Posts on Facebook ruining your life? Maybe not now when you’re young and carefree but when you want that top job at Goldman Sachs selling the blood of innocents for The Man then you won’t be so cool about it.
The solution? Post more. And more. Post all the time every day, all day, all year until you post so much you’ve not seen daylight in eons and you look like Howard Hughes’s toe nails at his most reclusive. Then they’ll never find your celebratory posts about poking the Duchess of Cornwall with a stick.
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*slap* There’s nothing like watching the force and pent up release of a decent slap. I say watching, because you don’t want to be on the receiving end of one.
And this montage has them in abundance, in all their manifest forms, from the hard and fast, to the more delicate and playful. No E. Honda though. Shame.
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You know how sometimes you go to the store and it can be a little boring just walking around the aisles picking up some bleach and scourers? Well it’s time to add some fun into that weekly trip.
Simple to execute. Take out your mobile phone, find someone who won’t punch you in the eye, and then commentate to a pretend caller about what that person might be purchasing. You may be an asshole but it sure is fun.
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What’s going on here? Oh nothing much, just Elmo impersonating Smeagol while the Joker has his hand up Elmo’s butt.
Precisely. It’s what you call talent, OK so it’s a little weird, the sort of thing an LSD-binge sweaty comedown sleep might produce, but talent nonetheless.
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If a ginger tom can play a keyboard then, by that rationale, a shaggy dog can play the piano. And howl. Or should that be: And how!
Either way, this dog should be on a stage in a sh*thole in Tijuana, surrounded by fat women in bikinis who can make guacamole using their butt cheeks.
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This fascinating programme is teaching Americans the strange and peculiar practices of the UK justice system. Behold! The pompous judges in their 18th century attire.
The tea-whiskey they drink while shouting “Guilty!” at Dickensian children who live in chimneys and wear clothes made from soot. Those Brits are double rainbow crazy. Watch this show while shouting “Cor blimey guvner, mother-dye chicken eyebrow!!!” at the top of your lungs.
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What is it? No one knows, it looks like something Mad Max built when he was messed up on crazy juice. Just what exactly is going on, no one can really be sure.
But at least the guy on the bike is wearing a gas mask, safety first and all that. Come the earth-scorching, blood-raining apocalypse these are going to be your go-to guys.
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What would you do if you’re in a store and a robbery took place? Probably shit yourself and start blubbering for your life. Fortunately you don’t need to answer that question, instead answer this: Who would you want to be your vigilante saviour?
A nerd, a fat karate chump, or hot chick. Got to be the hot chick, no? Preferably in leather hot pants and not much else.
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