I don’t know, it’s something about the way she looks like she kind of hates me, right? Look at her, just putting up with me, quietly wishing for a different life. Awww, she’s so cute with her hopes and dreams of something better.

Marcus: Who’d have thought there was a bus operating in Knowl Hill! I’m genuinely taking the bus to Maidenhead right now! Me: My phone accidentally deleted all my numbers, but I’ll assume that this is Marcus, the only person uninteresting enough to text me things about bus routes. Does this mean that your morning commute […]

The following is a genuine recounting of a part of the Norse Mythology. There exists a poem called Lokasenna in which Loki (you know, the super sexy Tom Hiddleston from the Marvel franchise one) is hanging out and having a few drinks with some of the Æsir (gods), but is kicked out after inexplicably murdering a waiter that they were all being really nice to. After a little time away, presumably stewing in anger, Loki returned to throw down the gauntlet and show the gods some serious smack talk. All I can say is god damn, this would have livened up The Avengers movie.

What follows is a genuine account of the resulting quarrel.

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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?

Here’s a very quick (and totally true) story about pirates (you guys know that I have a huge obsessions with pirates, right?), or, to be more precise, a story about one pirate in particular. It’s a super dumb story, and you’re going to love it.

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A short transcript of a conversation follows, wherein elusive billionaire Bruce Wayne takes an attractive, young lady to his bedroom.

Girl: Mister Wayne. How about we get these constricting clothes off.

Bruce: I was just about to suggest the same thing, young lady.

Girl: Oh, Mister Wayne, what a fine… wa – wait…

Bruce: What?

Girl: All those… scars. What the fuck?

Bruce: Oh, it’s just…

Girl: What the fuck!?

Bruce: I play polo, that’s all. It’s ra-

Girl: Jesus, fucking Jesus!

Bruce: -rather a dangerous sport. That’s all, don’t worry. Now, where were we…

Girl: Woah, woah. Polo? I’m not an idiot. I’m not a – a – a fucking idiot! Oh, god… you…

Bruce: I… what?

Girl: Oh, for fuck’s sake. You’re the fucking Batman, aren’t you.

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*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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