Because apparently this shop keeper thought that a window display depicting a gallows gallery of hanging teddy bears would be an appropriate way to advertise her stock. P.S. I know. The title. I’m sorry. If you can think of a better teddy bear / genocide pun or portmanteau, please leave a comment!

A man walks into a Doctor’s office. These never end well, do they?

*ring ring* *ring ring* *ring ring*

*click*

Operator: Gooooood morning, suicide hotline.

Dave: Uh… hi. My name’s… Dave.

Operator: Well, how do you doodle-e do, Dave?

Dave: … … …

Operator: *audibly smiling*

Dave: Uh, well… not great, obviously.

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There are a lot of reasons why I should hate them, I’ll be honest. Like their neighbours in the land of rock-that-clearly-isn’t-actually-rock music, Coldplay, the Chili Peppers are one of those bands so devoid of personality, that it takes a not-unsubstantial portion of my energy just to hear someone say their name. It’s one of those easy-answer ‘favourite bands’ that are loved by people who aren’t so much fans of the music, but rather just fans of not having to sit in terrifying silence. The spider-feet guitar sounds mixed with the odd clunking bass and the nasal dross that makes up the vocals all congeal into a thick grey paste of oozing weariness that… I’ve just remembered that this wasn’t what this post was supposed to be about. Continue reading

Me: Okay, time to check Facebook.

Facebook App: Oh, hey. You, uh, want me to open?

Me: Yeah, thanks.

Facebook App: Ooh, might take a while.

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Me: Yes, mother?

Mum: I didn’t text you, so what does ‘yes, mother’ mean? Mind you, it’s always nice to hear from you.

Me: I had a missed call from you earlier. Was that not you? My phone says it was you, and my phone never lies, mother.

Mum: I didn’t call, and I certainly didn’t call early in the morning. I must have sat on my phone or something.

Me: Have you been murdered? Am I now speaking to the person who killed you after you tried calling me for help? Admit it. You have to tell me if that’s true. Come on, man; don’t be a dick.

Mum: I can’t be a dick, I’m a girl; and also, I’m fairly sure that I’m alive. Maybe it was a call from a parallel world.

Me: But why would they have called me? On purpose, you think; or maybe it was solar interference scrambling the satellite signals. Maybe you were calling me from the future. You can’t disprove that.

Mum: Okay, whatever. I’m busy internet shopping. Don’t make me think, it’s scary.

Me: Yeah, the thought of you thinking does chill me to the bone. Tell your knock-off handbags I said hi.

Mum: Handbags are cheaper than psychiatrists.

Me: In your case, however, they clearly aren’t as effective.

Mum: That’s only because I haven’t found the right one.

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Parking Officer: I’m sorry, miss Del Ray, but you can’t park your car here. Lana Del Rey: *runs hand down officer’s cheek* Parking Officer: Uh, yeah. So unless you move it… Lana Del Rey: *catches blood red rose petal that falls from the sky* Parking Officer: Where…? Uh, whatever. Unless you move your car… Lana […]