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HI. I have moved. I have moved here.

Let's see how long my ridiculous attention span lasts....

Professor Thorogood is good and thorough.

Got questions? Questions that need answering? If so, email Professor Henry Thorogood at the LMAO Institute and he will give you all the answers to all the questions, all the time.

Visit his website here

Oh Yeah, This Thing.

Hello.

I doubt very much anyone has looked here in some time. I know I haven't. I Intend to ressurect this blog soon, I still like it's name.

In the meantime please visit here for some fictional email based nonsense and here for some very useful and down to earth Life Advice, or Lice. No. Maybe just Life Advice.

Goodbye.

The Apprentice

Hello, I realise I seem to have completely neglected this blog but I do intend to write more on it soon. In the meantime, I have written a review of The Apprentice for my benevolent masters at www.scunt.co.uk. Please go and have a look. Here. Please. Look in your heart. LOOK IN YOUR HEART.

Submitting To Scunt

No, I have not developed some new disease and have decided to write a 'Dealing With Headlice' or 'Living With Bleeding Gums' style pamphlet in blog form. That is not what I have done. What I have done recently is post a review on Scunt which is a satirical website I discovered via twonking about on Twitter. The shadowy figures at work behind the scenes of this very funny site have kindly asked me to contribute some reviews, which I fully intend to do. I have posted one already. It is here. It's 'ok' I think. Hopefully my next one will be better. Please go and have a look.

www.scunt.co.uk

Yours tremendously,

Martin.

Possible BBC shows for the summer.

TWIT MY RIDE

Beloved Hip Hop pioneer Tim 'The Big Dawg' Westwood hides in the back of a random strangers car and reports on their car journeys in his own inimitable style using the popular social networking site Twitter.

"Ethel Brown is turning her swag up to 11 and getting her game on. We off to Tesco for some fresco. We be taking Derby Road by storm! BOOOM!"



I CAN SEE FOR CHILES

Sad faced People's Pundit Adrian Chiles points out objects of interest in the distance whilst grimacing intently.

"I think, I think that's a post office..."





MAD ABOUT THE ROY

'Catchphrase' sensation Roy Walker takes an in depth look at celebrity stalking and the stalkers themselves, the show climaxes with a segment in which Roy is locked in a featureless, windowless room with a large man who has been stalking Roy for 27 years and refers to himself as Mr. Chips.




F###ING KITCHEN B###OCKS S###HEAD

Britain's favourite sweary chef spends a day with an average 'credit crunched' family and ruthlessly tears apart their every meal. Wince as he drowns one of the children in their pathetic bowls of cereal at breakfast, laugh as Mum's piss-poor ham sandwich lunch is set on fire and fired at her leg using a nail gun, whimper as Dad's offensive Shepherd's Pie is kicked around the house before Gordon beats the inferior cook to death using a selection of carefully selected kitchen implements.

All About The Trout

Here is an ace video of the mighty Rainbow Trout, edited by the tremendous Mike Nixon. Have a little look won't you? EH? I said look. LOOK AT ITTTTTTTTTTTTTT.



For more Trout action go here. Just do it, don't make me get up and come over there. They are playing at Trof in Fallowfield tonight with Ten Bears. Woop!

Funny Stuff.

These animations are dark as hell but funny.

Holy Shit This Is Amazing.

MUTO a wall-painted animation by BLU from blu on Vimeo.

Phone Jibber Jabber

I am officially crap on the phone. During my working day I have to make phone calls on a fairly regular basis to other firms, courts, and so on. During EACH of these phone calls I will babble incoherently at least twice. I get flustered VERY easily and whilst panicking about not sounding professional I tend to stammer and forget what I'm saying. I generally sound like a schizophrenic mental patient who has suddenly found himself in charge of a phone and can now finally get in touch with those nice glowing robot unicorns that promised him peace and tranquillity in the future.

During my last call I began to get things wrong and my colleague had to interrupt me several times to correct my mistakes. This reduced me to a mess which sounded roughly like Woody Allen impersonating Hugh Grant after drinking 3 paddling pools of red bull. During this nonsense I am fairly sure the woman on the other end of the line was trying to explain important things to me but I blathered inanely over the top of her anyway.

I could hear her laughing as she put the phone down.

Tommy The Cat

Good Times For Boys And Girls

Went to this again last night. Chris pointed out that I had only missed one so far when I went away to the America for a bit. The reason I keep coming back to the night is because its bloody good fun. The atmosphere is friendly and open, the readings are always interesting and fresh, and it's a good place to get drunk on a weekday with nice people.

Last night Chris was a mere spectator for the night and Miss Sian Cummins stepped up to guest host with the always tremendous Sally . They both did an ace job and dealt very well with the first drunken pain in the arse the night has encountered (I narrowly avoid this description as I usually run out of money before I can be truly annoying) who decided to regale us all with songs and tales of bravery from the motherland. He was very embarrassing and I considered talking in a posh english accent for the rest of the night to disguise our celtic connection. Also thanks to Jay for providing excellent music as always and getting rid of the silly man. Also providing top tunes was Mr. Si Connor, you can find more about him here. He is a good man. All the readings were great, and with each night I'm meeting more people which is nice for me and possibly horrific for those people.

One night I will be all inspired and read something up on the stage. I shall, of course, have to write something first...

25 Very Funny Things

Please go here . It is a new blog by a friend of the tremendous Jenn and the opening post is a magnificent piss take of the '25 Things About Me' nonsense that is plaguing places like Facebook right now. I like alot.

GO HERE, SEE THIS

Go here now.

Go on. Go to this place.

It is a fantastic video that will help you be a better person. Care to argue about that? Eh? Well? No I thought not.

It is a video by Crispin. He has made it to help others. You are others, so go and watch it and you will reap the benefits! REAP I TELL YOU! The words were made by Crispin and the music and the sing song were made by Socrates and Chris .

http://twelvefortyfive.blogspot.com/ - "WE CAN HELP YOU!!"

Brittle Branches Bloody Brilliant

Please have a look at this.



It's a video for Si Connor's brilliant song 'Brittle Branches' from his tremendous 'Seaside Surprise' EP. I think the video compliments the song perfectly. I also think that I just complimented the video perfectly. It was directed and edited by the mighty Mike Nixon. You can catch Mr. Connor playing songs in a live manner at this next Monday. Do it.

UPDATE: This video is so good it is taking up extra space on my page.

"Noooo waayy Jose..."

I love this

GOD LOVES THE WORKING MAN

I have spent all day today clearing all the useless paper and crap off my desk and out from under it. This has been encouraging, as I now have space to work and can reach for important documents with ease and even a certain sophisticated style, but also depressing, as I have unearthed a box of documents that were all supposed to be filed away many moons ago and were not due to my lack of work ethic. Now I'll have to spend days filing them in the appropriately named 'Dead Room' (as in where the 'dead' files go) which has the warmth and charm of an underwater tomb. I have no work ethic. I hate working. If I had my way I would sit on a comfy chair eating re-generating pizza and playing all the latest xbox games that magically appear in my console whilst I slowly but steadily expand.

Today there were some protestors that tried to 'occupy' the university building my friend works in. I never know how to feel about protests. I admire people taking a stand for something they believe in, mainly as there is not much that I actually feel that strongly about. I would be quite annoyed if More4 stopped showing The Daily Show, but it's highly unlikely that I would take to the streets over it. I enjoy Diet Coke but the banning of said drink would not drive me to take action and 'occupy' a coffee shop.

SAVING THE WORLD...ONE PERSON AT A TIME

The good people at 'No Chance: A Quarter To One' have accepted me into their loving arms and together, we shall help all those who seek enlightenment.

Go forth...and learn...

Martin Has The X Factor

Last Saturday I sat in my big chair in my little flat and watched The X Factor. It's not something I normally do but my friend Tim had asked me to contribute some guest columnist comments to his tremendous blog along with Sian, Chris, and Socrates. Here, for pure shits and giggles, are my thoughts on last weeks episode in full...

That was the first full X Factor show I have watched and I have to say I won't be tuning in again. It reminded me of watching WWF wrestling when I was a kid, too much cheering, insane graphics, and coronary inducing theme music. I did laugh at Eoghan's intro bit, especially when a star was born within his eye before shooting out into the screen. Very 'Day Today'. I also laughed at the faces of the contestants at the 'Vote for us' stage after their performance. They looked up into my eyes like whimpering diseased puppies in a cardboard box left on my doorstep. It is a sad day in hell when the only judge i liked was Simon bloody Cowell, a man so rich that he can store thousands of pounds in the vast attic space built into the top of his hair. Danni Minogue was 'nice' but didn't appear to have anything to
say and constantly looked on the edge of crying which was very distracting. Cheryl Cole is an amazing looking woman but when she spoke she sounded like a bank robber issuing demands in a bank siege and i became very aware of the strange prison tattoo on her right hand. Scary. Louis Walsh is the worst of the lot. He looks and acts like a war criminal on the run, all strange little facial tics and a most
insincere smile.

Anyway, it was 'American Week' or as Dermot O'Leary referred to it 'Tearfest'. Everyone was crying. It was disturbingly similar to the news footage of the aftermath of a high school shooting. Dermot appeared at the end of each performance and after brutally manhandling each contestant (I particularly enjoyed when he almost strangled Eoghan) he would offer them a ragged piece of tissue. Anyone would
think he wanted them all to cry. The word for the day was 'Iconic' and Louis Milošević used it as much as humanly possible. BRITNEY was coming, the worlds favourite pop mentalist. Until then we had the contestants and their two songs each.

(in no particular order)

1. RUTH

Or Shouty McBoobs as I liked to think of her. I know she was a fave of yours Tim and I wanted to like her but I thought she was poor on this show up until her last performance. The Britney cover was a massively bad choice and between mumbling through a wall of echo and shouting at me like a drill sergeant I couldn't really make out her voice. This was remedied in the next song, a Bon Fucking Jovi ballad. Already losing in my opinion but hey. This truly was a scary performance.
Accompanied by a wall of flame Ruth turned 'I will Love You Baby Always' into a furious threat. At one point near the end I thought she was going to explode and braced myself. At the end her face melted with emotion and Cheryl said it sounded like 'it came from the pit of your stomach' which although supposed to be a compliment was actually insinuating that it sounded like she was throwing up.

2. JLS

Instantly annoying. I spent both of their performances trying to think of a good explanation of their name. Just Like Showaddywaddy? Jesus Loves Smiles? Obviously I failed. They did 'Hit me baby one more time' and I have to say I don't think I would ever tire of hitting them. Especially the tiny lead singer who, like everyone else on the show, had a 'CRY' button on his back that could be pressed at the end of the
song. For some unexplained reason the group performed in front of a metal bar, sole purpose of which seemed to be for them to lean on like winos at the start of the song. One guys jacket was so shiny I could see my face in it. The judges gave them a kicking. I think it was Simon referred to them as both 'Limp' and 'Lame' which made me 'Laugh' at 'Louis'. For their second song I have written down in my notes 'BORING'.

3.ALEXANDRA

Quite liked Amanda actually and thought she gave best performance of the night. A little disturbed by her announcement that she can taste her dreams though, is she an X-Man? Her Britney cover was Toxic and she gave it a good going over but on her second song she got stuck in and was so good that it made Simon 'proud to be british' which seemed an odd thing to say on American Week. Alexandra said Cheryl was her backbone which if true would make Alex the toughest woman alive.

4. EOGHAN

I hate kids on talent shows so this little prick was already up against it with me. His weird cold dead eyes reminded me too much of Haley Joel Osment, the kid from The Sixth Sense, to be considered 'cute' and 'lovable'. He fumbled his way through a miserable Britney cover after which everyone told him he was shit. To be fair to the little android he did not excrete salt-water from his eye sockets and was wheeled away. His next song was, I later found out, from that fucking abomination 'High School Musical' and so yet again Quigg was doomed in my eyes. He jigged about the stage with the grace and flow of a Thunderbirds puppet accompanied by at least 300 dancers. At many points I lost track of him and half expected (read as 'really wanted')him to be trampled underfoot. Louis babbled on about dancing like the petulant man child he is and everyone else cooed over little Eoghan like broody aunties. Best part was his beyond gormless expression at the end during the 'vote plead'. He looked smug, confused, and sad all at the same time which makes him some sort of facial expression triathlete.

5. DIANA

Or Buffy The Lyric Slayer. A very pretty mess. She appeared on both performances to have just got home after a night of gin and crying. She blundered about on-stage barefoot slurring her way through a Britney slush-ballad and giving a valium induced mumble-core version one of the most depressing songs ever, Everybody Hurts by REM. I wanted to put my coat around her and put her in a taxi home. I have noted here that she appeared to have a giant screen saver on in the background throughout both songs and that her initial appearance on a psychiatrists couch for her Britney cover was very apt. Cheryl said it was 'pitchy' like we are all supposed to know what that means.

Contestants temporarily done with, we had an hours respite (I played my XBOX) before the mild irritant Miley Cyrus sang something about someone and then BRITNEY WAS THERE. BRITNEY then did a completely lacklustre 'Vic-and-Bob-Shooting-Stars' club style song called 'Wuhhmenisahhhh'. As if this wasn't underwhelming enough she then gave a terrible interview finishing with the sage advice that all the contestants should 'Keep doin' it'. What a woman.

In the end poor Hair 'n' Boobs lost and left very gracefully, but not before destroying the first 3 rows of audience with her nuclear holocaust version of 'Always' again. Apocalyptic to say the least.

Wasps 3 : The Quickening

2 months have passed. I have grown a beard. Not because of lack of access to shaving facilities, I have stuff in the flat. No, it is a beard of suffering. A beard of wasp enforced solitude. There are so many outside my windows that I am in constant darkness. I think I angered them a few weeks ago. Somehow one of them had got into the flat. I trapped it in the kitchen and hoped it would tire itself out and die. For 2 hours I sat and listened as it bounced into wall and window, before the sound stopped and I peered in. The wasp lay on its back, seemingly expired. I picked it up using my trusty Guardian and set it down on the table in front of the main window. The legs moved ever so slightly, as if in death throes and I bowed my head in respect. I could feel the hundreds of compound eyes on me and I felt obliged to allow their brother/sister a dignified death. Then it made a strong loud buzzing noise and instinct kicked in. In a flash I had lifted the paper and brought it down on the already mortally wounded beast, spreading it across the table like so much evil pate.

The noise of the wasps outside increased to a howl. I have just executed one of them, I thought, in cold blood no less. I remembered reading somewhere that when you squished a wasp, it left a scent that attracted other wasps. "Bent on revenge no doubt" I mumbled to myself. My god, what would they do to me now? In an effort to repair the damage already done, I scooped the remains of the fallen one into a match box and, head bowed, placed it on the window ledge before backing away.

Since then I have locked myself in the bathroom with only hastily grabbed fig rolls and hot chocolate granules to sustain me. Outside I can hear the wasps chewing through my cardboard defences, inching closer and closer to me. I feel like Saddam Hussain. I imagine myself as a sexy dictator of some sort of sexy Amazon land full of half naked women being sexy and stuff...woah. The sound of wasp outside my door has suddenly gotten louder. They are in the flat. The cardboard defences have failed me. The sound is deafening and I am now huddled behind the toilet, praying for a quick death.

Its morning. And what's more its quiet. I must've finally fallen asleep. I crawl across the floor to the bathroom door. I cannot hear a thing. I will risk a look. I carefully peel back the door and dart my head out. The first thing I notice is the distinct lack of wasps in the room. This is good. Next thing I notice is that my wooden table and chairs are gone. I really don't want to see the wasps that carried that stuff out, I think to myself moronically. I venture further into the room. Light is once more pouring into the flat and I notice that the matchbox containing The Unknown Wasp has gone. I turn to check the kitchen and there is someone there. Squealing like a large woman who has just seen david blaine remove his thumb and magically replace it, I fall back onto the carpet. "WHOTHFUCKARREYOUWHATTAREYOUDOINPLEASEDONTHURTME" I screech, bravely. No reply. The figure is not moving. I move cautiously forward until the light gives a better indication of what new terror I'm about to face.

It's me. It is a life size me made entirely of well chewed wood chippings. The statue depicts me holding a rolled up paper in one hand, and in the other, a matchbox. It is stunningly accurate apart from the antennae they have added to my head and the wings on my back. I run to the window. The wasps have gone. I hear birdsong, lawnmowers, and the cold, dead laughter of a child. I fall to my knees and weep sweet chocolatey, figgy tears of joy.