Monday 24 May 2010

Save the Planet.

That's right, I have single handedly solved global warming.

The way I see it, the problem is cars. Cars apparently let out gases that make earth sad, and we can't have that.


Look at what you're doing, industry.

I'm well aware that there's something about factories and industry in there, but factories make cars, yes? And once cars are rendered obsolete, we therefore won't need any factories anymore. For anything. As you can see, I've done a lot of thinking, and my logic is flawless.

So, I hear you ask, what are we going to use instead of cars? How will we possibly get from point A to point B? The answer is simple.

Bears.

The advantages of this are obvious, but in case you don't see the obvious superiority of ursine transportation, I'll point out the three biggest advantages.

1. Automobile theft will go down.

Which is easier, stealing a car:

Pictured: Car Crime

Or stealing a bear?

Pictured: Crime Prevention With Bears

Bears can defend themselves. Cars can't.

2. Bears are Safer.

According to thorough and diligent research (five minutes on wikipedia), there were about fourteen fatal bear attack incidents in North America in the last ten years. In comparison, in the US alone, in one year there were 42,815 people killed in car accidents. It's fairly clear which is the safe mode of travel here.

3. They're bears.

Enough said.

Petrol stations had better start selling honey and wild salmon. I'm expecting my cheque from Al Gore any day now.

Also, I really can't draw bears on ms paint

Wednesday 12 May 2010

With apologies to Elton John and Bernie Taupin...

So, Gordon Brown's no longer prime minister. No one's particularly upset about it, but remembering the death of a certain royal figure I was far too young for, and having a bit of Elton John on the brain, I ended up coming up with this...

Goodbye, Gordon Brown,
Though we never liked you at all,
At least you're somewhat better than
The prick who's now in charge,
He swans around in Downing Street,
Sipping wine and eating canapés,
Cuts public services,
It's us who'll have to pay.

And it seems to me,
That trying to cast a vote,
It's just like pissing in the wind,
Nothing we say or do can ever change,
Whether Dave gets in...
And I would have liked to have voted,
But I was just a kid...
But Thatcher burnt the country out
Before Gordon ever did.

TV debates were tough,
But all three went that extra mile,
Nick Clegg wowed us all,
As Gordon learned to smile.
And though the ladies swooned,
It didn't mean there were any more seats,
For the Liberal Democrats,
It seems our voting system's weak.

And it seems to me,
That trying to cast a vote,
It's just like pissing in the wind,
Nothing we say or do can ever change,
Whether Dave gets in...
And I would have liked to have voted,
But I was just a kid...
But Thatcher burnt the country out
Before Gordon ever did.

Goodbye Gordon Brown,
Though we never liked you at all,
There's a "new kind of politics",
and I guess it's time to leave.
Goodbye Gordon Brown,
From the young man who still can't cast a vote,
Wouldn't have voted labour anyway,
It's Lib Dems all the way.

And it seems to me,
That at least, at last,
The lib dems have some power,
I guess the whole election's
Been Nick Clegg's finest hour,
And I would have liked to have voted,
But I was just a kid,
And Thatcher burned the country out
Before Gordon ever did...

Friday 7 May 2010

In these troubled times...

So, to use the sensationalist term, "Britain woke up this morning to a hung parliament". Uncertainty about the election reigns supreme, etc, etc. It's fairly obvious what's going to happen, as a result of all the deal brokering and whispered conversations in Westminster: power will go to the political figure who has long craved for a real rise to the seat of government.

The Queen.

It's just what the old dame needs. She's been patiently planning for such a day: as the government gradually becomes less trusted with the whole "Expenses Scandal", and now there's uncertainty about who exactly will end up in charge. The machiavellian mistress of subterfuge will take advantage of the chaos and not invite anyone to form a government - in fact, she'll dissolve parliament. Completely.

Years of hanging onto the throne, refusing to give into her softer son, so she can complete this moment and restore the monarchy of Britain to it's former glory. Of course, there will be resistance. England's second great civil war will break out, all major political parties forming an alliance to remove the royalist threat to security. Nick Griffin will attempt to join with the royal family, saying they're the "britisher" side until he realises that the queen is essentially German and is married to a Greek, at which point he will briefly try to create a third side in the war and will then be utterly ignored.

Meanwhile, the Royalist base of operations will be Balmoral castle, defended by the cyborg-corgis Her Majesty has been preparing and arming with lasers for just such an event. Despite her advanced age, the Queen herself will be at the very centre of operations, issuing orders here, there, and everywhere. I can just imagine how they sound...

"Phillip, shoot them, shoot them! Look, dear, that one's foreign!"

"William, dear, I need you to purloin another helicopter, we have Tory Troopers incoming at Eight o Clock."

"No, Harry, dear, you can't rename the airforce the Luftwaffe. Just try to get the buggers who are assailing the North Wall, would you?"

"And Charles... just stay where you are and try not to get hurt, dear."

Of course, after many bloody battles, the war will come to a single combat standoff on a lonely Scottish moor - Gordon Brown, fully back to his Scottish roots, will be wielding a Claymore in an epic duel against the Queen herself.

Who will win? Well, you know what they say: there can only be one...

Tuesday 4 May 2010

This blog post is not about lions. Well, not much.

It was going to be a delightful nature documentary about lions filled with dreadful puns, but I had a slight problem - lions are frickin' hard to draw on paint. Maybe I should invest in some real sort of drawing package for this laptop, or, indeed, a mouse which is vaguely the right size for my hand. My MS Paint David Attenborough antics will have to wait.

It should probably be known, though, that I'm writing this post listening to the Broadway version of The Lion King - truly one of the cinematic greats of our history. The original film, obviously, not the Broadway musical as that's pretty obviously a musical. Anyway, this opinion can get me some odd looks. Imagine, if you will, that I'm at a posh dinner party. This has never happened to me, but you never know. The conversation turns to the wonderful art of cinema, and the host, a portly gentleman with a huge moustache and a monocle, begins to talk.

"... I mean, it's really gone downhill. I remember when we had real films worth waiting for. I remember The Dambusters - that was a damn good film, damn good." At this point, the rest of the room makes those particular strange noises posh people do when they agree with each other. (I wonder vaguely if it has a theme tune which goes "Who you gonna call?")

"Ayaaaaars, yaaaars" - that's the nearest I can get to notating said noise without making them sound like a drunken pirate - and, sadly, it's not that kind of dinner party.

"For instance," he says, waving his half full glass of port vaguely, and warming to his theme, "That recent 'Avatar' film. I mean, it's all very pretty, but it's hardly high art, is it?"

At this point, I feel I have to interject in this world of dinner jackets and cigars. "Why, yes," I sycophantically add, "it left me feeling a little blue." Sadly, my fellow party guests evidently have a less highly honed sense of humour than me, and my joke receives only a stony silence instead of the applause, slaps on the back, and offers of marriage from the classier sort of socialite I feel it deserved. Such is life.

Desperately trying to recover my standing in the room, I play the pseudo intellectual/complete snob card. "I mean, although it's good entertainment for the proles, it's hardly high art. It hardly stands up against the classics - Citizen Kane, Vertigo, The Lion King..."

You can imagine the reception this would have - this might be why I'm not invited to posh dinner parties like this.

On a final note, my own personal reason for avoiding Avatar is that, on getting back from watching it, I spent the next two weeks ill with Swine Flu (some time after anyone took it seriously). Now, I definitely don't want you to think that James Cameron transported me to another world where strange alien diseases infected me. That's not what I'm saying at all.

Nope, not remotely.

Look at their filthy diseased bodies.