Two intellectual giants and Youtubers, ‘Ivy Kenso’ and ‘Shortshortdi’, battle it out grasping the complex problems of our age.
Like, what’s the correct term to use for football—is it soccer as the yanks like to call it? Or just football? It’s like when Chomsky met Foucalt in 1971 to debate human nature.
It’s One Direction, but a much more listenable and enjoyable One Direction than you’re used to.
Zayn sings Story of My Life like he’s swallowed a Fraggle, Harry’s become tone death, and the rest sound like cartoon characters in this hilari-lolz shred by SamRick.
Everyone remembers the original Robocop, even if you weren’t born when it was out.
And everyone is lamenting the remake, which is gonna be crap, but never mind because Eclectic Method have turned the original into a robostep dance track.
Nick Santonastasso suffers from a rare genetic disorder called Hanhart Syndrome which means he has missing limbs.
But he doesn’t let it get him down, instead he uses it to perform awesome pranks on people, like The Walking Dead’s Norman Reedus.
Here’s one to troll all the racist white people out there, from masked rapper Rawcus.
Featuring clips of white people doing dumb stuff—face-planting, backflipping off buildings—it’s surely going to fuel the rage of internet keyboard warriors the world over.
Ever wondered what a beatboxer’s face looks like when they’re spitting out some beats—and spit?
Well, it looks really weird, but also kind of mesmerising as Bavaria-born DJ and YouTuber Flula Borg reveals—as he says, his lips look like “the vagina of a brontosaurus.”
Seen the new Hobbit film yet? Disappointed? Angry? Well, perhaps this new animation from the How It Should Have Ended guys can help.
If humour’s the best medicine it should go some way to healing the pain of these money-spinning adaptations.
Mancurian Mercury Prize winners Elbow have a new track out, a taster of their forthcoming album The Take Off and Landing of Everything, due out in March.
While the world may’ve changed since their last album, it’s reassuring to know that Garvey and the boys still do a fine line in tender, whiskey-doused melancholy.
