Manmachine201's uneasy guide to 2010

On my way home this evening, I was feeling unusually tense, angered almost but not knowing why, the air was filled with excitement, happiness and hopefulness. Somehow far from drawing me in it made me feel further alienated, as if I was a 17 year old in a friends flat fucked on Marijuana for the first time while all my contemporaries laughed as I tried for about 25 minutes to work out what they were laughing at, whether they were laughing at me, whether my hands belonged to someone else and whether I could ever be in on the joke that everyone else seemed to get except me...

I was on the train as usual. My life seems to be mostly on trains, and when I'm not I dream of them, that they are taking me to a better place where we all laugh together. So, As I got off the train I heard a boisterous booming voice saying "Wheeeeeeey!"
I shuddered, hoping it wasn't aimed at me. again, "Wheeeeeeeeeeeeey!" This time every muscle in my body tensed up and the bile in my stomach rose as my fists clenched. The cry lasted longer this time, by about 3 seconds. I was determined not to turn around as I wanted to avoid confrontation, I am not as people friendly as I often pretend to be but I am not a huge fan of confrontation either. This time as the third yelp came, a hand touched my shoulder and I almost instinctively felt the need to turn and land a punch square on the jaw of the antagonist.

I turned to face the agressor only to find I was in my parents living room and it was actually my gran, drunk on vinager and scotch (her favourite tipple) encouraging me to feel festive.



Vinagar, scotch and a massive bong.

Now of course, none of this happened. My gran died years ago when her arse exploded, as both of you might remember. But it all illustrates the point that New Years eve is not fun... what other time of year would make you fantasize over smashing your own dead gran in the face?



She did wear strange makeup.

So what do we have to look forward to in 2010? The cutty sark relaunches, which will be nice. Obviously it wont be used for what it was originally designed to do. Whcih was to get Tea from China in the quickest possible time... So thats goint to be an ultimately pointless venture. I'm all for burning it down again on the day they unveil it.



HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Half of you don't even know what the cutty sark is, you fools!

Actually I'm sorry for typing that. One of my new years resoltions is to not alienate either of the people who read this...

So onto resolutions. Many people choose the new year to change the way they live in the form of a resolution. "eat healthier, excercise more and save for an apple mac", "Quiting bad habits and gathering more money", etc... most of the time people give up on their resolutions by jan 2nd. Which is fair enough, most of them are just rubbish anyway.

But some are heartwarming, such as this one... "I resolve never to fantasize about hitting my dead gran in the face anymore."

How sweet.







Happy new year fuck buckets.

Manmachine201 on why Iran is no laughing matter

I was on the tail end of a nightshift the other day when in between trains, I was suddenly caught short and needed a shit. The seven cups of coffee I had during the night had turned on me, once upon a time they were my friend and appeared to support me through a troubling time suddenly and suddenly, they turned on me... and I thought to myself, "This is a lot like the situation in Iran at the moment". After all The Coffee was the Iranian people who initially supported the revolution in Iran but have recently turned on the Government.

I didn't really have have time to process my thoughts because I needed a shit so badly, so between Tower Hill and Tower Gateway stations was the conveniently placed Tower of London. A place of great interest as it is a building with a history as violent as it is rich.



The Tower itself was a palace, a prison and scene to some of the bloodiest trials and executions in English history, as well as a home to the ravens to which the legend was born that if they ever flew away, the tower would fall down. (They combated this by clipping their wings, ensuring that the tower will not fall down.)

But I digress as I didn't have time to process my thoughts needing to poo so much, I found a public toilet in the area. When I found the nearest conveniences I walked in hurridly and planted my arse in the bowl... at this point an alarm started going off warning that there was a fire in the building and it needed to be evacuated. I shat a watery brown poo as one would after too much coffee. I wanted to wipe myself but noticed that the toilet paper was on fire. Again, I thought "this is a lot like the situation in Iran at the moment". The Iranian Government was wiped its arse on the people for years only for the people to rise up in figurative flames at a time when they needed them most to support them in their struggle against the west. I almost felt sympathetic to the clerics who rule Iran with an iron fist.



all burnt out.

Having joined Twitter recently I wasn't quite sure I understood what all the fuss was about. Just a lot of people jabbering on about their lives in 140 characters of less... Things like 'Jst tk a sht bt ppr on fire' are commonplace in the microblogosphere. But recently I found that many of the Iranian protesters are using Twitter as a form of propaganda tool in the same way the Cuban Revolutionaries of the 50s used shortwave radio. Suddenly I was interested.

Then I found Russell Brand tweeting about his penis, which watered down my interest somewhat.



His Dinkle.

However, you can't be put off by the discusting thing on a website, or you'd never use the internet again... So onwards and upwards. I found out that twitter is good as long as you follow people who have something important to say. The dissenting voices, not Steven Fry who says "isn't @jimmyjimjimmyjimjimjim01 delightful?" which I'm sure he is.

So while examining Russell Brands Genital warts, via the internet, I thought his situation reminds me a lot of the situation in Iran, where the Clerical government trys to make a stand against external influence whilst being attacked from the inside itself.

So, in my experience, being caught short needing a shit, then finding that toilet paper is on fire and also on a seperate note Genital conditions are no laughing matter, then neither is the situation in Iran.

I won't bore you with the human rights abuses, the fact that The current Iranian dictatorship is a huge threat to us in terms of state funded terrorism, the threat of the bomb, etc etc... lets give the democratic movement some moral support.



Support democracy in Iran.

http://twitter.com/SaloumehZ

http://twitter.com/iran88

http://twitter.com/iamiranorg

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Green_Movement

Manmachine201 ملتو یکی شما خر فرض کردید یکی آخوندا. لعنت به جفتتون حرومزاده ها

Recently it came to the attention of all my friends and family that I had been hacked by pro Iranian hackers. It was a tense day, people were coming up to me giving me such hideous looks. I looked in the mirror and realized that it was because whenever people looked at me, they saw this.



Whenever I tried to speak there were just a load of stupid arabic squiggles that didn't make any sense. My conversations with people were just jumbled mistranslated mumblings about how Iran deserved the right to enrich uranium and snapping "Fuck BUSh!" even though he isn't the president anymore.

Ironically, the words Iranian and Uranium sound really similar and it is for that reason that I think that Iran should be able to have a nucluar programme. It's as good a reason as any of the many reasons for Iran not having a nucluar programme. The possiblity of the anihalation of Israel, and another nucleur superpower with an unstable government pale into insignificance of two words which sound slightly similar. It's a bit like Arsene Wenger managing the Arsenal football club.



Its funny that his name is Arsene, and that his club is Arsenal. Its like the Queen managing Queens Park Rangers, or Chelsea Clinton managing Chelsea.

As if that wasn't bad enough, I later found out that mark Ronson had done a cover of me. There was a version of me wandering the streets not speaking but just making trumpet sounds. This was turning into a bad day.

The only thing that cheered me up was whenever I looked in the mirror at the hackers loose grasp on English, because there is nothing funnier to an english person than a poor grasp of the english language... except for only fools & Horses. I went on a website criticizing the Iranian Government. Obviously, some Iranians were Angered. One even responded with one of the most venomous attacks ever performed on the internet. He said "ملتو یکی شما خر فرض کردید یکی آخوندا. لعنت به جفتتون حرومزاده ها" but no one understood it because it seemed to be several seemingly random squiggles and dots so it mostly went unnoticed, but I can exclusively reveal that translated, it says "Don't stimulation the Iranian peoples".



Angry mobs but mostly harmless because we can't understand anything they are saying.

Manmachine201's uneasy guide to the noughties.

I was sitting alone in my bedsit crying because my life hasn't evolved the other day when I chanced across an Arthur C Clarke novel. Clarke was a legend in Sri Lanka, a place where he made his home. He probably wasn't a paedophile although rumours have circulated, mainly because I started them several years ago just after he died. His most famous book was 2001 a space Odyssey. The term Odyssey echoes the homeric epic the Odyssey, which centres on Odysseus and his journey home after the Trojan wars and his tangles with the greek gods on route.



Odysseus was often dipicted on plates and bowls in ancient athens... much like the tragic Princess Diana is today.




This is an apt time to be talking about the Olympian gods because according to adverts on TV they used to hold lavish parties on Mount Olympus and would often feed each other an ancient delacasy made of chocolate and possibly sawdust. This food of the gods is known as Ferero Rocher.



Greek gods feeding on Rocher.

Throughout the 80's rocher was known as something which ambassadors would get out at their lavish parties in erm, ambassador houses, but recently it was decided by an ad agency that an ambassador wasn't grand enough and that it needed to be grander. The Pope, Chris Eubank and the President of the United States were all considered but the pope refused to be in an advert for religious reasons and Eubank and the President were found to be black and therefore would probably alienate much of the demographic they were trying attract as well as being not classy enough... So Greek gods it is then.



Ironically they were Princess Diana's favourite chocolate and James Hewitt used them to seduce her, as did Prince Charles, Bryan Adams and Will Carling. All of these people did so in the 90's.



The 90s was an interesting decade which transpired just before the noughties, which end next week. (All this from crying and wanking whilst spotting the sequal to 2001 Space Odyssey on my book shelf... I was crying partly because 2010 isn't as good as 2001, and also because princess Diana died, because after all these years, I still find it very sad.)



:(

Diana's death was a major event that finished off the 90s. possibly a few years too early as Diana died in 1997 and the 90s didn't finish for a further 2 years 2 months.

However, the following decade brought with it, its own major events and drastically changed the world. The English footballer Gazza Lineker scored a phenominal goal against scotland in... erm Euro 96.



Or was that the 90's?

The Berlin Wall came down effectively ending a standoff between 2 major superpowers which had lasted since the end of the second world war.



hang on... that might have been the 90's too.

And of course, the death of princess Diana. Which caused the year 2000 to start 3 years early.

So none of those things seem to have occured in the noughties although I wish that it did because it would make a lot more sense to me. The fact is, I can barely remember any event that occured in the last decade which has had any effect on our lives...

In fact literally the only thing I can think of is the actress Britanny Murphy dying, partly because it reminded me of the tragic death of Princess Diana (they were alike in so many ways.) and because it is the most recent event that occured which is in the papers.



:(

So yeah, probably something to do with a decade of bingeing and decadance and debortuary, I can't remember a single thing about the noughties, if I tried to name my 3 favourite albums of that decade, I'd end up citing My Bloody Valentine's Loveless, Radiohead's Ok Computer, and probably the Band on the Run by Wings, thats how fucked my brain is. You know why? Fucking Ferero Rocher! It's fine for the greek gods to gouge themselves on these chocolates but mere mortals brains melt if they eat more than 3 (the reason why the smallest packs of rocher you can buy are in a 3 pack and the larger packs are supposed to be shared...) So I guess I'll just hope my brain recovers by the year 2020 so that I can come up with a suitable eulogy for the noughties.

The End.



How did that picture get there?

Manmachine201's uneasy guide to managing stress

The other week when I was in Kabul fighting against Al-Quaida insurgents I and a small group of soldiers ended up in a fire fight against fundamentalists. I was covered by an SUV coming under heavy gunfire and had to call for air support, 2 of my compatriots were shot and killed. My first thought was who gave these middle eastern types guns? when I watched Indiana Jones as a child they only had swords, and if they had swords I could just blow their heads clean off. My second thought was that this is a pretty stressful situation. My second thought, was 'this is a pretty stressful situation to be in'.



The above is the face I would have been pulling, had I not been in a life or death situation being fired upon by arabs.

The situation itself, was grave, but reminded me of an even more stressful situation when I was younger having been locked in a basement by father and grandfather Josef Fritzl and I had to watch my father and grandfather rape my sister and mum every night for most of my youth. The whole thing was very stressful.



On a side note, I took this picture to my hairdresser recently and asked that he do my hair just like the man above... why am I barred from my local hairdresser now?

Watching my mother and sister getting raped by my dad and grandfather was a stressful situation but it reminded me of an even more stressful situation a few years earlier. I was in a car with my husband who was the president of the United States of America in an open top motorcade going through texas when suddenly my husband John's brains were all over my lap.



back and to the left.

The whole situation was very stressful. But that situation reminded me of a few years before when I was dictator of the third reich. At the start when I ordered the invasion of poland, france and lots of other countries too numerous to list, it was going okay. Towards the end the whole situation had changed and I was inside a bunker underground, with a door 100 yards to the left were Allied troops and to the right were the Bolshevics. That was pretty stressful.



Stresssssssssssssssssssed!

There are many ways of managing stress. Taking a deep breath, counting to 10, just giving yourself 10 minutes to get your head together, but ultimately you're not really stressed you're just weak.

So next time you're feeling stressed at work remember its all relative to what is actually going on around you, its not real and its certainly not going to get you off work, particularly if you are the President of the United States. or one of Josef Fritzl's progeny, or Hitler. They never got signed off work with stress. Twats.

Manmachine201's uneasy guide to flight safety.

I have always been very interested in science, occaisionally in pseudo science but more often I am interested in things that are not very scientific at all. Like photosynthysis, or maths.



Even the name manmachine201 indicates as much. There is Man, which isn't very scientific, machine-which is- and 201 which indicates that, as a number you would assume that a certain level of maths had to occur to simply to get to it. (It wasn't in fact I hate maths.)

In fact whenever I am on a plane I sit there looking at the screen telling me the altitude, the speed at which it is flying and I think "If a plane has travelled 1145 miles in 8 hours and has 1145 miles to go and has a constant speed of 545 miles an hour ..." then the screen changes and tells me how long until the destination. A total of 3 minutes of working out a mathematical problem, wasted. The next game on a plane I like playing is 'guess which passenger is most likely to be a terrorist'. The game itself has only been around for about 10 years but has proved so popular that it has led to several arrests.



Am I bovvered?

Planes by their very nature are viewed by flatlanders such as myself to be the work of Satan. Nothing over 5lbs should be able to lift off the ground, let alone cruise at an altitude of 75000 ft. Christmas puddings can't fly, cats can't fly and even flys aren't very good at flying, although they weigh so little that when you put one on a weighing scale it wouldn't even register. But a plane weighs tuns and tuns, so shouldn't be able to fly.



The Fly

FOOL! I hear you cry, flying is a simple matter of physics. That may be the case but try telling me that the wright brothers were not possessed by some kind of demonic creature and that the first man flight was not more to do with witchcraft than physics. After all, physics wasn't invented at that point, it was a simpler time. You could leave the front door open back then and not worry about getting robbed... doors were not even invented at that point. The first door wasn't even on a house but on a plane.



Freddie Mercury showing us how to use plane emergency exits.

Next up came the band 'The Doors' whose lead singer got so fat he had to move to paris, then died jerking off in a bath.

After Morrisons death everyone got doors installed in the front and backs of their houses in some kind of twisted tribute. A key thing that annoys me about the elderly is that they always talk about how it used to be safe to leave your door open without worrying about being raped bummed buggered fucked and robbed and basterdised. Then they complain about not being able to afford heating bills. This is because they leave the door open letting out all the heat. the idiots. Then again the elderly are not really known for their rationality. My gran once shat in her shoe mistaking it for a toilet, once we cleared it up she shat in the other shoe because she thought she was a naughty puppy. Fortunately we don't have to worry about shit in our shoes anymore because my gran died of a ruptured bowel.

So thats the bit about doors done.

This piece has bent so far out of shape but I think it was simply to try to distance myself from the fact that my name is lazily stolen from a kraftwerk album title with a random number at the end to make my online persona more googlable. Maybe it is because on some level the idea of German electronica, the themes of industrialism, the relationship between man and machine, resonate with me. Or maybe I just want to seem poncey and clever when actually I've just copy pasted a load of garble from a Phillip K Dick novel...

Hang on, that wasn't it. I was talking about Freddie Mercury opening an emergency door on a plane, what a fucking maniac, he's going to kill us all. We should have seen it coming, he is of Iranian origin. I looked for some other instructional pictures to see if they resemble anyone.



Sigourney Weaver circa Alien 3 showing us how to dry our faces with a hand dryer.



Art Garfunkel with a seat belt on.

And even Cate Blanchett donning an oxygen mask.



If life was a big safety card I'd just be sitting here in front of a computer with a blank expression on my face looking like I was typing something, while you were sitting on a plane. but unfortunately this is real life. you are not on a plane and you have to read the result of real life occuring.

It's all getting totally out of hand, I wasn't sure if I had an idea to begin with but just needed to channel some thoughts and look what happened. My mind sicked up all over the internet. I'm just like my dead gran shitting in a pair of my shoes.

Manmachine201's uneasy guide to the gods, x-factor & a massive shit.

I know what you are both thinking, 7 blogs on the trot followed by 5 empty and updateless days. I am only one man, totally devoid of anything interesting to fuel me over the past few days apart from the haunting vision of what must have been 10 million people decending on me because I had the wrong kind of shirt, begging me to help them like I was some kind of diety and berrating me when I couldn't deliver their expectations. It made me think, this must be what it is like to be (a) G(g)od.

Man has had a strange relationship with the gods in the past but the thing that I want to start with is the difference between capitalization of the judeo christain version of God who most certainly does have a capital G



capital G

...and gods from other more inferior religions like Buddhist, Hindi, Jahova and chinese dont put a capital letter on their gods. Probably because they haven't been educated properly...if they would then they might even grasp the concept of only one god, a bit like the highlander.

That in itself would probably make a great beat em up computer game pitting buddha against Ganeeha over the course of a best of 3 fight to the death while pressing things like down down up soft punch hard kick to make buddha do 3 back flips before grabbing ganesh by his trunk, twisting him round 3 times before throwing him into the far corner of a screen then jumping on his ribs.



Buddha wins.

It is a lovely thought but unfortunately I pay such little attention to computer games that this game may have already come out and people could have talked to me really enthusiastically about this game and I simply smiled and nodded and gone through the motions of pretending to listen while simply picking out the next moment to go to the toilet to have a massive shit. and a wank.



That one in the background looks like he might be a god.

So it looks like I'll have to put up with Olly pitting his wits against Joe in tonights X-Factor final in a clash that is the closest to Gods fighting as I am going to get today (note that X-Factor deserves capitalisation in our society and polytheistic gods still only get a lowercase g.)

Whoever wins tonights X-Factor final is largely irrelevant because the winner of the 2 will ultimately go on to be the christmas number one with a Miley Cyrus song, whichever way the vote goes.

I don't normaly like to go on about my life too much in these scrawlings because there are more interesting things going on, but the strangest thing happened to me to stop me from blogging over the past few days which I think you both deserve to know about.

I was sat at home trying to get my internet connection to work, (it has been eratic over the past few days) when I decided to do some DIY on my dongle (!) Whilst pulling apart this small implement trying to identify the source of the problem, I was distracted by a loose screw on my front door which had been causing it to have problems shutting. I figured that while I had the screwdriver out I might as well fix the door, so I unscrewed the loose screw in the door with the intention of replacing it. The door was off its hinges and the dongle was in pieces on the floor. It was at this point that I noticed that there was a loose screw on the outside of my flat, I thought that while I had my screwdriver out it might be the best time to fix that problem... anyway, this went on for a few hours and at the end of those said hours, I had unscrewed every screw on the planet. Everything was in pieces on the ground, which in turn was in pieces because I had unscrewed that as well.

Half of the people on the planet seemed to not mind and embrace the fact that everything they ever knew had been deconstructed piece by piece. The other half were fucking furious.



I feel like science has performed a similar function to my screwdriver by deconstructing and debunking myths and legends over the past 500 years, when Galileo first noticed that one of the screws were loose, realizing that the sun didn't revolve around the earth and the world probably wasn't flat.



From then on, the basic belief that the universe was kept in order by some kind of god was challenged at every turn, to the point where even the historical accuracy of the bible was called into question.

The only actual problem is that Science hasn't offered us a reasonable alternative to religion in terms of the human beings sense of purpous. What are we here for? Are we trapped inside a matrix? Are we being made to believe that God doesn't exist as a form of trickery to trap our souls into eternal damnation? to be honest who the fuck cares? the X-Factor final is on in just over an hour and I get to see the closest thing to a clash between Gods as I am going to get all week.



the Final Judgement.

Manmachine201 fights fire with fire.

There are some phrases which I dont think sit well with modern society. "people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones". Why not? Why would someone be inside a house made of glass? surely its far more practical to have a house made of Bricks & mortar. after all anyone could see you whenever you wanted a crafty tug or even just to take a shit in the bathroom which is made totally of glass. In general their could be worse things to be made of glass than a house, although I personally wouldn't want to live in a glass house.



The Blondie song Heart of glass was written after Debborah Harry chanced across a newspaper artical about a woman awaiting a heart transplant. When she was admitted to hospital she was accidentally fitted with a greenhouse instead of a heart and as if that wasn't bad enough there was a man inside the greenhouse throwing stones. This is a key point as to why you shouldn't throw stones inside a glass house.




A few years ago, I used to deep fry chips in my own kitchen because of a mental illness which left me thinking I worked in a kebab shop. It was not uncommon for me to ask people if they wanted chilli sauce with things and put mayonaise on newspapers, into envelopes and on peoples cars even though they never asked me to. This culminated in a chip pan fire in my kitchen, to make matters worse I was only 7 years old and didn't have the key skills in aggressive firefighting, so thinking quickly on my feet, I grabbed a book of sayings and proverbs, because with the help of the wisdom of people past I felt that I would be more than a match for the fire. So I found the proverbs relating to fires...



No smoke without fire, but occaisionally choirboys with glowing eyes.

Fire is never a gentle master was the next phrase I came across, which was interesting but at the same time my kitchen was burning down and I'd used up all my chilli sauce and mayonaise trying to extinguish the flames. On to the next one.

Fire and gunpowder do not sleep together. Again, nice but time was pressing and the flames had reached the curtains and were beginning to engulf the entire wall.



Fuck! I told myself whilst looking for a jalapino pepper and some tomatos to throw at the fire in a last ditch attempt to extinguish it...after all it would only end up on the pavement like any other salad that goes into a kebab at 11.30 pm on a saturday night. How many more phrases involve fire?

Fight fire with fire. http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/fight-fire-with-fire.html

Thats it, there it is! The only surefire way (no pun intended) to put out a chip pan fire is to set it on fire.

When under attack, one must use more extreme methods to fight off the attack, and what is more extreme than fighting fire with fire? It failed and I died.



Did I mention I was in a band?

Fortunately I was reincarnated as a person with an internet connection so I was able to blog about it some years later.

These days whenever I encounter a chip fat fire, I simly cover the flame with a damp cloth to starve the fire of oxygen, which is a method I learned in a fire training exercise. The crux of this training is that fire needs 3 things to thrive. fuel, oxygen & heat.



Heat is a magazine that provides us with a weekly guide to fat celebrities followed by a guide to skinny celebs the following week. You'd think that this wasn't a key factor in the cause of fires but whenever I accidentally pick up this magazine I end up setting myself on fire because I find the pain of 3rd degree burns to be a welcome distraction from the tripe that infiltrates my cerebral cortex whenever I read this magazine.

Key information you learn from this journal is that Lindsay Lohan is mad. Britney Spears is mad, and that Dermot O'leary was spotted shopping for socks in Primark in Bond Street last wednesday. Why do people care? probably because it is a welcome distraction for people who have an otherwise empty life. And to be fair it is probably more useful to know these things than it is to know old proverbs and phrases off by heart.

Although some phrases still remain useful to this day.

"Don't put your hands in the oven, or you will end up with cooked hands."

"Don't travel on public transport at the weekend unless you really have to because most of the london underground tends to engage in essential maintinence work during this time."

Travelling on the London Underground can be a struggle at the best of times. Humans become different creatures altogether when they encounter a train journey, a fight for the empty seat, the body odour, the one playing their MP3 player too loudly listening to 'sounds of the underground' by girls aloud. It is however nice to see someone pressing the pointless 'open' button when a train stops in front of them so you can think to yourself 'twat'.



Occaisionally you'll curse because someone stands to the left on an esculator and not on the right, not because they want your journey to take that little bit longer, but because they don't know the rules. Not reading the signs because they are going through a traumatic experience which they probably pay about £1200 a year to do because they have no other option.

That sounds like the actions of the meak, and according to the proverb book I used to fight my first chip pan fire. 'The meak shall inherit the earth.'

MANMACHINE201'S uneasy guide to using the capslock, gillete, tiger woods and tomorrow.

I have often thought that Gillette is the best a man can get, so it became cemented in my head when they started using it as an advertising slogan some years later. There have been many battles with rival brand Wilkinson Sword to establish dominance in the razor industry. Bic obviously started it all with the disposable razor. Wilkinson followed up with the disposable blade leaving the handle to avoid unnecassary waste. Beyond this came the 3 blade combo from Gillette, those french sure know how to shave, in spite of their stereotypical image of being men with stubble...



have a fucking shave mate... and is that a biro in your hand?

Wilkinson sword had an ace in the hole with the 3 disposable blades with the "closest shave ever." Bic had left the race by this point and started making dispoable pens which seem to dissappear in spite of being paid for 50 at a time. In previous blogs I have mentioned the possibility of black holes on earth, but wont delve into where I think these biro's go because of obvious sidetracking issues and covering familiar ground, you would think Gillette would have left the race too. But they went far beyond and added an extra blade for "a closer shave and more comfort."

As if this wasn't enough they went on to add an extra 2 blades, for acloser shave and more comfort as well as the 5th freeroling blade for added accuracy. And accuracy in an important tool in the modern day. Just ask the Israeli government, who have taken accuracy to a new level by creating missiles that can blow up a disabled Palestinian midget from 10 miles away.



and fair play.

But again there is somthing trying to take me away from the point. A gravity if you will, but I hate gravity. It keeps me routed to the spot when I want to fly to planets made of shaving products, so I will, at least in a metaphorical sense of the words 'planets made of shaving products'.

So after using 5 blades to bring about the ultimate revolution in shaving... I knew that nothing and I mean absolutely nothing that could top a 6 bladed disposable razor. I initially thought that there was nothing that could beat a disposable blade until I saw a razor with 2 blades, a similar thing happened when I saw 3 blades on a shaver adding an extra dimension to shaving. 4 blades? amazing nothing could improve on this. then they come along with 5 razors and a 6th razor for accuracy. I am absolutely certain, beyond any certainty I could ever have that we have reached the pinnacle of shaving. and nothing, and I mean nothing can improve this.



the absolute pinnacle of shaving.

As Gillette are now at the forefront of shaving they have hired 3 of the best sportsman who are as at the top of their game as Gillette are.



Federer is an amazing tennis player, I have got into tennis in a big way this year and think that is the most interesting it has ever been. Henry was an amazing footballer at Arsenal and I'm sure he is really good now at Barcelona. Woods is the least interesting of the bunch in terms of sporting ability. Standing with a stick in a field trying to get a testicle sized ball into a hole, my idea of a sportsman is not.

However, Woods is still an obvious ambassador for his game even if the game is as bland and fucking inane as golf.

Woods was recently involved in a car accident where he was in a sportscar with a woman he wasn't married to. His wife was obviously displeased. Another day goes by and another woman claims to have slept with him in tabloid papers, a further day, another woman in the same papers. and again the following day etc... it gets to the point where if Tiger woods lives another 14600 days there will be another 14600 women coming forward and admitting to sleeping with him, which is more than the amount of women Russell Brand has slept with...



I'd like to come forward and be the first person to admit that I've never been fucked by Tiger Woods, although there is still time.

Wood's defence has been to ask that his sins remain private. Here is a list of how to avoid sins courtesy of God. according to Exodus, not the Bob Marley album, but the book (not chapter) of international best seller, 'the Bible'.


You shall have no other Gods but me.
You shall not make for yourself any idol, nor bow down to it or worship it.
You shall not misuse the name of the Lord your God.
You shall remember and keep the Sabbath day holy.
Respect your father and mother.
You must not kill.
You must not commit adultery. (!)
You must not steal.
You must not give false evidence against your neighbour.
You must not be envious of your neighbour's goods. You shall not be envious of his house nor his wife, nor anything that belongs to your neighbour.

As sins go it is not the worst of them...

Although I feel that Woods is trying to accomplish something far darker...



The golfing world is a multi million pounds industry. And woods cannot monopolize it alone, he is already at the pinnacle of his game. He has nowhere to go but down. He will age and lose his ability to compete with young golfers who will be aiming to knock him off his perch. So what would you do in this situation?

Ensure that your genetic legacy corners the market no doubt. Tiger's genes are amazing and a combination of hard work, skill and luck have combined to create the ultimate golfer in the world. The only way to leave a lasting legacy is to ensure that your children and your childrens children have as much chance at success as you... and I put it to you all that this is the reason that Tiger Woods has had sex with so many women, so that one day hundreds of thousands of people will be amazing mixed breed golfers.



fuck you, this space is reserved for Mr Woods.

So Perhaps Gillette, who are also at the pinnacle of their particular thing, should also consider fucking every model, actress and generally atractive female in sight in order to secure their future place in society. Perhaps they could even come up with something even more revolutionary than 6 blades on a shaver... although I couldn't for the life of me imagine what that could possibly be, or look like...