Crown and Pigtails. Anything that people already knows and sees everywhere. And they should be easy to draw and say.
Make it ambiguous.
Why define it when you can let people fight it out themselves. People are funny. They’ll fight over anything. Even something you just made up. Enjoy the show and try not to think too much about the bad karma, remember god is on YOUR side.
You need a Devil.
An opposite perspective gives the people some else can pick sides and fight over things. Encourage Intolerance because it is fun and yet still makes you feel superior and important, while at the same time elevating you to the moral high-ground above those who you don’t agree with.
Confuse Your Followers.
This will make sure that nobody can be really certain what they believe. When you don’t spell it out exactly (or even if you do) you know how those funny humans will all magically just get along, right!
In this case, we’ll try to be real thorough here:
Inform non-believers of the available punishments to convince them to believe; Threats of eternal torment are good as it telling them “Failure to believe is bad. It makes you a bad person, and you will be punished in this life and the next. Note: helping non-believers to start believing is good, as it obviously means they will no longer deserve to be punished”.
If the believers are encouraged to donate generously to the cause, this will help to spread it further. It will help pay for missionaries to travel to far-off lands and fleets of Rolls-Royces. You could also spend the money on enormous Holy buildings throughout the land to continue the faith for centuries.
Please note this does not come with a money-back guarantee.
Tick Tock, goes the clock.
Beeb Beeb goes the alarm.
“You’re fucking late” goes the boss.
Of these 3 examples of time only one is truly interesting.
Tick Tock? Meh. Merely clock work
Beeb Beeb?, electronics, Childs play
“Your fucking late” Now that my fellow explores of science, that is truly fascinating.
Bit of a change of pace this week as unlike previous articles where months, indeed years of research were required, this experiment was done on the fly, today, with no prior tests. I woke up this morning and thought, what makes a person late. A fairly easy question you would thought, You have to be in particular place at predetermined time, if your not, your late, surly a brief experiment will yield no startling insights to time. But as regular readers know by now even the most mundane of experiments, can yield the most astonishing results.
With adrenalin pumping as it always does at the start of a new experiment I pressed on.
The Experiment –
Can I turn up at meeting scheduled for 11:00 at 11:30 and not be late?
The first task was to schedule a meeting, now to make this a true experiment I needed to invite the appropriate people, if I merely invited underlings then there would be good chance nobody would mention it, except perhaps a passing “Sorry Laz, I thought the meeting was at 11” not good enough, so I invited the boss, his boss and several people from a 3rd party company under the pretence that it was a “connectivity check point”, I slapped together a bogus agenda that had me doing all the talking and sent it. After half an hour all attendee’s had accepted, the game was afoot.
An unexpected twist at 10:15 as the boss passed my desk and asked “Already for the 11 o’clock?”
“Oh yes” I confirmed, clenching my buttocks at this added potency of the experiment, “probably best if we get in there at 10:55 to make sure there is enough seats” I added on instinct, something that has reaped rewards on more than one experiment.
10:54 I clandestinely walked out of the office , and locked myself in the disabled toilet. I may be a man of science but if it does not harm the experiment then I never deny myself a bit of luxury, and the disabled cubicle offers more than its fair share of padded area’s.
11:05 I can only imagine the excuses proffered by boss at this point.
11:10 Past the point of no return, I am almost giddy with the anticipation.
11:16 Disaster, there is a knock on the toilet door, “Laz! You in there?” it was the boss, thank god my training in amateur dramatics kicked in. “No” I said in my best disabled voice. “Where the fuck is he?” I heard him say as he walked away from the the door.
11:27 I could wait no more, I figured that 27 minutes was as good 30 and I strode to the meeting room
“Morning Gentleman, thanks for coming.” I braced myself for torrent of abuse that was required to fulfil the experiment.
A chorus of hello’s and nods from the attendee’s, I looked at the boss who was looking at his boss who was looking at the agenda.
I was crestfallen. I needed at least one person to point out that I was late in order to explain that I was not and thus validate my theory, but nothing.
I pressed on with the meeting agenda, glumly going through the points until finally bringing the meeting to a close and they all left. I was gutted.
The experiment was dismal failure. Or was it? After reviewing the notes this evening I realised I had stumbled on the result I was looking for.
Although I was 27 minutes late for meeting, as nobody alluded to the fact, either through professional courtesy, embarrassment, or sheer amazement at my bare faced cheek at me not mentioning it I had actually proven that you could turn up 30 minutes after meeting was organised and not be late!
This is my first step into the realm of time. One I will surly return to in the future.
It seemed like a good idea at the time. Let’s start a website, which will be updated daily by a fleet of slaves. So I we started the website, eagerly updating everyday while awaiting the fleet of slaves to arrive, but they never turned up. Damn you ebay, someone is going to get some really stern negative feedback. So now we are stuck updating this damn site ourselves daily until we can agree that outsourcing deal with India.
Things that is easier than updating a website daily;
Breaking off a relationship…
Stand up to a bully…
Letting go of the past…
Telling your parents you feel they are wrong…
Asking for forgiveness…
Go to church
Watch more then 3 minutes of Porn…
Talking to a friend about a destructive problem in their life…
Learn to Fly
Talking to your children about tough issues in their lives…
Stop Masturbating at work
Saying NO to a bad habit…
Discover Time travel
In fact I have done all of the above in past thirty minutes while thinking of what to write for today’s update. The masturbation at work was the hardest one because I had drive back there, it’s not easy to drive with your pants around your ankles.
Our eyes met as soon as she stepped in, I felt the connection immediately. Through the sea of people I knew she was the one. Our meeting was no mistake, this was no coincidence this was fate. Time stood still as she walked towards me, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I stared down the aisle in a vein attempt to cover my true feelings. My book, that would be my saviour, I could read my book! Never would she know how I feel about her, I could hide behind my book for as long as I needed, feigning interest in it as I contemplated our future together.
My realisation that I don’t carry a book served only to leave me off guard as took the final few steps in my direction. I tried in vein to reach for my phone in a last gasp attempt to save face but it was too late. As she stood beside me I felt the immediate connection I knew was coming.
We connected in a way no strangers should, a way that broke down all social barriers. We connected with her big flabby hip on my shoulder. That’s right the fat woman was beside me. I knew it was coming, why didn’t I try to escape. I could’ve headed to the toilet, sticky urine soaked seat would surely have been better than this. As the train swung from side to side I felt my shoulder slowly disappear, desperate to find relief for her overworked feet.
The fat woman found any ledge onto which she could relieve the burden of some of her weight and did just that. Unfortunately for me I was that ledge, my shoulder was now an official fat holding device and I could do nothing about it. My only relief came in knowing that the guy on the opposite side of the isle shared my trauma. There was a wide eyed young man, who like myself, was unprepared for what the universe had planned for him this day.
As my sanctuary approached I knew it was almost over, her stop. The tannoy rings clear, my freedom soon approaching. The final brakes were applied, we had stopped. Mere seconds stood between me and a shoulder free from flab. I realise now how premature my jubilations were. Her bag, in something reminiscent of a matrix film I watched in slow motion horror as she reached for her bag, placed to her side in a wholly successful attempt to hide what was coming. The ass, It was a fleeting moment but one which robbed me of some of my soul. The doors to the train closed and I began to reflect on another journey into work. A journey I knew I would have to repeat later that day facing the other way.
I have started looking towards Hollywood for new ways of meeting women and getting them to like me. I’ve realized that the most important thing to do is to not have a legitimate well-paying job. This is an absolute no-no and will immediately get you cast as the villian. Also, shaving and wearing nice clothing are both big turn offs, as are full beards. Death threats or murder attempts will greatly increase your chances, as will musical talents.
Here are the things that Hollywood has taught me about how to pick up chicks:
1. Steal cars. Nothing “drives” a woman into “high gear” faster than a man who can use automobile terms in his sexual innuendo.
2. Carry a giant sword, kill thousands of British soldiers, and threaten to kill the woman’s husband, the heir to the throne of England.
3. Replace your weak human skeleton with a cybernetic skeleton, travel back in time, and try to kill the woman. When that fails, travel back in time again except this time, protect her son from mercury poisoning.
4. Go to prison for five years and when you get out, rob her boyfriend’s casino of one hundred sixty million dollars.
5. Do not have a job. Instead, travel along a river and play guitar. Also, grow your hair into a pony tail and have constant stubble. Having previously been an undercover cop in a high school helps.
6. Kill a New York police captain, run to Italy, find a girl walking down the street, then go tell her father that you want to marry her or you will kill him. When you are through with her, blow her up with a car bomb.
7. Carry a guitar case full of guns and kill every man you see. Apparently, when you are finished, she will have no choice but to be with you.
8. Sneak your way onto a giant boat, make up some bullshit about being able to fly, and then freeze to death in the arctic ocean.
9. Grab a friend, sing a song to a stranger, then follow her into the bathroom and offer to have sex with her on the sink. It also helps if you have previously been a pimp, race car driver, or spy.
Finally, the absolute best way of picking up chicks…
10. If the woman’s father doesn’t like you, bring him to an orbiting asteroid, set a nuclear weapon, then take off before he can make it back to the ship.
– Back again, and on track..
– Apples from NewZealand are bad for the iceshelfs… except if you live in NZ. – Mira Craig? Sums up western culture/intelligence beautifully – Canadiens do say the funniest things.
This is not your beautiful wife.
Goddamn you sub-conscious, for several minutes there that was my beautiful wife, that was my gleaming Lexus,
“Ha-ha your so funny! I never wanted you more” dammit she sounded like warm treacle.
Fuck you alarm clock, fuck you real life I want the dirty bitch back in the fancy car, she was going to do everything. Maybe I can have her back if I hit the snooze button.
“Catch the eggs when I squeeze the chicken, what are ya!!!!”
“I’m a lesbian”
“What are ya!!!”
“I’m a lesbian”
Buzzzzzz. What the fuck was that about, I’m a lesbian egg farmer? No no no. I want the lady back.
Snooze button again.
No dream here, too busy thinking about the old bloke squeezing the chicken, fucking hell where’s the hot girl!!!
Buzzzzz. Shit! One more go, Maybe if I fiddle with my balls and hit the snooze button again she’ll come back.
“I think the whale has some sort of gum disease. A course of anti-biotic’s will get him doing those loop the loops again in a week”
“Thank-you, you’re a very good vet, very good”
“Circus Master! Circus Master the whale is dead!!!”
“WHAT!!!! You fucking idiot vet, you’ve murdered us all!!!!!”
Buzzzzz. Oooooookay, stop playing with yourself, Now!! I’ve got to get up for work. That girl is going to haunt me all day. Fuckityfuck
So what’s it’s all about, why? what possible use is dreaming about dirty girls, rotting whales and lesbian apprentice chicken farmers going to be to me? What evolutionary value has this?
Value, none, its vicious.
Vicious, mind fuckingly vicious.
Freud believed that all dreams were significant, well I think Freud was a significunt. I know some people cannot remember their dreams, lucky bastards, but for those that can, think about it, they either scare you shitless, show you fantasies that could never happen or are completely incomprehensible.
“They organise your memories of the day and fuse the synaptic connections that make them permanent, without dreams you could not remember anything” Is another popular theory. Well I admit I do have a memory of a great looking girl removing her bra locked in my head, but oddly that scenario had not happened the day before. Yesterday I had meeting with the tech guys from another company who are building an interface into our logging system and it would have been extremely useful if my dreams had locked the memory of the required hardware required to complete the task from our side when I had the follow up meeting with my boss today, but oh no. I remember a blond girl stroking her erect nipple, Organise and lock in memories my fat almost sacked arse.
Take it from me, dreams are a curse.
El Humero, the Paranoid Human.
Welcome to the third edition of “It’s your email”, which despite the title still has not received any real email, Nevertheless It is in fact your opportunity to comment and quiz the ObscureInternet staff on whatever you want.
I would like you to come to my birthday party. If I send you an invitation, will you come?
Ed- Sorry, no way, not after the last party. I’ve never play pass the parcel with Ted Kaczynski ever again.
Do you think there’s any chance that Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie will last?
-Brad Pitt in Los Angeles
Ed- None whatsoever. Thanks for asking.
Spying in America
I understand that George Bush has been illegally spying on American citizens. Bush says it’s his right to do this because we’re at war now. But my friend Bill says it’s tantamount to tyranny. I’m not sure who to believe.
-Unsure in Iowa
Ed- Believe George Bush, of course! George Bush is the president of the United States of America! America, You heard of it? It’s the great nation on this earth! Can you not see the exclamation points!
“I started having out-of-body experiences when I was a teenager. I couldn’t tell anyone, because they would think I was crazy. After the question and answer session, I felt good knowing that this is a perfectly natural experience.”
-Francine K. San Francisco
Ed- Perhaps this is related to your ridiculous surname. “San Francisco” isn’t cool, go and penitently change your name to something cool like Lahk
“Its about today’s I’m interested in actually, the bank you say? Are sure? Do banks usually address there customers as Superman?”
Derek’s brain went into turbo, “no-way he could of monitored the call, he was standing the other side of the room, next to Alan, his new Deputy Team Leader, do they record all out-going calls now? There must be hundreds. No chance Kent would of listened to a recording, he’s too busy showing Alan the rope’s. Showing Alan the ropes, showing Alan what to do, like time sheets and reporting and monitoring calls.” Fuck.
“Oh that call, yeah look, it was joke call, I’ll make it up tomorrow, I’ll…”
“A Joke call?” Kent interrupted. “You know FET’s policy on personal calls. Emergency only and even then with a Team Leaders permission, nowhere does it mention joke calls, Look Derek, you’ve been here 3 years, your this close to becoming a senior agent. Senior. Agent. But how can I bump you up to senior after this, how Derek. How? ” .
Derek thought for a moment “You could change my name plate to “Derek Coleman, Senior Agent” because as far as I can see that’s the only difference between an agent and a senior agent”.
“That’s a disappointing reply, Derek, disappointing and inaccurate, as senior you would be focal point in the team, an inspiration to the newer agents, and it is one step from deputy team leader” replied Kent.
Derek looked at his watch. He was going to be late, not that it mattered that much, Dave would be at least 20 minutes late due to his almost passionate indifference towards timekeeping, but still this was not a typical Kentian bollocking which lasted 5 seconds and was forgotten about even quicker, something was different, Derek scanned the surroundings and quickly realised the reason for extra drama. Sitting in the desk opposite was Alan, the new DTL, studiously not looking at either of them. Brian the bastard, he was showing the new man how to a run a tight a ship, its Bollocking 101 and he was the subject. “Right”, Derek thought “I’ve got 2 options, make Brian look like a twat in front of his new DTL and be late, or play along with this, get it over with in a few seconds, get out of here and save the planet.
Not really a decision.
“Look Mr. Kent, you know I would not do anything to jeopardise my dream of becoming senior, but that joke phone call I made cheered up a man who has recently lost his wife, in doing so he has agreed to go out for a quiet drink with me tonight, the first time since she passed on, and hopefully start to live his life again, now as I understand FET’s policy on unauthorised personal calls it’s a disciplinary with my immediate supervisor and his manager, in this case, you and Sandra Bellsing, whom I believe recently returned to work after a long period of sickness, depression the email said. I’m fully prepared to face the consequences of my actions.”
In under 5 seconds Kent did the social and political calculations, ran several scenario’s of how the meeting would go and in all case’s he came out a tit in front of his boss, even factoring in how this would look in front of his new DTL whom only minutes ago he had a promised a “firework display” his decision was even easier than Derek’s; “I don’t think we need to invoke the full powers of FET’s disciplinary might in this instance Mr. Coleman, especially as you clearly have mitigating circumstance’s, in future please let me know when you are putting your Samaritans hat on, ok?”
“Message received” Derek turned and walked towards the shiny exit sign.
“Who you having a drink with tonight Derek?” Kent called after him.
“Dave Filey” Derek smoothly answered.
“Right, Dave, give him my condolence’s”
“Will do Mr.Kent, will do”
And with that Derek was out.
Its interesting to note that it will not be until Kent sees Dave Filey on the Six o’clock news some 3 weeks later that he remembers he had met Dave, at the last Christmas Party, at which Dave had explained, at length, the virtues of bachelorhood, but by this time Derek was as far from the claws of FET’s judicial system, Derek, had just saved the planet.
Derek Coleman’s quest to save the planet is a weekly serial. Catch the next part next week
First an update, Mystery of the Disappearing Kleenex, It turns out she was using bog roll.
When was the last time you sharpened your pencil sharpener? How many times in the last year have you had to replace your cutlery knife because it no longer cut your food? On average how many pairs of kitchen scissors have you thrown out because they are too blunt? If your like me the answer to all of the above is never.
Never. Why? Because they don’t go blunt after using them twice, unlike these Gillette Mach 3 that cut the bristles on your chin like a hot knife through warm butter the first time, then a knife through butter the second time, then like warm butter through a cold knife after that.
Why? It’s a titanium coated steel laminate blade that is cutting hair for fucks sake, its not like your cutting diamonds with it, its not even cutting paper, its cutting hair. You should be able to hand them down to your children’s children as an heirloom.
“Here Bobby Jay, this is the razor I used when I first met your Grandma, It’ll make your chin as smooth today as it did back when I had eye’s” But no, that’s crazy horse shit talk, it’ll last you 2 times before it will slice your cheek off before it cuts the bristle. But this is alright because they are so cheap that you can throw them away after 2 uses and buy some more, surly something this crappily made must cost pennies yes?
Shopkeeper – “That will be 5.80 for 4 blades please”
Me – “Oh I just want the razor blades, not your daughters virginity”
Shopkeeper – “Haha, yes they are quite expensive, I wonder why that is, that’ll be 5.80”
Me – “Shove them up your arse, I’m growing a beard”
Shopkeeper “Fat man with beard, you’ll be beating the ladies off with a stick, that’ll be 5.80”
Me – “Here’s money, how do you sleep at night?”
Shopkeeper – “Gillette send round a couple of tart’s to go down on me until I drift off, see you in a couple of days”
You know, if you bought a car, it drove like a sports car the first day, like a saloon car the next day, and ripped your chin off the third day you’d take it back to the showroom and they would be full of apologies, “We’ll fix, we’ll fix, here’s a courtesy car in the mean time, I love you.”
Take a 2 day old razor back to Tesco’s and they look at you like you’ve whipped your cock out and cum on the till.
But, I am a man of science, I needed proof that we were being ripped off, so an experiment was required –
I dismantled a brand new Mach 3 razor blade, and proceeded to use the blade to cut paper, after shredding 50 sheets of A4 there appeared to be no difference in the sharpness of the blade.
I dismantled a second blade and started to cut empty beer cans, after the third beer can the blade was noticeably blunter.
OK, so far I had determined that bristles were significantly harder than paper, and about par to aluminium.
The next phase was to determine how strong aluminium was, so using a 4 foot long length of 2 by 4 wood I hit a can of beer off my table against a wall, it did not break. This was my baseline.
The next test was to see if bristles could withstand the same force, for this I needed a man with a beard.
The hair was undamaged.
I was beginning to see why razor blades did not last long, they may be titanium coated, but it appeared that chin hair was as strong as a metal alloy, if not stronger. To complete the experiment and truly vindicate razors I had to see how strong bristles were so for the next 8 weeks I collected my shavings into a sandwich bag and persuaded my friend who works for a company who makes wrought iron gates, to put the bag into a hydraulic forming press, the result was near amazing, after applying nearly 70 tons of pressure to the bristles not one was damaged.
So there you have it, why do razors go blunt? Because bristles are the hardest thing on the planet.
BEEP “FET Helpdesk, Derek speaking can I take you staff ID or Reference Number” “Yes, sorry about the delay, it’s a bit hectic this morning, can I take your Staff ID or Refe………Technically speaking you don’t actually pay for this………..I understand your frustration, but if you can give me your Staff ID or reference I can qui………..You can’t open Word, right, OK, can I have your name so I can log this…….You click on the shortcut and excel opens, well it sounds like shortcut is pointing to the wrong EXE, we should be able to fix that quickly, if you could give me your Staff ID I can be………..Sir, I need a staff ID so I can start logging the call………..right, its fixed itself, OK, well I still need your staff ID so I can log……………its for statistics…….you’ve gone. Great”
BEEP “FET Helpdesk, Derek speaking if you can bear with me a moment I just need to finish logging the last call………….thanks but if you can give me you staf ID again in a moment I just need to………….problem with laptop………if I could just finish this las………..numbers instead of letters, try pressing the function key and numlock and if you could bear with me I’ll just finish the last…….”
BEEP “FET Helpdesk, Derek speaking” And so Derek’s day progress’s, willing the clock to move faster, his mind constantly flicking between the mundane of his job and the astonishing white hot idea that will become his destiny.
Finally, what feels like 67 hours later Derek’s shift ends. He diligently logs out of his phone, logs off his computer and heads towards the exit.
“Mr. Coleman“ Brian Kent, Derek’s team leader, “A brief word if you don’t mind”. Derek sighed “can this wait till tomorrow Brian? I’m meeting somebody”. Brian nodded “Yes, no problem Mr. Coleman, it’s just about personal call’s it can wait” Derek mind raced through the possibilities, he had made the call to Dave this morning, and he knew Brian monitored random calls, indeed he seldom did anything else, but he had seen Brian away from his desk when he made his 10 second call.. he could not have heard, it must be about the call to the bank he made yesterday, it must of shown up on the logs, no problem, a 30 second Kenting and he would be out of here. “Oh yeah, yesterday, I needed to ring my bank, I did it in my break, sorry about that” “had to ring again today, sorry” Derek added, pre-empting the inevitable follow up rollicking he would receive tomorrow when Brian would no doubt make a point of checking his logs.
“Its about today’s I’m interested in actually, the bank you say? Are sure? Do banks usually address there customers as Superman?”
Derek Coleman’s quest to save the planet is a weekly serial. Catch the next part next week
Well, watched Sin City for a third time. Jesus, what a film! I started thinking, what would happen if some undesirables broke into my house, what would I do? What would you do? Well, I’ll tell you.
First I’d round house Duke, [Duke the big one with the love, hat tattoos on his fingers (he lost his pinkie in a brawl with a hooker in 93)] then with a move that a ballerina would be proud of, I’d pivot on my heels and backhand Chico breaking his nose and jaw, he instantly crumples to the floor sobbing “ma, my ma” before passing out. The third felon, Dewey, stands and starts to cry “man, it was a joke, I didn’t…” His sentence is cut off abruptly as I jam an ashtray into his throat, he drops like a sack of wet potatoes onto the floor. His bowels release. The stench is invigorating. I turn to my family and nod, “It’s okay now, Daddy has fixed it”
This is how grown men think. They believe they are superhuman. They believe they can protect the things they love. In reality Duke would of thrown boiling water over me, Chico would have started to load up the tranny with the bairns game cube and the TV, and fuck knows what Dewey would of done to my family the sick fuck.
I have had an epiphany: the next time somebody knocks on your door, be prepared, get a gallon of petrol, dowse the fuckers, whoever they are, light a match, then, as politely as you can ask-
“Can I help you?”
El Humero, the Paranoid Human.
Welcome to Ask.. This week special celebrity agony aunt is Alan Hansen, (born Alloa, Scotland, June 13, 1955) was one of football’s most elegant defenders of his generation and later became a successful television pundit, so who better to give advice to the worthless masses?
Hello, I need some advice. My wife (52) and I (54) are having lots of problems regarding intimacy. At present work, two teenagers, and my wife’s nightly internet sessions mean we only have any chance of intimacy Saturday and Sunday mornings before the kids are up. Lately even this has been interrupted with my wife’s apparent bad nights. Talking directly with her doesn’t work because she gets too uptight. I’ve tried e-mailing jokes to her but she sees them as ‘pathetic’. So, to cut a long story short, she sees my requests for intimacy ‘demanding’ . This gives me the impression that she does not value our relationship anymore. I’ve tried to discuss this with her but she counters by saying that my behaviour has changed due to pressures at work, and that her mind is ‘full with things’ (What things? She won’t tell me!)
Gareth, Gareth, Gareth, dear o dear. You have got to be more assertive, Like I was telling Emile Hesky, Defenders hate facing opponents with genuine pace, but they are petrified of players with pace, coupled with the power and strength Heskey possesses
He should be knocking people over legitimately. In short, he’s got to be harder. Sol Campbell is a big, strong, quick defender but I saw him annihilated by a bigger, stronger and quicker player at Filbert Street not so long ago – Heskey.
But I believe Heskey must use his best assets to better effect. He was superb at Derby, but I want to see him terrorise teams every week. He should have defenders quaking in their boots.
In short Gareth my old son, If you are wanting a result every week, take the bull by the horns.
I need your help about my mum. My father left before i was born so I’ve never seen him and hes never seen me. That doesn’t bother me though because i have my Nan and Grandad. My mum had a little girl about 2 years ago so theres a big age difference between us but we get on so well. Lately my mum won’t stop shoutting at me about the littlest things but worst still she does it in front of her friends and mind and it’s not fair.
My friends don’t know what to do so they just look at the floor. I’m hardly home though i’m always out with my boyfriend or at my friends or i’m at work for 12 hours a day. I know it must be hard for my mum because shes alone but she doesn’t have to take it out on me does she? Please help because i’m thinking about moving out just down my Nan and Grandad’s house because I can’t stand it no more, it’s been going on for to long.
Heheh, your mum sounds a right feisty one. I’ve met many a manager whose bark is worse then his bite, the way to deal with them, in my experiance, is to give as good as you get, If she shouts you yell, if she screams, you throw something, mark my words Hannah, she will quickly respect you and give you the contract you deserve.
Also you might want to buy a dictionary love, there is no x in thanks.
My name is Julia and I am married. I have been married for 4 months now. My husband Alan is great…but for one thing….I have a disorder called Turners Syndrome which means basically I can’t have children naturally, although IVF is an option. When I bring up the subject of children with Alan he just says no and that’s that.
Alan has been married before and has a daughter, am I being selfish wanting a child of my own with Alan. I understand all we will have to go through, but don’t you think if he loved me he would support me? I don’t understand why he doesn’t want children with me? I’m starting to think that perhaps he loved his first wife more.
Please can you help sort this one out, how can I go about bringing up the subject of children again and getting Alan to listen?
Hope you can help
For gods sake’s Julia we’ve been through this, the simple truth is I don’t have time to be a full time pundit/Agony Aunt as well as being a new dad. The fact that you were barren was what attracted me to you in the first place.
Please can you advise me on how the law stands on family assault? I am a woman of 36, and still live at home with my parents who are in their 50s and my brother who is 33. Recently my dad and brother went to the pub supposedly for just an hour or so, but they didn’t come home for seven hours and were drunk. And when my dad eventually came home, he brought a person back with him who I detest. I admit I was in the wrong because as soon as I saw this person, I insulted him and embarrassed my father, who at the time went very quiet. He then telephoned my brother to come home.
Then my mum hid up because I had embarrassed her aswell. My dad then went berserk, he ranted and pushed me up the stairs, told me to “get to my room” then chased me up there and was about to hit me, then stopped himself. Then when my brother came home, he went berserk at me as well, he turned into a monster. He poked me in the face, and pushed me and also punched me in the arm. I couldn’t say a word because if I had, he would have hit me in the face. He said I am “an evil bitch”. I know I was in the wrong for insulting the person but is what happened after against the law, even though it was within the family? This is not the first time my brother has attacked me, but he has quite a bullying nature and is always in the right. My parents just let him carry on because they don’t like aggravation.
Well, after reviewing the tape there is clear provocation from you, and back in my day you would of felt the “wrath of Hanson” for that sort of behaviour, but its not my time, in the modern game if you lift your hands your asking to be sent off and that’s just what your brother did, my advice is the next time it happens and he push’s his finger in your face, drop to the ground screaming like a Spanish winger, roll across the floor a couple of time to get the refs attention and wave to the sideline in a desperate attempt to get the physio on, the crowd won’t like it but it might just get him sent off.
I’m moaning and nagging!
I am 25 and have been married for three years, I have 2 young children to my husband. I hope you can help me as I have no one else to turn to. My husband is becoming increasingly distant towards me and I feel used and taken for granted. Although I am thoughtful and caring towards him he doesn’t do anything to try and make me happy any more. I know he is very busy and under pressure from work but he never comments on my appearance and doesn’t seem to care what I do. When I try to confront him he just tells me I’m moaning and nagging.
I love him so much he is a good father and I could be so happy with him if he were like he used to be, but I feel as though he is making it harder for me to love him and find myself fantasising about other men I spend hours thinking what it might be like to be with someone who found me attractive and interesting. I also wonder whether he himself might be having an affair as he has lost interest in sex. He flicks through the channels on the television and if there’s nothing he wants to watch he turns to me. Please don’t tell me to put more effort in myself as I’ve really tried doing the things for him that I would like myself and he doesn’t seem to take the hint.
Thank you in anticipation.
Job one, change your name, If your called Downtrodden then your just asking for trouble.
“I’ve really tried doing the things for him that I would like myself and he doesn’t seem to take the hint”
Well there’s your problem in a nutshell, when I was doing ad-hoc football consulting for Man U and they asked me about Rio Ferdinand I told them it will be great business for Manchester United despite the massive price tag. Ferdinand showed during the World Cup that he was the best defender in the competition. And given that United have had problems at centre-half for the past couple they had no option but to buy a quality defender, which is what they have got in Rio. He is still only 23 and will improve, and I have no doubt that over a period of time Ferdinand will prove to be the best, Rio is a top class player. He is intelligent, he is good on the ball and in the air – basically he has got the lot.
So, take your lesson from me, if you want to win him back, buy a world class centre-half.
Alan was speaking to.. Hume