@manmachine201 has no mentions.

The new Mercedes advert states that 'You can't fit 120 years of innovation into a commercial' Personally, If I were the person who paid for the advert I'd have refused to pay the advert makers for their defeatist attitude. It was a tactic that Henry VIII employed to ensure that he got the best possible painting from an artist who he felt made his previous painting look too frail.



This was the result, no doubt a work of art.

Now, on Sean Kingstons Twitter page Sean Describes himself as a "21 year old living work of art."



What you talkin 'bout Willis?

Like we all remember where we were on September 11th or when John Lennon was killed by an American, No one will forget where they were when they heard the news that Sean Kingston was in a critical condition in hospital after a jetski accident... Because they were all on twitter tweeting about it.

Even the Arab Spring Tweeters stopped harping on about democracy to wish Sean Kingston a happy birthday, because they have a loose grasp of english due to the fact that they learned the language in a branch of Clinton Cards in Damascus.



Police indicate that there is evidence that Kingston's accedent could have been an attempted suicide, after examining the lyrics to his hit 'Beautiful girl' they found that some of the words revealed that he was "suicidal, suicidal".



In many respects Sean Kingston's accident draws many paralels to the myth of Phaethon in that Kingston tried to use machinary he was incapable of controlling, with disasterour consequences, I know what you're thinking, that my continual allusions to Greek Mythology are tiring and I should probably stop using them as they are not relevant to modern society. So I promise not to do it again.

As if this wasn't enough greif on the family of Kinston, keeping vigil by his bedside in the hope that he recovers. His record company were already planning reissueing his album with the bonus track 'leaving on a jet ski'.




Twitter is awash with wellwishers wishing well of Kingston, people on twitter are also talking about Britains Got Talent, they're talking about Eastenders, they're talking about Panorama.

When this platform the great voice of the disenfranchised ouster of professional footballers private lives, the liberator of the arabs, the reason that the # key ever gets used (what the fuck was it for before twitter existed?) for some reason it used to be on phones even before we knew what it was for, but anyway. Twitter is just a billion people using a billion keywords of 140 characters or less. It just seems like a competition to me.



Steven Fry can harp on about it all he wants. Piers Morgan and Alan Sugar can insult each other in 140 characters or less for the next 6 months. Charlie Sheen can just type "Winner, Winner, Winner, Winner" over and over again, I will still not get it, what the fuck is wrong with me?

I have to add it to a list featuring Lady Gaga, JLS, Fairport Convention, Flying Lotus, Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, KFC Krushems, Cats, David Cameron, Christianity and Golf as Things I don't get.

Yet every day the papers are drawn to twitter like a bluebottle to a cowpat, peoples tweets about news stories are slowly becoming the stories centrepieces, instant analysis and a gage for public opinion, yet looking at it now in the UK most of the people are still talking about britains got talent, its like walking into a room halfway through a conversation about Britains got Talent, but its not just a room full of people, its a room with about 1.2 million people all talking at the same time about britains got talent, repeating what the one next to them is saying seconds after, not listening to what anyone else has to say about it. It is a fucking massive massive insane asylum.

The reaction I got for mentioning Sean Kingston on twitter earlier was crazy. People were threatening to kill me, people were throwing hash tags at me, someone was so angry that they went over the 140 characters saying

"...I'm gonna fuckin find you, you fuckin fu"

Then the stream of abuse just ended,

Of course I'm lying, because 1.2 million other people were all typing stupid shit about Sean Kingston as well yesterday, I was just part of a massive stream of sick gallows humour at the expense of a man who went too far with a jet ski.



The Story of Sean Kingston is in many respects similar to the story of Icarus, the boy who flew too close to the Sun. This is a story which is often told in the same way the Phaethon story is told to warn people not to take on heroic challenges if they can't pull them off. I shall use this allusion to break a promise I made earlier in the blog.

The problem with Twitter is not just the fact that I simply cant get my point across with such a small amount of words, That I feel there is something slightly orwellian about this nuspeak which reduces the almost infinite possibilities of communication reducing sentences to "RU fick or summat?" instead of "Are you a fucking spastic you silly cunt?"

That the door that is safely closed with facebook is left slightly ajar with twitter, Recently I responded to a tweet from comedian Richard Herring, an intelligent and funny guy who I have a lot of repect and admiration for, I often try to banter with people I like on Twitter, rarely with any success. On this particular occasion Herring was talking about a trailor for the TV show Miranda, which I am sure you will agree is a heap of shit. I thought I had a hint of sarcasm from him and went with the sarcastic 'Oh yeah, Miranda was really good' thing and he basically called me a cunt.



Well Fuck you Richard Herring, I dont need to grow a hitler moustache to use as a cheap visual gag which I would cleverly use as a centrepiece for a 2 hour comedy show, I just do dick jokes in between making allusions to Greek Mythology. Just because I didn't find a clip of Miranda Hart falling over funny, it doesn't mean I don't have a Heart or a Soul. I always thought Stewart Lee (the other half of comedy act Lee and Herring) was funnier, cooler and edgier than you anyway! And when he met me he was nice to me as well.



Not to be confused with Terry Christianson

And Twitter can fuck off too I dont care if it frees the Arabs a million times over or gives the chinese a voice, to me its always going to be a million comments about britains got talent.

And as for Sean Kingston... I hope he recovers, I've got nothing against him.

There, I've said it, and no doubt when I post it on twitter there will be 5 million people saying the same thing.

Manmachine201 on belief.

I have until recently been subject of a Superinjunction preventing me from existing on the internet, as I was mistaken for 'details of an affair between a married premiership footballer and former big brother former Big Brother contestant Imogen Thomas.'



If I were a crude man I'd say something like "That lollypop and Ryan Gigg's Barbed cat penis, have something in common." but I'm a gentleman.

I could not even protest my innocence as by doing so I would have been breaking a superinjunction and therefore breaking the law, and since kidnapping missing todler Madeline McCann, I've been trying to keep a low profile.

You may or may not believe the things I've said but all of this only goes to nail home the point I had initially indended on making before revealing the fact that I was mistaken for a newspaper headline, and that I make jokes about abducting and possibly raping and killing toddlers, and that is that belief is a subjective thing.



For example if you were to ask Moses if he believed that "I can't believe its not butter is made from butter is made from Butter, he would say "yes, because the packaging on the front tells me so."



If you asked evolution scientist and commited atheist Richard Dawkins whether he believed I can't believe its not butter was not butter, he would probably say, the evidence from the packaging that it is not butter but a butterlike spread made from buttermilk." but that is exactly the kind of comment that one has grown to expect from a man who is followed everywhere he goes by a (bakers) dozen floating swastikas.

Initially I found the swastikas tasteless but after some further research I discovered that the swastikas are a result of an illness where because he says he doesn't believe god exists, people who don't like his opinion photoshop swastika's on his pictures and post them online for people like me to hotlink and work in to a blog about belief in order to further delay the actual point that has bothered me recently about belief. Of course, Nazism, the philosophy that lies behind the symbolism of the swastika has a very definate set of beliefs attached to them, which I have talked about to death and am only mentioning to further delay the point I want to make to do with belief.



Leaving aside any issues of whether God or a multiple amount of gods exist or not, there has been a lot of talk about the Rapture recently.



Great track, shit vinyl sleeve, perjaps they were talking about a different rapture.



Great track, equally shit album cover...

It seems that any mention or representation of rapture on an album cover is going to be shit...



Okay, so I quite like the cover of this one, its pretty simple, and it helps that its a cracking piece of prog rock...

All of these depictions and abstract thoughts on the end of the world were due to come into fruition on May 21st according to Harold Camping, former Engineer turned evangelist, the man had raised millions and ploughed it into TV, billboard advertising radio stations and internet type stuff. He amassed thousands of followers who prompty sold their posessions and prepared for their ascent.



It was no doubt going to look like this.

It is easy to laugh, there have been many comments from journalists and comedians all making fun at the expense of newly bankrupted people who mistakenly believed that the mathematical equasions Camping had equated.

Newspaper headlines have been as diverse as "Apocalypse Not Now"- Africa Today and "Not the End of the World"- Daily Mail (that one was shit), and Frankie Boyle cut off the head of a christian child and fucked its eye socket in front of a laughing crowd at a recent gig in Milton Keynes for a joke.

There is obviously a large group of people who made a mistake. People who are now bankrupt after giving up all their worthy posesions in the mistaken belief that they would stand a better chance of getting them to heaven, who knows, maybe it will, God certainly likes to test people according to the book of Job. Even if we dont believe in all that god stuff, we shouldn't really laugh at these people, would we have laughed at the children of the doomsday cult that were burnt to death in the compound of Waco in Texas all those years ago?



HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! look at the stupid Christians burning they think they're going to heaven well they're not, because there probably isn't a heaven, this was their only chance and they've fucked it!!

Initially I started writing that as if I was someone else who thought the Waco massacre was funny, but as I typed it I came to realize that there is a certain irony in it after all, so what if there were children in there, they would have mostly grown up to be wonky eyed hick jesus freaks anyway, so fuck em.



The sooner God comes down to take this one away the better.

I started this with the intention of chastising smug aethists who have revelled far too much in an event which has metaphorically ended the world of the people who put their trust and faith in Camping. But the more I write the more I think I don't actually care either way, which mirrors where I stand on the belief scale. so there.

Several reasons why all music should be banned.(RIP Cleo)

MC Hammer once stated that- when music hits him, so hard it makes him say "Oh My Lord!" thank you, for blessing him with a mind that rhymes and lots of other things.



This picture was stolen from a blog which literally just says "Do you remember MC Hammer? what was that all about?" in a dozen different ways. Yes, I've hotlinked it, stealing his bandwidth, because the person who wrote that blog was an anus. Probably still is unless they caught eye cancer from staring too hard at the 80s and died when bursting an anurysm from trying to remember the name of that band who were like the Jackson 5 but from Romford in Essex.

Actually, having just researched a bit further I feel a bit bad, its just some girl and she seems quite sweet and innocent. But all this aside, MC hammer does highlight the power that music has over people.



For example, Ellie Jackson (not to be confused with the Jackson 5 or that band that were like the Jackson 5 but from Romford in Essex) listened to lots of Depeche Mode growing up and as a result the has a shit haircut and a moody face. I'm not saying Depeche Mode are bad, in fact they are kind of alright, but listening to them too much could turn you into LaRoux.



A further example comes to light when I listened to the most recent Raphael Saadiq, I danced so hard to the song 'Heart Attack' that by the end of the song I actually thought I was having a heart attack and was rushed to hospital.



That'll teach me.

Of course In September 2009, London student Tom Reid died of sudden arrhythmic death syndrome (SADS) after complaining that 'loud bass notes' were 'getting to his heart'. The inquest recorded a verdict of natural causes, although some experts commented that the bass could have acted as a trigger. There are also rumours that there are certain frequencies that can literally make a person shit themselves, this is only a theoretical concept and has never been tested scientifically, presumably because scientists are far too clever to be cleaning up the shit of subjects of experiments.

So far it would seem that music only has a detrimental effect on people, causing heart attacks, people to shit themselves (although there is no scientific proof), and becoming La Roux, there is also the below picture, although that might also have something to do with drugs.



This has all been a very long build up to something serious that I would like to discuss, a friend of mine died recently, and there has been a lot of talk about what to play at his funeral. Funeral songs are often poignant and will leave their mark on those attending the funeral probably for the rest of their lives.

He had been in and out of hospital for months with multiple health problems, constantly dehydrated and his vision was effected by light causing him migrane pains most of the time. Doctors were baffled and unable to find out what the problem was. Then last thurday whilst cooking a meal he left his arm too close to the gas cooker, he rocketed out of the open window and flew 500ft into the air before exploding, luckily it was night time so everyone could see all the pretty colours he turned into.



I suppose its better than being found in your own closet naked having accidentally hanged yourself with a tie with a piece of orange in your mouth, but still, a bitter pill to swallow.

The test result from the doctors came back the following day suggesting that he had been listening to Katy Perrys single firework.



So there you go, perhaps the Taliban were right to ban music and kites and statues and Depeche Mode, but particularly music, and music accompanied by videos of a girl with firework tits, for this is music which has a detrimental effect to people, sometimes by turning them into idiots and from time to time people subconsciously taking the message of the song so literally, that it kills them.

For my friends funeral we suggested something fitting, instrumental and beautiful, which summed up his spirit. We chose explosions in the sky, just because it was funny really.

I will ease your mind.

Not sure how much further I need to go with this one.

Go to work on an egg.

The world collectively breathed a sigh of relief this week as on Sunday it was announced that Humpty Dumpty, thought to be the mastermind of the 9/11 attacks had been caught and killed in a gunfight after being located to a wall in Abbottabad.



Initially there were conflicting reports, with a source from the kings horses stating, "We are currently in the process of putting Dumpty back together again."



Although later reports from several of the kings men confirmed that "both us and the kings horses made every effort to bring back Humpty alive, but ultimately neither group could put humpty together again."

Groups gathered in new york to celebrate, with times square becoming a party zone, likewise in Madrid, where the survivors of the of the train bombing in Madrid made an effort to make the worlds biggest Omelette as a celebration.



However, many of the survivors of the 7/7 attacks in London found the Omelette tasteless and didn't enjoy the fact that esparagus was placed inside it.

Humpty had evaded capture for several years having thought to be in a battery farm in Afghanistan, but after the most expensive manhunt in history drew a blank intelligence from someone making breakfast in a wealthy district of Pakistan confirmed that the unusually high walls surrounding the compound meant that it was highly likely to be a rather high value egg in the compound.

A fierce firefight between all the kings horses, men and Dumptys henchmen ensued and
in at the end of the fray, Dumpty fell off the wall.

Dumpty was disposed of in traditional egg fashion and was apparently poached, although critics claimed that Dumpty should have in fact been fried or even scrambled.

President Obama's announcement that Dumpty is dead is almost certain to get him re-elected next term, but there are some people who claim, not only that Dumptys death came 10 years too late, but that Dumpty is actually a nursary rhyme and has nothing to do with Al Qaida figurehead Osama Bin Laden.



Having said that, there is about as much evidence that Osama Bin Laden is an Egg as there is that Humpty Dumpty is.

Why do people think Humpty Dumpty is an egg when there is no evidence that he is an egg?

Because we are told, there is no reason to believe that Humpty Dumpty is not an egg. It is for that reason that we may as well abandon any conspiracy theory suggesting the death of Bin Laden is faked.

So in Summary, there is no actual evidence that Bin Laden is dead, but by the same token there is no evidence that Humpty Dumpty is an egg.



1954-2011

Right Royal Palava.

Every day on my way to work, I travel past a piece of grafitti angrily stating that someone should 'Sack Cameron!' They've even put a little exclamation mark at the end of the statement, as if the fact that it was written on a wall in bold lettering wouldn't be enough to draw your attention to it. Who it is that should sack Cameron isn't made clear in the writing, but I would assume its directed at someone on the train.

There is something quintessentially British about this kind of Grafitti. Not in the sense that you could imagine the author of said piece queuing up patiently behind a group of grafitti artists, drinking tea out of a bowler hat wearing the union jack dress that Geri Halliwell wore at the brits all those years ago.



No, not like that at all.

The artist in question risked life and limb climbing onto a roof so that his message could clearly be displayed, and even after the adrenaline rush that no doubt accompanies an act as illegal and dangerous as this, the said artist still maintained the reserved approach necessary to put across his message. "Make James Cameron unemployed!" Afterall, Avatar, inspite of its stunning visual effects was fucking dire.



Thats the problem with a piece of grafitti like this, is that it is ambiguous, although being from london and knowing who the prime minister is, most londoners probably know that this grafitti isn't about director James Cameron, but Prime Minister with the same surname, David.

Going back to the sentiment behind the scrawl, it is completely restrained. By looking at some less restrained protests than this we can see why this protest will be relegated to the lower divisions of protest.



Burning effigy of George w Bush.



Burning Jade Goody effigy



A Monk burning an effigy of himself.



The Italians sacking then leader Benito Mussolini.

Foreign protest and direct action is subject to much more effort than it is in Britain, and that is because we put our efforts into other things.



Like Making Mugs (of ourselves)



Or staring at Jelly Beans for so long that they start to resemble future queens of England.

Thats right, we are too busy preparing for the royal wedding, how quintessentially British!

I'm not sure that the people who might read this, would really want to read about the union in wedlock of the most perfect couple in Britain, the eyes of the world will no doubt be watching with baited breath as St Pauls Cathederal (or Westminster Abbey, I can't remember which.) becomes a moment of union between a figurehead of Britain, marries a commoner. its like a disney film blah blah.



It becomes very difficult to even watch TV when TV listings start to look like this.

5pm: The One Show Royal Wedding Special.

5.30pm: Neighbours: the Royal Wedding Special

6pm: Come Dine With Me: Royal Wedding Special.

7pm: Eastenders: Royal Wedding Special.

8pm: fhggerh arghgh dut diut derr: Royal Wedding Special.

9pm: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEkpft: Royal Wedding Special.

It carries on like white noise attacking your headspace, like the torture scene in the ipcress file brainwashing you until you think of the royal family with nothing but obedience and devotion.

In the mean time all of this talk of Royal Weddings makes me think of a previous royal wedding. No not Princess Diana, there are enough people drawing comparisons between Kate and Di. ( thats what I call them, because I'm close enough with both of them to be informal with them, although not as close as James Gilby was with Di... He called her Squidgy.)




Or as with any of the other people she had extra marital affairs with.

No, the Royal wedding I am thinking of is the one in the last episode of Dynasty, which rather strangely took place during an armed uprising of a fictional central european country. Ending in the execution of every guest in the church.



In spite of that, it wouldn't be innapropriate to call this a bloodless coup, because although riddled with machinegun bullets there is not a spec of blood on any of the dead guests. Which I would suggest is also quintessentially british.



What else would be considered quintessentially british? Well, Points of View, a programme about British peoples opinions on British TV, moaning about the lack of variety, or about too much variety or that the variety on their TV isn't varied enough. Its not the sort of thing you'd get on Chinese state TV.




A smug sarcastic blog subtley complaining about the royal wedding would probably be quite British. The equivalent of demanding the Prime Minister join the dole queue via a spray can with a Dick Van Dyke accent an Umberella on a flying bed. I might as well have made a cushion with Will and Kates face on it for all the good it did me.



Anyway, just in case you need some kind of catharsis, watch the Moldaivan Royal Wedding massacre below.


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What do we really know about Olly Murs

In a world where Alexandra Burke can win a competition in which hundreds of thousands of people have entered to be crowned the most talented, it might be easy to overlook someone like Olly Murs. But Burke is a very straightforward character, in some respects, a carbon copy of former X-factor winners Leona Lewis, and Michelle McManus. Murs on the other hand is all thing to all men. Cheeky chappy you wouldn't mind going to the pub with, a ladies man, a fashion icon, an artiste... a man with many facets. a bit like Roger, the man who released the album, 'The Many Facets of Roger'. Another multifaceted man is robin thicke, because he is as thicke as pigshit. Lots of facets. But these facets pale in significance compared to the pork pie hatted Murs... lots of facets. Upon a closer inspection we can see what these facets actually mean and therefore understand just who Olly Murs actually is... Like Thicke and Roger before him, this image shows that human nature is complex, the human animal will be subject to many emotions, will struggle between rationale and base animal instinct. Philosophers have struggled over the millenia to reconcile this tension but to no avail, this is simply another (if somewhat sophisitcated) attempt. By looking at this section of the cover we can see that Murs is capable of looking at away from the screen, averting his gaze from the viewer, being disengaged, but to the left of him is a Murs more than willing to meet us in eye contact, in spite of the fact that he can look both up and towards us, these two juxtaposing images give no sign that Murs is capable of uncrossing his arms. Here we can see Murs staring into the unknown, contemplating the universal ideas of human existance. Is there a God? what are we doing here? Do I have cheese or beans with my toast? (Poor Olly hasn't even worked out that you can have both but he will get there one day.) This section of the cover is indesputably one of the more Freudian aspects of the image, the id versus the superego. Certain commentators believe that The Murs on the left celebrates as the Murs on the right concedes defeat in a battle to complete a sudoku puzzle but there is strong evidence to suggest that the Murs on the left is farting whilst the Murs on the right is embarrased and covering his mouth to hide his shame, whilst keeping the smell out of his nasal passage. This section of the cover also contains the universal ideas of Levi-Strauss's binary opposites, with the Left Murs being the aggressor and the Murs on the right being submissive. It is also undenyable evidence of Murs' arm unfolding ability an important trait in the modern world. The similarity between the 3rd and 6th image of murs bare a striking symmetry. Taken at slightly different angles they still help us get to the heart of what Murs wants us to see him as. Pondering, worrying, a possible element of self doubt, how come there is dust? However, body language experts are unconvinced by the sincerity of this pose. The hand covering the mouth could be a sign that he has something to hide. Is Murs lying to us? What is it he is scared to tell us? The final image is telling, it reveals Murs to be not just a cheeky chap from Essex but a ten legged satanic beast sent from the depths of the unknown to torment us for the rest of eternity. Sure, he comes across as personable, but it becomes clear what all those facets are actually there for, to hide his true intention to be a puppet to the Cowell fame factory acting on every whim and will of the darker forces of nature. If it means releasing a shit cod reggae track, so be it. If it means sneaking into the bedroom of every child in Britain and eating our firstborn, I'm sure he'd do that too. Some people would go to great lengths to be famous. So when the X-factor does start at the end of August, think hard about who to vote for, because by voting for these people, you are giving them the chance to enter your homes, and you don't want a ten legged agent of darkness entering your home do you? This, of course, raises further questions, how did he hide this deformity throughout the X-factor audition process? Why didn't ITV stop this if they knew? How can Cowell justify exposing this to the public? Like Cronus, Murs could easily be capable of eating his own children. And yours. Then again, there is every chance that I have just been staring far too hard at this album cover for far too long and read more into it than there actually is. There is a remote possibility that it was all simply a lazy person at the record company who photoshopped a load of pictures of Murs together and went, "Tadaaaaah! this is the album cover because I can't be fucked to think up anything better!" and all the record execs said, "Yeah thats great, the general record buying public are cunts anyway, they would buy any old shit." Unfortunately as evidence is so scant of this period of time, we may never know the truth, but we can always have fun speculating on it.