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Barry Shitpeas
28.12.09I fucking love Charlie Brooker.
Not only does he speak more than sense than almost every other “TV expert”, but he seems to actually even despise the very company he works for (the beasts known as Endemol, famous for such shit as Big Brother).
I can’t understand why so many people are happy to watch seriously bad shows such as X Factor, the aforementioned Big Brother or Britain’s Got (Very Little) Talent – I’d rather scoop out my eyeballs with a spoon than watch any of that guff.
If there were more Charlie Brooker’s in the world, surely television would be slightly more bearable.
Toodle pip.
From David McFarlane
Pursuit of Happiness
23.12.09Damn Snow
23.12.09Damn snow. I will not be dominated by the weather of this calibre, yet my emotions are controlled from little white trinkets, gliding towards impact. The divine sensation of assaulting strangers with a compiled, round obelisk of snow, yet you continue to fight the resistance of the snows impact towards your heavily armoured body. groups of children devising tactics to bombard anybody who trespasses their territory, even kin. Fat chunks of snow are used to create structures of war, holding devious ammounts of ammunition, and people. They call this piece of architecture a Igloo. the ingenious hybrid of Science and Maths, they created a hut using the laws of physics. oh well.
Mw2
23.12.09Lawl, I’m Banned from playing online for hacking. I hacked myself into being rank 714 on the Leader-boards for Points, Kills and Wins. Look’s like i’m going to have to force myself into making a new account. I was Two trophies away from getting Platinum. But now two days later, I’m now 9th prestige and using a aimbot. go suck it 420.
Flavors.me
23.12.09Narrator: Clive’s phone rings.
Clive: Hello?
Bob: Clive, i have to tell you something,
Bob: Something important,
Bob: That you have to know
Clive: ok..? what is it?
Bob: I HAVE A FLAVORS.ME ACCOUNT AND YOU DONT LOLOLOLOLOLOLOL HAHAHAHA FUCKING LOSER ADN UR GHEY UR GHEY UR GH-
Narrator: Call dropped.
Narrator: Ten minutes later-
Clive: Hello?
Bob: UR GHEY UR GHEY UR GHEY UR GHEY UR GHEY UR-
Narrator: Call dropped.
Summary of this day?
02.12.09uhh.. yeah. it started with playing football in the dreaded monsoon, shooting people using a diy blowpipe in the second lesson, uhh, depressive twenty minutes of the day, then a break-time, shared with fourteen hundred communists, discussing anti-socialist lesson: french, nut-cracking lunch, uhh, a supply teacher who doesn’t know where he came from, dosent know how to teach, success i guess..
Gone
29.11.09Uhh yeah. I now live in a cardboard box. The landlord kicked me out of the house and I can only use it to store my stuff untill I find somewhere to put it. Here is a picture of the weather.
Ninja
27.11.09
My Desktop
26.11.09no computers, no iPhone, nothing. just the normal Pen and Paper. that is all. the end.
Edit:You probally realised that I added watermarks on. :)
Regarding Homework and Mothers
08.11.09wait, what’s this? your mother is so fat that her belly button has an echo? no wait, Your mothers breath is so stank we don’t know whether she needs tic tacs or toilet paper. thats right. No I’m joking. but still, I’m caught up with watching Yo mama on MTV whilst doing fucking annoying homework like what is the chemical formula for sucrose, which is C12H22O11 and the fucking amount of atoms which is 45. I also have this homework about getting your favorite poem or shit. I printed this poem from Leo Burnett, which is really famous, regarding that it is on the fucking McDonalds advert. still, I’m enjoying this rancid trash talking. oh, by the way, Yo momma’s so skinny she swallowed a meatball and thought she was pregnant.
