What a Cnut.

Because it's possibly the most insane thing I have ever seen. The guy behind it is named Jean-Yves Blondeau and, as you can tell from his name, he's French. But that doesn't mean we should hate him. Quite the opposite in fact. Good old Jean-Yves has invented something called Buggy Rollin , a thing that has to be seen to be believed.

It was late in the morning when I began making my way home. The night was cool and the air crisp as I popped my earphones in and hit the play button on my iPod. A soft tune began playing in my ears. Up ahead a figure lurched from left to right in the familiar way of one who is the worse for wear with drink or drugs, or both. As I drew level with the wobbly wanderer I heard him speak. His accent was heavily tinged with the familiar tones of the Polish. Strangely the word he had uttered was “Asda.” When the figure motioned towards me I pulled one of my earphones out and spoke. “Alright?” I asked. He spoke in very broken English and I realised he wasn’t one of the more fluent members of the Polish community. “Asda… Dancing… You know?” He said. I figured that he was attempting to get to the Corn Exchange, a concert venue adjacent to Asda. “Asda… Dancing… Girls…” He said, his breath smelling of booze. “This way?” He continued pointing towards where he thought Asda was. “No man…” I replied. ...

Please Leave the building by the nearest exit... Mind the step...

Hello Fucko , How goes it? All well and good I hope. If not; It's probably your fault for being a fucking layabout for the majority of your life. Does that sound harsh? If so, fuck ya, it's supposed to. I'm hoping that by the time you re-read this you've put yourself to some kind of good use and achieved something in your life. If not then you should be fucking ashamed. Perhaps I should have taken a little time to refresh your memory of what is happening in your life at the time you are writing this... You're currently single, unemployed and in a deep funk with regards to the state of the world. You're spending way too much time locked in your own little insular world. Your bed has become a refuge to hide from the world and you've got less direction in your life than a Satellite Navigation System that was won at a Gypsy fairground. You've been unemployed for almost a year following all that hoo - hah with the bowling club and you're struggling to...

I awoke this morning and put some music on while I pondered what to do with my day. There was a knock at the door. I opened it to find that it was Elvis, wearing a black jumpsuit almost identical to the one he wore at his comeback tour "You're Elvis." I said. "A huh huh." He replied. "But your dead." I said, with amazement in my voice. "A huh huh." He said again. "Then what are you doing here?" I asked. "I bring you a warning man, quick! Get a burger!" He said, pushing his way into the house. I followed him as he headed for the small cupboard at the end of my hallway. "What do we need a burger for?" I asked. "I've been dead a long time and there's no hamburger stands in heaven, something to do with cholesterol." he said, rooting around the cupboard."Where’s the Big Juggs special edition?" He asked lifting boxes and pulling them open. "Pardon?" I asked. "The ghost of the ...

Emitting from the cupboard at the end of the hall. I tried to open the door and realised that it was locked so I went to the kitchen and retrieved the key from the drawer. Slipping the key into the lock I discovered that there was some kind of force trying to prevent me opening the door. Whenever I tried to turn the key the force worked against me with a strength that caused me to think that there was something inside the cupboard that was as determined to keep me out as I was to get in. "What the fuck?" I thought. I went back into the kitchen and got my toolbox from the cupboard underneath the sink and carried it to the hall cupboard door. Popping open the toolbox I spotted what I needed, a pair of mole grips and a can of motorcycle chain lubricant. I removed the key from the lock and slid the small plastic tube applicator of the lubricant can into the lock and gave it a squirt. Sliding the key back into the lock and gripping it with the mole grips I used all my strength and...

Today I watched the strangest movie I've ever seen. Bad Boy Bubby . (Imdb link) If you are easily offended please, in the name of the Grand Whazoo, never watch this movie.

Ups and downs, highs and lows, ins and outs (if you're lucky) and peaks and troughs. I've been in a bit of a trough for the last month or so with my writing. And to be honest I've got no idea why. It's not as if I've sunk into some kind of depression (I can spot a depression induced slump a mile off.) so there really is no rational reason why my mind should choose to dry up quicker than moisturising cream on the face of a pensioner. Part of the blame may be attributable my dreams. Lately my dreams have been very "emotionally involving." For the past two weeks the lasting memory I have when I awake is of an old love saying "I can't come with you. That's not my world." Very strange if you ask me. But that's probably not a good idea. Asking me anything is always guaranteed to elicit a reply tha would make a lunatic consider a new life-path. Truthfully I have no idea what's causing it.

I awoke this morning to the sound of birds twittering in the early morning light. I scratched my balls, stretched my arms, rolled out of bed and took a look out the window to see what kind of day it was. The sun was rising over the top of the buildings behind mine and the low clouds looked like they would burn off soon enough. As I glanced downwards into my back garden I saw what seemed to be a giant bunny rabbit carrying a basket of chocolate eggs. I rubbed my eyes, fearing that I was still stoned from the massive hashish bender I had went on the previous night, and looked again. Sure enough there was a large white rabbit attempting to climb the fence leading from my garden into my neighbours garden. I pulled open the window and leaned out. "OI! Thumper, what the fuck do you think you're playing at?" I yelled. The rabbit looked up at me and doubled it's effort to scale the fence. (Not an easy job when you're a six foot bunny rabbit wearing a frilly bonnet and mat...

I awoke this morning at roughly 11am and found my mobile phone bleeping like Twiki from Buck Rogers having an orgasm. I opened the phone to find that I had three voicemail messages and five missed calls. I dialed my voicemail and discovered that my mum had left a message saying that she had had a dream that I had broken my leg while having a shower and was unable to get to the phone to call for help. The second message was on the same lines, as was the third. The only difference being that in the second message she was threatening to send my dad to the house to check up on me, and the third call was telling me that she was on her way over if she didn't hear from me in the next five minutes. I sent a text message to her mobile saying I was fine but it was too late. I looked out of my window and saw that my dads van was parked outside and heard a knock on my front door. I opened it to find my dad standing there with a world weary look on his face. "Alright Pops." I said. ...

That's what Amanda McLean is. I don't know if you heard about this one... A woman in Glasgow is convinced that the child that is growing inside her is some kind of miracle after she looked at an ultrasound of her unborn sprog and saw the face of Jesus . What I'd like to know is why is it whenever a strange image is captured seemingly bearing a resemblance to a human face it's always assumed to be that of Jesus? Perhaps it's not, perhaps it's the face of Ra, Ra, Rasputin, lover of the Russian Queen. There was a cat that really was gone. Should it turn out that The Mad Monk Rasputin has decided to return to this world to wreak havoc and carnage in Russia again I'd like to be the first to welcome him back. It's been awfully dull without him to liven things up... I'd also like to know if this phenomenom takes place in other cultures. For example if someone in the far east was to go for an ultrasound and there appeared to be an image of a podgy face do t...

There's something desperately wrong with the smoke detector I have in my house. Last night I was running a bath when the smoke detector began squealing, like a pig having a large cactus inserted into its arsehole, because the steam from the bath drifted along the hallway. This morning I almost set fire to the frying pan, while making my breakfast, filling the kitchen and hallway with acrid smoke and what did the smoke detector do? Not a goddamn thing. Should I be killed in a house fire please sue the living fuck out of whatever confederacy of dunces made the smoke detector.