So this Internet guy said some really nice stuff about me…

His name is Tom, I assume, and he goes by @iTomFoolery.

It turns out that he liked some of my tweets, and decided to tell everyone how funny I was. Not that I think I am funny. I mean, I am… But… He said it, not me.

Anyway, listen to it, tell me how great I am, and then go on twitter and tell him how great he is too. Also, follow him… Not because he’s funny, even though he definitely is very funny, but just because he said nice things about me, and that’s pretty cool.

On a serious note (implying that all previous notes weren’t serious), I really appreciate things like this. I don’t tweet for fun, or to kill the hours; I mean, it does fill both of those slots, but at the same time, it is actually very important to me. I don’t finish working a great job and then come home to my fancy four-bedroom to write some tweets. Writing is what I want to do with my life, and every day that it’s not how I get my salary, is a wasted day, as far as I’m concerned; and twitter, albeit a minor way, is still a great way to get myself a little closer to this, and out of hiding in the cellar at the bar where I spend every night, trying to think up jokes.

Anyway, this is a link to Tom’s little ‘shout out’. Have a listen and maybe have a laugh. If you achieve both, I’m sure that Tom and I will be equally pleased.

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An asshole, Inside (or ‘Inside an Asshole’)

As many will know; my part of the world is currently knee-deep in the 2012 European Football Championship. As many will also know; I couldn’t care less. I’ve never watched an entire football game in my life, nor a game of any other sport, I doubt. I don’t support any team, I don’t have any favourite players, I don’t feel pride when ‘my‘ country wins, nor do I feel sorrow when it loses. When England compete, and everyone around me is screaming and cheering (or more often, screaming and swearing), I find it hard to understand their emotional investment in seeing a bunch of overpaid Gillette salesman and fancy walking shoe racks with silly haircuts and gaudy tattoos running back and forth, kicking a ball for an hour and a half. I understand that people do love it, and live and breath by it in many cases, so you need not correct me; I’m simply stating that as a person with my disposition, I find it impossible to be so attached to something that I see as so insignificant.

So why did I feel butterflies in my stomach and a quickening of my pulse during the tense moments of England’s recent match that I was forced to watch at work the other day?

Simply. Because I’m an asshole.

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Felix’s Incredible 100% True Animal Facts – Volume 3

Enclosed, please find a list of unbelievable animal facts. These facts have been well researched and documented, by proper professional people, and as such you can be assured of their absolute authenticity. No bullshit here, folks.

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I wanted to write a proper post tonight…

It’s been a while since I’ve done a serious post, so I was thinking of maybe doing something on religion, or modern media, or sexual equality, or something with a similar gravitas. I took a notepad out at work, and jotted down a few ideas. Here’s what I came up with:

Three different puns based on the names of common flavours of soup.

I’m not even joking. There are diagrams.

Want to know what they were?

Nah… You probably don’t want to know what they were…

Felix’s Zinger

I don’t often speak up when confronted, or witnessing a confrontation, from an outside instigator, but when I do; boy, does my quick wit show them…

So, some assholes came up to the bar at closing time last night. This is what happened.

Asshole 1: What time do you close tonight?
Co-worker: About five minutes, sir.
Asshole 2: Ha! Fuck off!
Co-worker: I’m afraid so, and please don’t swear.
Asshole 1: We aren’t fucking going anywhere, mate.
Asshole 2: Yeah, we’re staying and getting fucking pissed.
Asshole 1: We’ll still be here at fucking six in the morning, mate.
Me (from across the bar): Yeah? Well you’ll be pretty thirsty.

BOOM! Fucking take that shit, asshole. Yeah, you better not quite understand my joke and slowly walk away. Believe it, bitch.

I showed him, right guys?