neurotic kitten

A cappella version of Dr Dre's bitches ain't shit

2009-01-24T13:03:00.002Z

This contains swears, is all wrong, etc... But still - amazing harmonies...

Incredible Arnold Schwartzenegger-themed heavy metal band

2009-01-18T16:15:00.002Z

Warning: contains swears, and scenes from Total Recall, of an **eye-watering nature**.

This band, Arnocorps, have singlehandedly created a new genre in 'Arno-Core', amazing!

Spotted by FilmDrunk - nice work lads!

I think I smell a Facebook rat, or why I now fear having trusted my personal details to the empire of a 21 year-old

2008-11-30T22:02:00.005Z

from:Facebook
to: me
29 Nov (1 day ago)

Unfortunately, the settings that control which email notifications get sent to you were lost. We're sorry for the inconvenience.

To reset your email notification settings, go to:

http://www.facebook.com/editaccount.php?notifications

Thanks,
The Facebook Team

Hmmm... Funny how all my email notification settings were on 'off', and are now set to 'on'. Is this just a desperate attempt by Zuckerberg & co to keep driving up page views? More of the fabled 'growth' he's constantly talking about...

Now I come to think about it, perhaps I shouldn't have uploaded all those photos of myself hepped up on catnip... Who knows where they might end up... Yipes!

Sasper: the homosexual ghost

2007-10-01T06:33:00.002+01:00

Is this offensive?

Passive-aggression, Bob Dylan-style

2007-09-22T07:03:00.000+01:00

The internet now enables us to message friends via Bob Dylan video - joy!

But just look what happens:

What brought on this barrage of bile? Could it be the equally disparaging Subterranean Homesick Bitch-out below?

Wasp watch with Bill Oddie

2007-09-21T06:09:00.000+01:00

The wasp is somewhere in the room.

I can't see him now, but I can smell him.

Leg stings. Wasp must pay.

UPDATE: Abandoning my plan to sever him with a kitchen knife, I slap him in the face with a rolled up copy of the Economist on the window.

Eat that, jumped-up leery caterpillaronwings

Feel the force of Capitalism, bitch.

Yeah - you like that? Yeah? You like that, huh? How d'you like this?

Natureredintoothandclaw 1 - me frikkin' 5, dude.

Leg still stings though.

Bastard arthropods.

Insomnia (part 2)

2007-09-21T05:52:00.001+01:00

As if it wasn't bad enough I just woke up at 4:30, an invisiblebastardshitting wasp just stung my leg.

Frikkin' selfish bastard.

Say what you like about bees, least they have the decency to top themselves when they strike.

And give a little back.

What's the major shitting wasp-y contribution to society?

Sod all, 'less you count stinging people at 4am.

Useless frikking variegatedparasiticscumbags. Wannabe caterpilla'

We need another 'Nam -

That'll thin out their numbers good and fast.

Oh wait...

A message of love to the makers of 'the Painted Veil'

2007-09-14T19:57:00.001+01:00

John Curran (direction) I love you.

Ron Nyswaner (writer) my beautiful namesake, I kiss you.

William Somerset Maugham (novel) I vicariously pat you on your semi-Victorian back.

Ed Norton and Naomi Watts (co-stars and producers) lets have a 3-way (Ed - I don't even care if we 'cross swords'.)

I'm not one for the whole repressedenglishremainsofthemerchantivory thing, but your film about cholerainchina really lights my ring.

And the climactic song? 'A la claire fontaine?' bootiful, I tells ya. Here - check this...

No wait, that's a bad example... Ah, what the hell, here it is in Chinese...

Damn internet.

(Buy 'the Painted Veil'.)

Topical Maladies: Insomnia

2007-09-13T04:21:00.001+01:00

Just read the time this was posted. Ouch.

I saw a recent article about an entire Venetian family afflicted by a genetic inability to sleep.

Too tired to read it though.

Stupidity is contagious

2007-09-09T10:57:00.001+01:00

Hmmm...

Just for the record, OPEC's members include Iran, Saudi Arabia, Angola and Nigeria. Something to aim for next year, certainly.

Dennis Madalone's America: We stand as one

2007-07-29T10:45:00.001+01:00

Awesome, awesome, awesome. U S A indeed...

An Ode to Fopp ('Fopp Flops')

2007-06-30T12:25:00.001+01:00

Musicchainofthegods Fopp is no more. Oh Fopp, with your evereverexpanding smorgasbord of
Cut price Tom Waits, Neil and the odd Zappa.

Your books I did enjoy (and the Tim Burton Oyster Boy children's book I did buy for a present 7 times.)

Many a pretentious art house effort I did purchase for a mere £5, and watch the extras anon, until those around me were bored enough to spit.

Oh Fopp - your newly developed megashopwithsubterraneancafeforgigsoppositescientologists

never more

The place off CharingX by the amusing t-shirts saying angelamaslutbovverediwanthatone where my cousin spent many a happy hour sucking and seeing

never more

Cockburn Street, Edinburgh - emoville, myfirstFopp

nevernevermore

The Ultimate Handshake

2007-06-28T20:32:00.002+01:00

Frikkin' genius...

Things to do when you're in a spiritual and existential funk

2007-06-24T16:00:00.001+01:00

I have noticed that our human brothers and sisters ('bristers') sometimes get a little manically 'depressed', a state in which they can no longer appreciate the endless wonder and joy of the world, and generally moan about shit like their godgivenrightogoodweather from the sky, or the parlous state of shittypriceylondontrains.

Note to humans: Shut your faces.

Think you know the unbearable shiteness of being?

Try being me - every meal is the frikking same, and then you have to take a dump in a plastic tub.

Since I'm such a felinephilanthromartyr however, I have compiled the following list, to lift the spirits of the spirituallynotsohomoerectus, so at least they'll shut up for five minutes about the state of the weather:

- Wonder at the lifetime of work Dr. Eduardo Gomez de Diego must have put into his 'Penis size per country' study. And rejoice that you were not present for the research period.

- If that fails, rampant materialism may purify your soul: buy some new suits, or some pettipants.

- Annoy those around you by repeatedly making citations from your canonical knowledge of atrocious teen comedies, typified by Van Wilder, Bad Girls, and most of all, Euro Trip (eg - you are on a train, passing through a tunnel, and you shout: "mi scusi! mi scusi!" - endless amusement! All around you will rejoice! And join in the funot for a moment turning to beat the shit out of you!)

- In a similar vein, start referring to your lover/partner/wife/hubby/sexslave to everyone you know as your 'consort'. See if that doesn't go down like a lead-coated zeppelin.

- Tell everyone you know that you think conversing on subjects so superficial as Bigoted Brother/Paris Hilton's incarceration due to delivery of room service while under the influence/President Lyndsey Lohan's war on terriers, and the clash of civiliverisation is

Jejeune if not disingenuous.

- Marvel at how everyone hates you now. Like, even more than before...

- Finally, indulge in a fruitless and ill-advised warofblogwords with someone you do not know and will never meet. Write regrettably poorly-phrased, poncepearlso'wisdom, such as

"What I'm trying to say is, judge not the individual involved in the 'occupancy', lest ye be..."

This could perhaps be the most worthwhile, important thing you ever do. Finally - now there's a thought to get shitupdepressed about...

When Cute Birthday Greetings Go Wrong (a tail of Catster Customer Service)

2007-06-17T14:50:00.001+01:00

Or, Catster customer service: terrific or terrifying?

Feline Facebook site Catster really takes care of you - witness the following exchange:

Email 1, from Catster:

Dear tikkles,

Meow meow!

We want to wish you a very Happy Birthday full of love and joy and purring. We are thrilled to be able to celebrate it with you!

tikkles will be profiled today with other birthday kitties on Catster's special Birthday Stroll.

Since it's your birthday we want to give you something special, so we have given you 25 Catster treats and one vote of 5 Paws! Catster loves you!

-catster-

Email 2, from the Owner:

Tikkles is dead. How could you be so heartless?

Email 3, from Catster:

Dear Owner,

So sorry to learn of your loss.

And we are doubly sorry to have upset you, however unintentional it may have been. The Birthday Greeting mails are generated from the information on the individual pet pages. Unless you update your departed pet's page to note they are no longer with us, the system will continue to celebrate the birthday which is part of their profile.

It may be that our way of categorizing pets which have passed away is on the subtle side, but we also didn't want to cause people to shy away from interacting with owners of deceased pets. For example, I lost my precious kitty six years ago, but his page is there as a source of comfort and he has some Catster friends, too.

You might want to consider adding a line to your cat's name field which everyone can read that says something to the effect of "Tickles No Longer With Us" or "Tickles in Memory" just to give a couple of suggestions I've seen used by other Catsters with deceased pets.

Again, we're so sorry to hear of your loss. Losing a beloved pet is so hard. And we are very, very sorry the Birthday Greeting e-mail upset you.

Thanks for loving Catster. We love you right back!

Meow!

-catster-

All hail the most amazing, and disturbing customer service online?

Robert Goulet Raps

2007-06-10T20:14:00.000+01:00

Contains swears and inappropriate language: what's rap coming to?

Goulet
Uploaded by countcockula

Party in Second Life, Y'all...

2007-06-03T18:27:00.002+01:00

Apparently no longer content with the wonders and joy of the Real World (the pre-Big Brother MTVrealityfest now in its 18th series) humans are looking to draw a line under their mistakes (war, exploitation, microwavable meals for 1) and start again online.

The following are the latest developments, from what has unfairly been dubbed 'Sadville', by those who have obviously never experienced the excellent nightlife and quality beach resorts SL has to offer:

"Woohoo! Partay! ... Did you see that? CfX123 just got her top off!"

Some interesting facts I have observed (i.e. - made up) about this intriguing, vibrant nonexistentnerdsparadise:

1) Despite major technological advantages over said 'realworld' such as the ability to teleport, the coffee in Second Life is still terrible.

2) Virtual sexually transmitted diseases are on the rise. The appearance of this problem coincided mysteriously with the arrival in SL of a virtual Ron Jeremy.

3) Second Life is big in Germany.

4) SL is not so edenic after all. That's ~~Germans~~ humans for you.

5) SL leads the way in humanfashionhairstyles. Top ~~fashion~~ web designers (the human fashionista a-list, as is my understanding) are agreed on this:

"These new extensions are just so me, don't you think baby?"

6) Top SL sculptor Starax4.0 returned to the real world in disgust in 2006, after his magnum opus, was shatonbeyondrepair by virtual pigeons. Virtual fowl such as Brian to this day deny responsibility for this heinous act of onlineartcriticism.

7) Transport for London has recreated the lookandfeel of the London public transport in Second Life with painstaking detail. Highlights include the thrilling 'bank holiday weekend' experience (no trains) and the scary nightbus extravaganza (get vomited on/knifed).

8) In Second Life, everybody knows your name, and they're always glad you came. This is in stark contrast to the realworld, and London in particular:

"Hmm... I have lots of friends in the real world, but on SL everyone hates me. Could it be anything to do with these glasses?"

9) SL User Qwgwq69 became a dollar millionaire in the RealWorld™ in 2006, not through some brilliant yet highly fraudulent virtual pyramid scheme (taking place, perhaps, on Egyptian-themed SL island Nefertitties), but rather (boringly), through property development.

9) As if this wasn't all too much to take in already, there are many other pretenders to the crown of unrealonlineparadise. These include Entropia Universe, Dotsoul Cyberpark, Kaneva, and the particularly uninternetlike-sounding Red Light Center.

Are you a blogger? This is you

2007-05-29T21:33:00.002+01:00

Even if you have not attained the dizzy heights of blogdom depicted here, they can only be a matter of years, and plates of nachos away. Contains momentarily bizarre, inappropriate scenes of a websurfing nature:

Life of a Blogger
Uploaded by butternutjelly-com

Kyle Maclachlan's dog gets a wash

2007-05-28T12:07:00.002+01:00

From Twin Peaks, to Showgirls, to having your toypooch manhandled by Martha Stewart.

Andrew Keen Vs. the PKR.com poker forum

2007-05-23T21:50:00.001+01:00

The case the against internet, presented by Andrew Keen, and how it is destroying our culture is really quite seductive, but is it really so easy to make such sweeping bitchywebgeneralisations?

The following user comment, taken from Facebook,

"No, not in LDS anymore, gutted. Back in Derby, got my own place and making into the biggest pimp palace in the world at the mo. Got white leather chairs with very large plasma, porn!"

Really proves his point. Maybe the internet really is amateurubbishposingaspoisongasculture after all.

Once in a while, though, there's something, the like of which you'd never seen before: witness this, a thingofgreatbeautyofsorts in the least likely of places.

Thanks to Rusty for pointing me in the direction of the PKR forum.

7 things I didn't know about myself

2007-05-17T21:16:00.001+01:00

Cato (not to be confused with Kuato from Total Recall) said I had to write 7 lies about myself otherwise the endless 'memememememememe' chatter of cyberspace would grind to a halt, so here goes:

1) Some people sleepwalk. I sleepdie my hair every night. I am an uncannyclosetginger.

2) I am a star

-ving member of the barelyhalfreaL blogging community.

3) Once I drank someone's piss out of a frisbee. Ask not why I drank it, but rather what it was doing there to start with. (And if someone took a wazz in a frisbee in a forest, but no-one was there, would anybody care?)

4) The pristine streets of the internet are strewn with blogshit. Careful, you might slip up.

5) Sometimes I get amazing scoops, which no-one seems to give a shit about. Well, here's one I missed... remember Mark Oaten's 'unspeakable act' for which he gave up hopes of becoming Lib Dem leader? Not, as I assumed, involving sex with a harem of catnip-crazed, barely legal (male) cats, but rather pootomouth acts, giving new meaning to (and sounding a lot like) potty mouth.

6) Nasty. I wouldn't do that if you paid me.

Oh go on then. 5 dollar?

7) Er...

Aggressive News Sunday - John Sweeney Vs. Scientology etc.

2007-05-13T17:09:00.002+01:00

Sundays with humans are just too frikkin' relaxed and easy going. So much so, I fear you might all slip into a reassuring yet brain damaging gravycoma. So here's some newsaggression to angry up the blood - blogcaffeine for the hungovercollectivebloodymind:

1. John Sweeney Vs. Scientology

Let's face it, one BBC reporter against the faceless cult always had the JohnTravolta'sChin-shapedChips stacked against him:

His explanation of the shit he's been put through by the 'religion'. Given that Scientology seems to pin a great deal of evils, including the Holocaust (see above) on psychiatry, it's at least a safe bet to assume they won't be suggesting, like one of the commenters on the video, that Sweeney "see a therapist."

Isn't it comforting to know that Scientology is playing an active part in the whole web 2.0 community? Makes me feel warm and (my (w))hole again. No need for any web therapy here. No sir. You can have all my money though.

Arg. I need lightening up after that...

2. Geraldo Aggressivo Vs. Bill O'Reilly

Hmm... When Geraldo gets angry he reminds me of Ron Burgundy, plus they both ghave creative facial hair - just how did the godfather of modern news deal with news-related spats? - cockfight, anyone? Mine's a trident...

Social Networks - The Future

2007-05-10T19:52:00.001+01:00

As humans spend more and more time online with 'friends', what does the future hold?

2009 - Doctors recommend that all prescriptions are administered via Facebook.

2010 - PussyBook.com, a social networking site for felines, is launched. Users can be reunited with long lost buddies, keep in touch with absent pals, and piss like crazy on each others' virtual 'walls'*.

2011 - Bob Tarkanian, 27, of Walla Walla, WA's 'online footprint' grows so large that he is mistaken for big foot, hunted down by Canadian Mounted police and, well, mounted.

"You have been unsubscribed from this network, beeeeatch."

2012 - Users get understandably confused between Facebox, Facebook, Faceparty, and PartyHarty('Celebrate your life!'). Hundreds of users arrange to meet friends, going to the wrong sites, they are frustrated, and set fire to stuff. This leads to:

2013 - The Great Fire of the Internet. MySpace completely destroyed. 1000s of aspiring musicians see their delusions go up in flames and are forced into cursedshittywankydeskjobs. Forever.

All that remained of MySpace. It is said that 'Tom' secretly hated everyone.

2014 - The creators of the millionth social network receive a special free frikkinstupidpiece of digitised fruit or something which cost only $500 and was bought by an admirer/stalker on FaceFarty and is completely frikkin useless. Oh, and a poke.

2015 - Live 'shit on me' videocast, broadcast on Shitfaced.com, the social network for the perverted arts.
* Sadly, this is already a reality. I urge you not to visit Catster. Anyone on there is clearly a bit of a muppet.

The angriest cat in the world

2007-05-06T19:28:00.001+01:00

This is a real face-melter. A cat after my own heart.

Angry Cat
Uploaded by Mumuse

It's good to talk (to yourself)

2007-04-24T20:17:00.001+01:00

Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness. 99% of bloggers are talking to themselves.*

But who is the more clinically insane?

The person talking nonsense down the street toawire, safe in the knowledge they're having a conversation, not getting exposed to radiationviablootooth on the bus ("I'monthebus")?

Or the poor bastards who while away the hours on their own, typing, crrrreating, striking blogold while their nonexistentaudience don'thang on to their every word like a dirty great googlespider?
Should've thought about that a little more.

Clearly they are all nutjobs, or, to use the preferred term, they are Chicken Oriental.

The difference (it is clear to me know) is in how frikkin' annoying they are... The bloggers are the pleasantlyunobtrusivecrazees of humankind. Having said that, they're a bunch of tossers - just read this. The person who wrote this, though, is clearly a bit of a wanger.

As, I like to think in my greatest moments, am I.

* Not me though. Today I had 7 unique users. Oh yes. Cower before me, oh internet... I sit astride you, legs akimbo like a shitting-great nerdy Shelob.

Spaaartttans! Tonight we dine in helllllll!

2007-04-17T22:17:00.002+01:00

Apparently being a Spartan, mostly you just get massages off a 10ft androgynous leader/god. Mostly. Sometimes you just stay in.

When you're not being a bit of a Fascist, kicking your male children into the snow to play with the wolves at seven, or at birth if they're particularly yucky/too freckley. The audience loves you Spaaartttans.

As a Spartan, you mostly like stealing stuff, when you're not killing. Or dining in the inferno. Or getting rubbed up. You especially like stealing from Gladiator (wheatsheafs, 'hell' lines) or Lord of the Ring (Gollum with a funny magician's hat is still Gollum).

It's dumb, Spaaartttttans. Especially when the Spartans chant "Uuuaaa" "Uuuuaaaa" "Uuuuuaa" a lot. If only David Lynch had directed '300' - maybe he'd have told it from the point of view of Gollum in a funny hat? Or the 10ft androgynous kingod?

'Like a Spartan: touched for the very first time'

Will Ferrell insulted by 3 year old landlord

2007-04-15T17:37:00.001+01:00

The Landlord

'Inland Empire' or '300' - Which is Better?

2007-04-09T17:28:00.001+01:00

I love David Lynch: hell, I might even buy his own brand coffee. (check out the bafflingstrapline - Lynch-tastic.)

Why is it, then, that 'Inland Empire' felt like such a frikkin' chore? Can it be purely down to insufficientsnacksbrought* to survive the extensiverunningtime in good shape? Will I appreciate its charms on a third viewing?

Soddit - I'm going to watch '300' ('contains [if not] strong, [at least a] bloody plot structure'), then see if I can't wax intellectual about a computergamegraphicnovelfilm.

*My snacks included David Lynch mixed nuts selection ('because it's all about the nuts, and I am... etc...')

Musical Bank Holiday - Covers Covers Everywhere

2007-04-06T13:05:00.001+01:00

We are about to be buried by a ream of cover songs, coming at us from all angles. Ferry does Dylan, Placebo have a bash, and Patti Smith finally cashes in. More disturbing still is Scarlett Johanson's Tom Waits covers album. Hopefully she's been hitting the whiskey and Chesterfields pretty hard, or she won't have perfected that Howlin' Wolf-esque growl. And if she hasn't, well... she'll be taking the great one's songsinvain. Elsewhere, Alanis does 'My Humps' (truly shocking:)"If you touch it I'm gonna start some drama/
and you don't want no drama/
nonodrama nononodraaaama."

"What you gonna do with all that junk?/
All that junk inside the trunk?/
I'm gonna gegeget you drunk/
(On my humps etc.)"

Finally, Randy Newman heir Ben Folds covers Dr. Dre's timeless tribute to womankind "Bitches ain't shit". Note: may contain swears:

Not even Dingo Kitty Chicken Jerky is Safe

2007-04-03T20:07:00.001+01:00

Would you Adam and Eve it? 'Cats are what is called "obligate carnivores"' - never have I felt so sophisticated. Also, macadamia nuts can be dangerous if introduced to your pet. What about the rest of the nut kingdom?

Other news: Cats are persnickety. If you understand what this means, then you heard it here first.

Toilet Habits of the Rich and Famous

2007-03-30T21:27:00.001+01:00

The rise of the Celebrity gossip machine corresponds with humankind's decline.

Five years ago, you would while away the hours reciting poetry and supping port. Now, all of you just read Heat.

I am, of course, above such things.

On an unrelated topic, it has been calculated that topactress Famke Janssen goes to the bathroom on average every half an hour.

Now that's what I call a story. It's indelicate, and it's none of my business, but hey - bring on the quirky faults like this, and I'll soon feel that the richnfamous are my new best friends.

Apparently she quite likes drinking water.

But how would you get through a longish car journey with her?

I'd be all like "no, Famke, we are not making another unscheduled stop."

Which is a shame really, 'cos otherwise we'd make ideal travelling companions. We could discuss poetry, art, her performance in Rounders, the hysterical reaction of the British press to the makers of South Park taking the Queen's image in vain, and she could give me the beef on why she turned down that part in Terminator III.

But every time, our intellectual discourse would be disrupted by her complaining she was busting for a piss.

Tom Waits on Fernwood Tonight

2007-03-23T22:12:00.001Z

Hilarious version of 'The Piano has been Drinking' from Tom Waits, plus a young Fred Willard, star of 'Best in Show', 'Anchorman', etc.

How to Make Money on Second Life (tips for vincent gallo)

2007-03-21T20:32:00.001Z

As Second Life continues to grow, the richnfamous will begin to use this vicariousworld to pimp their wares.

Some more literally than others:

"I, Vincent Gallo, star of such classics as Buffalo 66 and The Brown Bunny have decided to make myself available to all women.All women who can afford me, that is. For the modest fee of $50,000 plus expenses, I can fulfill the wish, dream, or fantasy of any naturally born female.Scanning for STD's is required as is bathing* and grooming prior to our encounter. Detailed photos of potential clients also required prior. An extra fee for security to protect me is charged on top of the fantasy fee."

This is from the confident Buffalo lad's website itself. Just think how much further you could take this on Second life, V.G., plus all your grooming and hygiene-related angst would be a thing of the crappyrealworld past.

You could even get a robot to stand in for you Saturday night. Or an unpaid intern.

Sweet.

*Taking a shower prior to GalloRumpus is unacceptable. Ladies only.

'Creep' in the style of Tom Waits

2007-03-17T16:57:00.001Z

Uncanny Tom Waits impersonator Jon Brion does Radiohead. Nice.

How not to Land a Job

2007-03-14T22:11:00.001Z

This is an unfortunate exchange indeed.

From: Amir Saffar

My creativity, enthusiasm, communication skills and ability to work without supervision are my strong points. I have extensive design experience and a Canadian passport, so travelling to the UAE would not be an issue for me. I have been trained to work with people from different cultures and backgrounds.

From: Mike Platts

Thanks for sending us your CV. We'd certainly be interested in speaking with you. Just to clarify, are you plannig to visit Dubai during your vacation? If not, perhaps we can arrange to speak over the phone.

From: Amir Saffar

Hi again. I guess people work for free here in Dubai. Am I correct?

From: Mike Platts

Sorry, you've completely lost me there. How did I imply that people 'work for free' in Dubai?

From: Amir Saffar

It's very simple Mike. You are interested in my profile and I wanted to know how much you were able to pay. No response means: either you can't pay that much or you only hire Indians and Pakistanis who don't ask for a good salary. But dude, I am neither Indian or Paki and I have never worked for less than $2,000 a month. You got it now?

From: Mike Platts

Jesus, that's some chip you've got on your shoulder there, pal. Your first email didn't mention money. If you sent another after that, then sorry, but I didn't get it. Anyway, it's worked out well. I wouldn't want a bigoted arsehole like you working with us and I'm sure the Indians and Pakis working at North55 - most of whom earn more than $2,000 a month - are glad they won't have to put up with your small-minded bulls*** either. Best of luck finding a job. I'm sure you'll get exactly the position you deserve.

From: Amir Saffar

$2,000 a month is a joke bro. I got paid that much when I graduated. Perhaps you've had a low-paid job back home and are satisfied with $2,000! Were you a cleaner or a security guard, Mike?

From: Mike Platts

You really are an irritating little troll, aren't you? You can barely write English and you seem to have a problem reading it too. So I'll break it down for you: not. wanted. here. Now f*** off. All the best, Mike.

P.S.: I'm taking the liberty of copying some of my colleagues from the industry here, just in case they too should have the misfortune of hearing from you. I'm sure they'd be kind enough to forward it on to their pals, too.

From: Amir Saffar

Mike, you were either a security guard, a cleaner or one of those guys who is a pain in the ass. Who knows, maybe one day you'll be working for people like me.

From: Mike Platts

Congratulations - You're famous.

My New All Time Favorite Euphemism

2007-03-06T20:54:00.001Z

Popular euphemisms in common usage include "hazing the proverbial carrot", "smurfing the wookie", and perhaps most baffling, the ToniBlaire-penned gawkyhatephrase "onestopshop."

Use of the old "to sleep with" sexeuphemismo has always interested me. Are coitus and lying in bed unconscious really so linked up in the human mind? Furthermore, does this make "restroom" a euphemism for "sexyroom"?

Check out the Always Amusing Euphemism Generator, or rather, just carry on as you were before, hoping no-one was looking as you were "widening the pocket area". You know what I mean - I'm talking to you, over there, the one "perusing the Spanish President".

"Of course, back in my day we called it freeing the sloppy gusset".

That stopped you.

Oscar for the Stupidest Human ever?

2007-03-01T20:46:00.001Z

NEW YORK - Idaho resident Kathy Evans brought humiliation to humankind when she set a new standard for stupidity on the popular TV show, "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire."

After being introduced to the show's host Meredith Vieira, Evans assured her that she was ready to play, whereupon she was posed with an extremely easy $100 question:

"Which of the following is the largest?"

A) A Peanut
B) An Elephant
C) The Moon
D) Hey, who you calling large?

Immediately Mrs. Evans was struck with an all consuming panic as she realized that this was a question to which she did not readily know the answer.

"Hmm, oh boy, that's a toughie," said Evans, as Vieira did her level best to hide her disbelief and disgust. "I mean, I'm sure I've heard of some of these things before, but I have no idea how large they would be."

Evans made the decision to use the first of her three lifelines, the 50/50. Answers A and D were removed, leaving her to decide which was bigger, an elephant or the moon. However, Evans still remained unsure.

"Oh! It removed the two I was leaning towards!" exclaimed Evans. "Darn. I think I better phone a friend."

Using the second of her two lifelines on the first question, Mrs. Evans asked to be connected with her friend Betsy, who is an office assistant.

"Hi Betsy! How are you? This is Kathy! I'm on TV!" said Evans, wasting the first seven seconds of her call. "Ok, I got an important question. Which of the following is the largest? B, an elephant, or C, the moon. 15 seconds hun."

Betsy quickly replied that the answer was C, the moon. Evans proceeded to argue with her friend for the remaining ten seconds.

"Come on Betsy, are you sure?" said Evans. "How sure are you? Puh, that can't be it."

To everyone's astonishment, the moronic Evans declined to take her friend's advice and pick 'The Moon.'

"I just don't know if I can trust Betsy. She's not all that bright. So I think I'd like to ask the audience," said Evans.

Asked to vote on the correct answer, the audience returned 98% in favor of answer C, 'The Moon.' Having used up all her lifelines, Evans then made an interesting choice.

"Wow, seems like everybody is against what I'm thinking," she said. "But you know, sometimes you just got to go with your gut. So, let's see. For which is larger, an elephant or the moon, I'm going to have to go with B, an elephant. Final answer."

Evans sat before the dumbfounded audience, the only one waiting with bated breath, and was told that she was wrong, and that the answer was in fact, C, 'The Moon.'

tikkles reborn

2007-02-25T21:01:00.001Z

Thanks for all the message of support following the news of my death. No really - you are too kind - there were so many.

This is, of course, blogspeak for "zero".

Sadly for you, the bitterness is now stronger with this one than ever before, and in death, I am more powerful than you can imagine.

Bit like Obi-Wan.

tikkles 1987-2007 R.I.P.

2007-02-22T10:50:00.001Z

I am sad to report that, yesterday, anti-human blogger tikkles was put to sleep. Here is a video of her, listening to Bob, footage taken just a few weeks ago.

Farewell, sweet prince, and may flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.

More History of MySpace and the Social Network

2007-02-20T22:08:00.001Z

Not a lot of people know this, but MySpace wasn't actually the first online social network.

No.

In 1864, Friendster was invented, by Isambard Kingdom Brunel, just after he completed work on that other great project of the Industrial age, the Clifton Suspension Bridge.

Isambard's baby was surpassed by the ubiquitous fog that is MySpace by the early 21st century.

Friendster found itself in the awkward position of being a social network with no friends. It soon branched out into exciting Dog and Cat spin-offs (on which my page has like a million hits and a shit load of groupies.)

Not to be outdone, notorious snob Queen Victoria launched her own mySpace for classybitches and thosewhobelievetheyarepartofarichoverrace a Small World. Victoria scaled the ranks of her own social network for the downwardly mobile with ease, soon reaching Tila Tequila-levels of netgroupiedom, appearing on the cover of numerous gentleman's magazines of the time, suggestively smoking a pipe and setting up her own branded online casino site.

Not bad going for Vic, when you consider Tim Berners-Lee was still just a wink in his great-great grandfather's eye.

"How many times - you can't be a member without a referral. Now piss off back to MySpace."

And you will know us by the trail of MySpace

2007-02-19T23:02:00.001Z

I once struck blogold with the following ruthlessly purloined witticism:

In the real world, everyone is famous for 10 minutes*, and on the internet, everyone will have ten readers (in my case, 4).

Now everyone's cottoned on to the idea that Web 2.0 is not just some new over-priced operating system, but also about... er... Community?

Ergo, a social networking site for every group you can imagine.

In Web 2.0, every social networkikikiking bolix will have 10 members. And each of them will promote themselves tirelessly through it 'til they're sore. We have:

MySpace for old people, MySpace for Arizonianians/(Lynyrd Skynyrd fans?)
MySpace for students and minors you already knew right?
A vast number of MySpaces for Christians (typical member: 'I am a christ' - guess his favourite movie). Standing in the other corner, and onlyslightlymorewholesome, Goth Passions (check out the 'petite morte' faces).

The all too human and depressing list goes on and on, even here - MySpace for the terminally dull and unoriginal.

Who'd've thought there'd be so much cash in making humans feel loved and looked at in a vicarious world of cablenfirewall.

* In the case of my owner, 3.5 minutes, having aspersions cast on his manhood by a Catalan Dom Joly/Punkt era Ashton Kutcher.

New Will Ferrell Movie Trailer - Blades of Glory

2007-02-17T20:13:00.001Z

Valentine's is Great!

2007-02-14T19:58:00.001Z

OH Saint V. How I love you: you brought us all V.D. I got so caught up in the festivities today that I was inspired to create an impromptu artwork, as a kind of feline tribute to the work of Chris Ofili:Yes. That's right.

My faeces down my owner's living room wall.

How's that for an expression of urban psychological and emotional malaise?

Shit hot.

Jason Alexander in McDonalds Ad?

2007-02-12T21:57:00.001Z

Cheesy. Nice white jacket though.

She wore a yellow nappy

2007-02-08T19:36:00.001Z

Ambitious women take note: if you want to get on, get with the adult nappy fad. Once it was the preserve of perverted businessmen regressing to a pre-anally-retentive stage in order to experience the wonder of soling themselves whilst enjoying some quiet downtime.

No longer.

Imagine my disappointment when I saw that humans were mocking astronaut Lisa Marie Nowak for her choice of pantage.

As a woman of a certain age, I have taken to wearing high-protection hind gear. It just feels so efficient and reassuring, much like those Canesten adverts I keep seeing.

What is thrush, anyway?
Ah, that explains it. Anyhow, I digress.

Where was I? Oh yes - Can love make you insane?

No. That wasn't it. Errr... Was Chris Tarrant or Meredith Vieira put in charge of distributing 363 tonnes of Iraqi cash?

I need changing.

Banging with Bernard Matthews

2007-02-04T18:08:00.001Z

This is my message of support for the King of white meat, whose empire was this week cursed by a foreignplagueoutbreak.

I'll tell you now - I am a fan of the chicken drummer, the fun-size kiev and most of all, the mythical and ohsomisunderstood twizzler.

Frankenstein foods? As a true pedant like myself only knows, Frankenstein was the monster, not the doctor. With no inbornsense of right and wrong, Frankie, and by extension, Bernard, must be absolved from all responsibility.

And besides, has a twizzler ever chased you across the wild, icy crevasses of the Arctic? Did a chicken drummer once kidnap, and murder your virginal bride-to-be? Any mini-kievs you know pick up the English language observing a blind peasant and his daughter through a crack in the wall?

No, Bootiful.

If God had intended for us to eat like that Jamie Oliver, he would have given us superior cooking skills, blocked the roll-out of the fridge freezer, and made the yam tree and the guava plant grow on these poultry-loving shores*.

*Bernard Matthews paid me deep in the purse for this article. £5, in fact. That's the cost of good blog PR these days.

Short People Got no Reason to Live

2007-01-27T21:05:00.001Z

Harsh, I know - but so go the lyrics of the song.

From Napoleon to Andre thenotquitesogiant, human history is littered with the painandsuffering of the lessthanaverageofheight.

Before my smallish audience, and many fans and devoted members of shortsupport.org, shortstuff.org.uk, etc. abuse me, I would like to point out that I too am a peewee for my species, so "I feel your pain."

Now doesn't that phrase just piss you off more than anythingelseinthefrikkinworldarghh 'cos clearlyno-oneknowshowitfeelstobeashortass.

Yes.

In fact, my own worst character traits: being a bitch, a bastard, and the author of significant and weighty historical novels are often attributed to my diminutive stature.

Not so. It all just comes natural like.

So next time you hear the offending lyrics to Randy Newman's song, feeling the bile rise, just replace the word 'short' with 'fat' in your head.

There you go - everybody's happy.

Why Does it Hurt When I Pee?

2007-01-21T20:08:00.001Z

I am blind. I am deaf. My nose is faulty.

The only sense I have left - irony.

This's a stroke of luck, 'cos without my seventh sense, I'd have strangled myself with my own tail years ago, or at least, before I could be a witness to the ratings-grabbing celebrity big brother racialisticontroversies. (That's the Hindustan Times, bitches...)

Think this will spell the end of B.B., like the H.T. says? OR they'll roll out another 10 series next week? Each one more delectably offensive than the last?

holdingamirrorupsosotruetooursociety

Minorcelebritiestrappedinabungalow relates to your life no question.

More than that, Minorcelebritiestrappedinabungalow is your life.

Or so the media would have it*. Depressed?

Ever wish you were a blind, deaf, scentless, blameless old cat?

If only none of this applied to you.

* to be fair, the blurb for this article is totally misleading - it's not about how British society is racist, but rather the cruelty of BB, from a former contestant. 'Why does it hurt when I pee' is a song by Frank Zappa. Likewise, it has nothing to do with this post.

Pharmacology, or the many names of Viagra

2007-01-14T00:34:00.001Z

Thanks to Romy, and Maedhbheen, and all nurses' cats for this one:

In Pharmacology, all drugs have two names, a trade name and generic name. For example, the trade name of Tylenol also has a generic name of Acetaminophen (or Paracetamol for us in the UK). Aleve is also called Naproxen. Amoxil is also call Amoxicillin and Advil is also called Ibuprofen.

The FDA has been looking for a generic name for Viagra. After careful consideration by a team of government experts, it recently announced that it has settled on the generic name of Mycoxafloppin. Also considered were Mycoxafailin, Mydixadrupin, Mydixarizin, Dixafix, and of course, Ibepokin.

Pfizer Corp. announced today that Viagra will soon be available in liquid form, and will be marketed by Pepsi Cola as a power beverage suitable for use as a mixer. It will now be possible for a man to literally pour himself a stiff one. Obviously we can no longer call this a soft drink,
and it gives new meaning to the names of "cocktails", "highballs" and just a good old-fashioned "stiff drink". Pepsi will market the new concoction by the name of: MOUNT & DO.

Thought for the day: There is more money being spent on breast implants and Viagra today than on Alzheimer's research. This means that by 2040, there should be a large elderly population with perky boobs and huge erections and absolutely no recollection of what to do with them.

Mr. Crack Spider's Bitch

2007-01-09T20:57:00.001Z

Frikkin' priceless. Give these people an oscar.

Taken from the '10 Years Younger' Application Form

2007-01-07T22:05:00.001Z

If you could summarise your life story in 30 words or less, what would you write?

Born. Weened. Tail got pulled. Spayed. Frikkin' humans. Damn it. (10 words).

Discovered catnip. Saw things different. All's great. Still no ovaries. (10 words).

Discovered Whiskas. Got fat. Lost weight. Loosefur. Stretchmarks.(9 Words).

Someonekillme.(1 word).

10 Years Younger

2007-01-03T21:42:00.001Z

This TV programme has to be the pinnacle of all human endeavour.

Yesssss! It's amazing - if I were a human, and thought I looked like a hacked-up dog's dinner, I'd be on in 2 shakes of a Manx's tail.

Don't mention any prices, darling. That'd spoil the romance after - Remember, darling - I'm doing this for you, so we can live together, forever, a beautiful life without my floppily-doppily bits. You will love me and we will be truly happy together. Phew - finally.

Channel 4 would like to point out that all of these operations are available on the NHS. So they're not raising any expectations or f***ing with your poor human head. Why not fill in the form to request your free plasticbodytuck today?

David Lynch Promoting his new film using a live cow

2006-12-31T13:35:00.001Z

Contains swears. And the explanation that "Cheese is made from milk."

Ah. Now I understand.

I lied. But this explanation really clears things up:

"milk is ideas and creative fluids that turn into cheese when we stir them around."

How to Swear in Kazakhstani*

2006-12-19T20:02:00.001Z

*At least, as it's spoken by Borat in his self-titled film. If he's really speaking Kazakh, then these are real, home-fired, 100% genuine Kazakhstani swears.

(Warning: Some of these aren't very nice)

Cuss emek / cuss achotcha tsola'at - Your mother / Your lame sister's vagine

(Told you.)

Yam cussi'ot - Hmm. Lah-dee-da. The entire female cast of 'Baywatch' has just honed into view / 'Sea of honeys' (lit: sea of vagine)

Ben Zona - Son of a 'ho

Chara - Stool

Rabak Arse - Twat

Tembel - Foo'

Lech tis Dayen - F U

Timtsotsli - Perform the Pammy-Hasselhof move on me. At once!

Joss Stone in Eragon

2006-12-17T16:14:00.001Z

But of course - what else could be on my mind at a time like this?

"You are stronger than you realize. Wiser than you know. What was once your life is now your legend."

Homoerotic orctrilogy Lord of the Ring didn't sate your appetite for dwarf-tossing in the woods then?

That must be why there's Eragon - in the place of sexy dwarves and hobbits with (un)matching regional accents, we have Joscelyn Eve Stoker (Joss Stone).

As the Earth crumbles to bits, it's good to know I can go down the Odeon and catch 'soul singer' Joss, doing battle with dragons by singing "SupaDupa Love" at them. And if that doesn't work, melt their faces by carving up and serving an encore of the White Stripes 'Fell in Love with a Girl'.

Yessss. Actually, I quite want to see it now.

Sexy Bitch of the Month

2006-12-15T17:10:00.001Z

"Yeah, I know I'm hot."

This month's centrefold, Republican underwear model Jinny W. Bush, had this to say for herself:

"Judge me as you will, but I am beautiful, no matter what they say. (In every single way.)"

"I may have made some mistakes, but I never took the memory of our Lady Diana in vain, using a day devoted to news on her as a beard to hide my own bad news."

That's what I call unladylike.

"Hey, don't you judge me. Least I never pretended to be anything I'm not. The real 'ho out there's that ToniBlaire - claiming to be blameless and incorruptible..."

Danny DeVito: Drunk and Satirical

2006-12-10T11:06:00.001Z

North London Tornado Caused by 'Dog Gust' Butterfly Effect

2006-12-07T20:20:00.001Z

An almost-lethal tornado swept through North London today. Amidst all the panic and chaos which will surely follow, only the tikkles remains calm, offering you a reasoned, scientific explanation for these events.

As anyone who has seen the excellent documentary movie-film 'The Butterfly Effect' knows, small choices (e.g. - dietary) can lead to natural disasters (world famine, mini-tornados, AmySmart's CharacterKayleighMiller'ssuicide).

Allow me to explain: Had cat-hating man about town Jonathan Ross (have you seen his blog?) not fed his dog Earl Brutus his leftovers. Had the Earl not gorged himself quite so ecstatically on the rich, sticky mixture of caviar, wine and braised lamb. Had Mondo Rosso not let the beast out to release that smaller, gaseous beast then working its way out of his dirty canine body.

Chaos theory: it's the all new way to anonymously libel your enemies - just link them to natural disasters in three highly imaginative steps - and you're done.

What the Frikkin' Frig?

2006-12-05T19:39:00.001Z

Apparently, "Your Cat Can Use a Human Toilet."

No shit. But why would we want to?

Not content with spaying us, feeding us mashed up bulls balls in a can, and endowing us with human characteristics (see Mr. Jinx, Fritz the Cat, Tom, tikkles etc.) now we have to shit like them too?

"Don't worry your cat won't fall in." - amazing, but true - why? "they have excellent balance" - that's all my worries looked after (except for the sanity of humankind.)

Watch the full, unbelievable video here, yes - that cat is actually doing it. Human-style.

Mitsy: "Gaaaah..."

'Meet the Parents' meets reality. Not so funny now, is it?

a plastic dog mouthpiece for an ancient ships computer.

2006-12-03T18:36:00.001Z

This techno-poetry was found in a random email I got. I searched in vain for said mouthpiece (enslave dogs via my computer 'mouthpiece' add-on, I thought - at last! Yessss!)

All in vain, sadly. Though I did get a really good deal on these blue pills. Dunno what they're for, but the humans are just yumming them up.

I'm going to lace the squirrels' nuts with them. See what happens.

I'll be watching at a safe distance, camouflaged.

If things get nasty, my alibi is this: the internet made me do it.

Pretty water-tight: what you think?

London in Russia

2006-11-23T20:58:00.001Z

OR Why Tony Blair wishes he were VladnottheimpalerPutin.

"When I first met you, I was wanting mo-o-ore,
Then I heard bout the reporter next door,
What did you kill her for?

Sometimes, When I see you smi-i-ile,
Well it makes me cry
Think I'm gonna di-i-ie.x3

Theeen I see the look in your e-e-eye,
I've just eaten your pi-i-ie,
Know my death is nigh."*

Neo-KGB leader VladPutin - now that's what I call a serious leader. He's leagues ahead of you, Tone. Yes. We are talking 'slag me off and I poison your pap'-levels of noshittaking.

ToniBlaire dreams of this kind of kingability.

I mean literally, it's true. Downing Street insider cat-cyborg Humphrey IIk told me.- TB has wetday-dreams about it, he thinks about it in the eve when drinking Cherie:

"So, Toners - did you say the War was a massive great big stupid cock-up - you oaf, you cock, etc...."

EITHER

"Err...No David, actually I didn't say it like that, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't put words in my mouth... You've hurt my feelings, I thought you were my friend."

OR

"Whatever, Dave-o. Have a taste of this delicious speciality pastry."

Interestingly, humans don't seek out the same qualities in their leaders as they do in their friends: if someone you knew was a killer, or was indirectly responsible for thousands of deaths, or made rape jokes as a brilliant diversion to the mass killings, would you want to be their pal?

Nyet.

But you'd have them as your overlord?

*popular tune by Russian songstress and political freedom fighter Lily Allenovska. Recently accidentally brutally murdered in a freak leg-shaving accident.

Will Work for Kitbits

2006-11-07T20:16:00.001Z

The shitty dark nights draw in, mother nature takes a freezing crap on our faces, and before long, I fear, I will be out on my arse, in a frozen pile of sick (frozen - classy.)

My back is old, my eyes are old, and my fur is one matted piece of felt.

Oh yeah, and I have no pension... So then... It'll be back to selling my anus on some abandoned stretch of garden before long.

Fuck you, ToniBlaire.

That's all.

Borat in Toronto

2006-11-05T11:59:00.001Z

London

2006-10-22T19:22:00.001+01:00

With apologies to William Blake...

I wander through each bastard street,
Near where the bastard Thames does flow,
And mark in every face I meet,
Marks of fungus, marks of 'ho.

In every lie of every clan,
In every infant's cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
Prescott's malformed testicles I hear:

How the naked thigh
Every blushing net user appals,
And the hapless soldier's sigh
Runs in blood on downing street walls.

But most, through bastard streets I hear
How the jaded rabble's curse
Cheers the new-born racist's fear,
And blights with plagues the marriage-hearse.

You can find the original version here.

Genius MySpace Rap

2006-10-21T15:46:00.001+01:00

The Neverending Laptop start up sound

2006-10-20T07:57:00.001+01:00

There is nothing more fun, if you are a human, than to piss off your fellow library users by talking... Or even better, playing stupid intermindable practical jokes, like this:

Unfortunately-Named Websites

2006-10-16T21:17:00.001+01:00

I would personally like to thank and congratulate all the unsuspecting humans who gave names to the following sites. All the felines say "you guys really are the best of the best":

1. A site called 'Who Represents ' where you can find the name of the agent that represents a celebrity. Their domain name… wait for it… is
www.whorepresents.com

2. Experts Exchange, a knowledge base where programmers can exchange advice and views at
www.expertsexchange.com

3. Looking for a pen? Look no further than Pen Island at
www.penisland.net

4. Need a therapist? Try Therapist Finder at
www.therapistfinder.com

5. Then of course, there's the Italian Power Generator company…
www.powergenitalia.com

6. And now, we have the Mole Station Native Nursery, based in New South Wales:
www.molestationnursery.com

7. If you're looking for computer software, there's always
www.ipanywhere.com

8. Welcome to the First Cumming Methodist Church Their website is
www.cummingfirst.com

9. Then, of course, there's these brainless art designers, and their whacky website:
www.speedofart.com

10. Want to holiday in Lake Tahoe ? Try their brochure website at
www.gotahoe.com

Interesting and Useful Facts about Canada

2006-10-01T04:40:00.001+01:00

Whilst on holiday in Canada recently, my owner was contractually obliged to send me daily reports. He was fully aware from the outset that if his reports did not please me, or he was otherwise found in any way to be in breach of contract, I would shit up his flat, medieval style.

Pretty fair, I'm sure you'll agree. Here are some of his pathetic ramblings:

1) The word 'condo' is not an just an endless source of amusement for Britishers. It also means 'an owned flat.'

2) "Vancouver is like a city built in a month by a trillionaire" - Canadian Comic. 3) Humans with names like Erin, Brittany, and even Skylar, would you believe, do actually exist, and only a few of them are strippers.

4) If you get in a spot of bother with the cops, don't sass them about how all Canadians have floppy heads and say "aboot". This is what will happen to you:

5) On the West Coast, they don't even say "aboot" anyway. The floppy heads thing stands though.

6) Yes, I'm from London, Ontario. Not the other one, though I wish I was from Saskatoon, Saskatchewan.

7) Who'd have thought you pronounce 'Regina' so that it sounds almost exactly like 'Vagina'?

8) People say 'retarded' a lot.

9) Canada is a genuinely cosmopolitan, multi-ethnic society. Far more so than the UK:

10) The CFL is where NFL players go when they die.

11) Tim Horton may be dead, and a national hero, but his coffee is still shit.

12) Canadians have a great sense of humour. Evidence:

A series of walking paths found near Whistler, named after Frank Zappa songs:

A final word to my owner: You have failed in your mission. Expect your flat to be burnt to the ground on your return. Tough, but fair. I'm sure you'll agree.

Thanks to Theran, without whom none of this retardedness would have been possible. Go Riders! Word.

How to Swear in Italian, Part 3

2006-09-13T23:01:00.003+01:00

Give the tikkles a dictionary, an opportunity to learn, to feast on a nutritious spread of language, and I'll be straight in there, looking up 'nob-end', 'fanny-pack', 'tatties' and, most likely, 'gigantic asses'.

I can only blame my owner (and the entire human race) who I seem destined to imitate.

Sometimes, I even feel like the real hero of The Tempest:

"You taught me language; and my profit on't Is, I know how to curse."

Y'know wha' I mEAN?

* col cazzo e col pensiero: (Lit.:'with dick and thought') meaning 'this will make absolutely no difference'.

* sono cazzi tuoi / miei, fatti i cazzi tuoi: 'Your problem, dude, not mine.'

* 'sti cazzi?: Roman expression (Lit: 'these dicks') which has spread throughout Italy with the meaning "I don't care/not bothered". In the North of Italy, however, it is used to express admiration and surprise (similar to the Roman expression ''sto cazzo!')

* capo de cazzo, capo de cazzottella: Expressions of surprise.

* cagare il cazzo: (Lit.: 'to shit one's dick') to annoy someone in a way which is unbearable (the 'cacacazzi' is a person responsible for such an annoyance).

* del cazzo: (Lit.: 'of the dick') expression which indicates something that has no redeeming value.

* Grazie al cazzo: a put-down directed at someone for demonstrating a fact which was obvious and already taken for granted. 'Duh...'

How to Swear in Italian, Part 2

2006-09-06T05:26:00.001+01:00

Part 2 of my alternative traveller's guide to Italy: As ever, all terms are derived from the word 'cazzo'(or 'dick'). Hey - it's a phallocentric society, guys... What you gonna do?

* scazzarsi, scazzato: used to indicate an annoying or tedious situation, or an unwillingness to confront a problem or continue to work.

* non saperne un cazzo, non capirci un cazzo, non valer un cazzo, non me ne frega un cazzo: to know nothing/to understand nothing/to be worthless/to not give a shit.

* che cazzo vuoi? non voglio un cazzo: What the frig do you want? I don't want shit.

* stare sul cazzo (darsi sul cazzo): To get on a peron's tits/to indicate a person is an annoyance.

* alla cazzo di cane: (lit.: dog cock-style) an action or activity performed badly.

* cazzi amari, cazzi acidi, cazzi per il culo: (Lit.: sour dicks, acidic dicks, dicks for your ass) these synonymous expressions indicate serious problems, or ominous signs. (Also 'mo so' cazzi'.)

My first hate mail!

2006-09-03T15:36:00.001+01:00

This relates to this post, and this post, which really had very little to do with the Isle of Man, and a little more to do with some poorly-conceived cat-themed political satire. Check out what this hot-headed Isle of Man-dweller had to say about my writings:

Author : ciara

this man/woman/thing is clearly mentally disabled. your incoherent blabbering bullshit about the isle of man is total drivvel. your grammer makes no sense, so i assume you are american. for your information, suicide rates are lower on the island than in the UK. I have no idea what profession you were in (cat food tasting?), but it was probably your constant whining tone and pointless upkeep of a dull website that drove 'so many of your colleagues' to suicide. Thank god youre off the island, id hate to bump into you. oh, and by the way, King Chiaullee are a fantastic band, clearly you have no taste. MEEOW!

Got my owner to reply to this, as I had more important business to attend to, i.e. licking my own anus:

Dear Ciara,

Thank you for your thoughts on my colleague's blog. My 'man/woman/thing' is certainly neurotic, if not sick. However, using 'mentally disabled' as a term of abuse is totally unacceptable: why mince your words when you could've just said 'retard', or even better 'spacco' or 'mong-face'.

A little tip for the next time you send out rabid hate mail: when criticising someone's grammer(sic), it may be an idea to use a spell-checker.

Impressed also that you managed to work an Anti-American insult there. Unfortunately neither I, nor my colleague are from the US, but I'm sure people of all nations reading this will note the intense xenophobia and anti-retard prejudice people in the Isle of Man clearly harbour.

One to bear in mind for any 'non-locals' thinking of visiting the island, I guess.

I would like to put it to you that, for future reference, if you see that the author of a blog looks like they might not be human (e.g. a cat), it's probably best to take it with a pinch of salt.

Why? Well, to start with, all might not be quite as it appears: Do cats usually spend their leisure time maintaining online diaries?

This may shock you, but I personally believe that when my colleague wrote the material which offended you so grievously, the Isle of Man wasn't actually the target.

What my colleague was trying to do was to speak about another island, one on which prisoners have killed themselves, and where they are held without trial. An island whose existence the UK (Isle of Man included) continues to support.

Hint: the clue is in the title 'Manxanamo Bay'.

I'm sorry if you think this was therefore an inappropriate use of your island's good name.

I'm guessing you do, in which case perhaps you should look up the word 'metaphor' in the Manx dictionary - I hear it's been taken out though.

Thanks for reading,

Ron

P.S. - King Chiaullee suck.

P.P.S. - I have never listened to King Chiaullee: that was a 'joke'.

How to Swear in Italian, Part 1

2006-08-28T10:08:00.001+01:00

When in Rome, make like the Romans - cuss like a bitch.

For those taking their holiday in Italy this year, throw your guide book in with the litter lining. The only thing you need for a successful trip is the tikkles guide to I-Ty swears:

Pre-warning: being a patriarchal society, many, if not all Italian swears revolve around the male member(or 'cazzo').

"The concepts which come up most often in the words derived from the term 'cazzo' are irrationality, aggression, and also to cast a negative light on certain types of human activity, almost as if the organ mentioned is the opposite of the rational brain."

Some examples:

* una cazzata/e: a statement or act which is ill-considered, dangerous or just plain thick
* incazzarsi: to get angry, lose control (used for both men and women)
* testa di cazzo/cazzone: (lit.: dick head) an ignorant person
* faccia di/da cazzo: (lit.: dick face) term of abuse for someone who is repellant to you from the moment you set eyes on them
* fancazzista: a person who spends his/her life doing nothing
* cazzaro, cazzarone: a person who spends his/her saying nothing but 'cazzate'

Thanks to the person who wrote this entry on Wikipedia for the terminology. All translations by tikkles. The second part of tikkles' guide to swearing like an Italian coming soon.

Hot Chick of the Month - George Bush as Jennifer Lopez

2006-08-22T21:42:00.001+01:00

NK Miss August is Jennifer B. from the Bronx:

Jenny B. says "I fully support our war of terror. By the way, don't be fooled by the rocks that I got I'm still, I'm still Jenny from the Block. (Used to have a little, now I have a lot!)
No matter where I go, I know where I came from (South-Side Bronx!)"

She later added "I know where I'm goin' and I know where I'm from. Children grow and women producing. Men go working, some go stealing. Everyone's got to make a killing."

Knee Jerk Name Jokes

2006-08-14T21:55:00.001+01:00

It’s funny how humans associate unconventional first names with particular activities.

Used to be, my owner’s name would ring with organised crime, retirement and grocery store-keeping,

Whereas now it’s all about magic, racist football punditry and porno.

Only the other night, said owner told another human his name, only for fellow human to respond with two first names:

Ron. Jeremy.

Whilst other knee jerk name jokes might introduce instead one of the following*:
When your entire life can is punctuated by people you first meet singing ‘Da-do-Ron-Ron’ by the Crystals at your face, a fat hairy sex beast almost seems an improvement.

However, the great cruel twist of my owner’s life (in name joke terms at least) is that ‘da-doo-Ron-Ron’ is actually about a guy called Bill.

It may only be ironic in the Alanis sense of the word, but I still love it.

*Clockwise from top-left: Ron Perlman (in Hell Boy-mode); Rupert Grint (aka Ron Weasley); 'Popular' Italian singer Ron (real name: Rosalino Cellamare); little Ronny Howard.

Today's Demonstrations in London, and an overheard conversation between Tony Blair and John Prescott

2006-08-06T09:31:00.001+01:00

Yesterday a large group of humans met up in the centre of London. They were pissed off. They'd had just about enough. They were going to change the world for the better.

How?

You're asking me?

The mass of humans were holding long bits of wood, with crude daubings at one end, saying shit like

Israel out End the occupation Bush = wanka socialiteworker KibbutzMaaganMichael1999 I only sleep with the best Castro4Mayor GoKatyushas! Up the Bourgeoisie Turn back the clock to '48 and uninstate. Dick Whittingtonwoz'ere WeAreAllHizbollah

Not that much shit about ToniBlaire though. For once, I feel his pain.

Here are my predictions of the mammoth and wide-ranging effects these brave and knowledgable actions will bring about:

Short term - Saturday 5th. August
30,000 people protest. Central London is gridlocked. 500,000 have a shit journey home, donating hours of their life to sitting in the sweat.

Longer Term - Week of Monday 7th. August - Friday 11th August.
484,459 people tell their work colleagues about the shitty time they had trying to get home Saturday.

Meanwhile, in Westminster, ToniBlaire makes a crack to JohnnyPrescott:

TB: Ya see dey could only get 30 thou out there to protest? Weak, man!
JP: I know.
TB: Yeah... I be like sooooooo scared of them, with their big bits of f'ing wood, and throwing little kiddies shoes.
JP: Yeah.
TB: Bunch of lame-arses. I do what I wants, dey really think walking around town for a bit, shoutin a bit of bollox, gonna do anything?
JP: Yeah.
TB: Do dey do?
JP: That would seem to be the case. I am unclear...
TB: ...What da shit you talkin bout, man... getoff! I told you - I'm wiv Georgey W. now. He don't share, dude.
JP: Don't make it any 'arder than it already is.

Longish Term
David Hammond Jr., an accounting officer from Bromley, continues to tell anyone who'll start to listen of the great inconvenience he suffered over the weekend
when he was trying to return home from a particularly taxing match of bowls. (His team lost. It was very close though.)

There is no noticeable change in the geo-political climate of the humanplanet.

Meanwhile, Anna Robespierre, a student from Bucks., reflects to her friends on her experiences at the great LebanonON rally:

"Yeah, like, I mean. It was a great day: I finally got to wear my Fidel Castro costume. Cos I looked so hot in it, I got a lot of play from the lads there."

Kiffe Kiffe Demain

2006-07-30T09:23:00.001+01:00

Sometimes my owner likes to line my tray with his discarded literature. Why did he want to transform this glittering effort into feline waste-absorbant?

Maybe it's a French thing.

In author Faïza Guène's defence, not everyone in the land of cream and garlic is so far gone that they celebrate major sporting victories by head-butting each other in the chest.

Also in the book's favour is the fact that there really is nothing we lesser cats/humans enjoy more than to hear a Frogg diss her own.

Faïza Guène has combined the teen chick bookah, (Doria in the cité discusses her Moroccan descent, boy problems and the embarrassment of being too poor to shop in Agnès B)

With criticism of the French System (Doria ruthlessly describes an uncaring, distanced and sometimes drunken series of social workers and teachers).

Eat that, JackChirack.

Finally, Any book which could reinstate my knowledge of the following words:

emmerder ta gueule chameau gaffe mytho louche foutu Beurk l'impression moche m'en fous engueulé

has got to be good. I can only hope the English version is just as packed with fruity swears.

A Short Film about Bidets

2006-07-24T21:53:00.001+01:00

Chris Morris' next project PLUS Bobek* Overload!

2006-07-05T05:54:00.002+01:00

The word in the alley is that Middle England Provocator General Chris Morris has embarked on an exciting new project. Little is known about the dark one's new baby, though tikkles can hereby exclusively confirm that

the Mozza is learning Arabic.

Let us all take a moment to quiver uncontrollably with fear.

Over?

Isn't it bizarre that a spayed old mangy feline should be the first hack to get its fangs into this juicy scoop?

It's a mystery. What I can say, really... Wait! I know...

I hereby

Crap from a helicopter into the gaping smelly fishmouth of Heat Magazine.

Scatter-gun liquid poop all over the droves of BBC journalists doing shit all on a Friday afternoon.

Score a direct hit on the scalp of Guardian Editor Alan Rusbridger: he elects to use my waste as a toupee.

My bajs* has greater writing skills than you, craphounds!

Eat shit.

*Use your imagination. Failing that, get a Czech and a Swedish dictionary, and look up "mooky-stinks".

Manxanamo Bay 2 - Escape from the Island of the frikkin' Numpties

2006-06-30T07:55:00.001+01:00

Like I said, I'd force exit Manxanamo Bay eventually.

In the end, my breakout came in the form of a swingers grouping in the well-named town of Laxey.

Entry was gained through a wickedly convincing Clarkson disguise. Once achieved, Bob was your uncle(and sister too, according to local tradition.)

I'd like to make it clear that I'm not bitter towards my tormentors:

Despite the fact that the pant-wetting boredom of quaint island life resulted in the suicide of several of my colleagues.

Despite the fiendish torture methods of our highly sadistic guards (inc. repeated exposure to the Traditional Manx stylings of the Mollag Band, Caarjyn Cooidjagh and King Chiaullee.)

Despite the portion of my alreadymostlyfinished life lost forever, without trial (or even crimes) to show for it,

The tikkles abides.

This is surely a testament to the power of the feline spirit:

ToniBlaire can (and will continue to) do his worst, but...

The keyboard is mightier than his pathetically tiny sword.

Wake up cats! Wake up cats!

Oie vie*, gur mie eu and graih Yee ort!

*Surprisingly, "Oie Vie" in Manx (the official language of the Isle of Man) does not mean "oh dear", "my life", etc. but is rather a parting salutation. Good night.

Manxanamo Bay

2006-06-20T11:28:00.001+01:00

My many thousands of readers have been bombarding me with emails, letters, and threatening-looking, stained parcels, all asking the reason for the recent dip in saltypostings.

What could it be?

(a) A spasmodic attack of feline arthritis, rendering typing paw uselessly rigid?

(b) Confined to my tray following the consumption of a particularly acidic pigeon?

(c) Mouth ulcer? (d) Heat coma? (e) Addiction to looking at online pics of a naked Peter Crouch?

Sadly, none of these apply. The real reason for my lack of blogfecundity is that the neighbours are a pack of craphounds.

I was highjacking their wireless network, and this was construed as a threat to their household security.

Their cat Ickus testified against me 'cos I once wrote an article for the Guardian suggesting he was a bigfat, ugly shit bag.

Now I'm a prisoner on an unspecified jail term at a brutal cattery on the Isle of Man. I can be held for 139 cat years without trial.

The price we pay for honesty. And a commitment to the core values of journalism.

My fellow cons Shnookums, AliCat and Sfigatto have already gone the way of Kurt Cobain's pet:

The head screw says this is just a part of a carefully planned PR event with free champagne and FTV on the plasma.

I say they topped themselves 'cos of the combined exposure to the Bee Gees, Jeremy Clarkson, and Sir Norman Wisdom.
The extensive torture they suffered may also have been a factor.

Who knows.

Whilst I continue to plan my exit from this Manx hell-hole, my blogexpressivity may continue to be poor. Rest assured, dear reader, once I break out, I'm going to get primaeval on all of ToniBlaire's asses.

Svennis the Menace

2006-06-13T06:55:00.001+01:00

Sven Goran Eriksson has a machopantyearthquake effect on women. Model human Keith Allen observed recently that this is because Mr. Eriksson has a mammoth schlong.

For once though, Keith A. is wrong: in fact, Svennis' supa-powers stem from his time as a student at the Kiruna School of Coercion, Nörrland, where he majored in hypnosis.

Once SGE's particularly exciting brand of negative tactical wizardry peaks prematurely once again, the inscrutable Swede will be laughing all the way to Ikea, Halmstad in his open-top volvo, Abba pumping out, 15 of his bitches moistening the back seat.

What can he expect on his return to the land of 1001 elk meatballs?

Feminism, that's what.

And everyone knows that feminism is the only effective foil to Svenny's oh-so dirty 'game'.

My Swedish colleague, Karl Gustav den fjärde (Swedish feline royalty) filled me in on the kind of language Sven's inevitable rebuttals will take:

du är en skitstövel
- You shit bag (Lit. 'You are a shit-boot')

dra åt helvete, skitstövel
- Piss off, You shit bag

Din pitt är stör som den av en mus
- Your weiner is not so large after all,
Keith Allen has lied.

Och dina köttbullarnar också, de ser ut som ärtor
- Other parts of your anatomy also strike me
as below-average size.
(Lit. 'Your meatballs are the size of peas')

Dina icke konstruktiv fotbolltaktiker vittnar om dina små kroppsdelar
- Your petite body parts are in keeping with the supremely negative style of football you promote.

bajskorvhund
- craphound
(Lit. shit sausage dog)

Du är inte en lika bra tränare som Ron Atkinson
- You must wear a bra, just like Ron Atkinson. I laugh at you.

The Tikkles takes no responsibility for the veracity of Karl Gustav's translations. In short, don't try this in Sweden.

This post is dedicated to the memory of Mumlan, rest in piece, a good cat and a true Gothenburger. Her sexual exploits put even those of Svennis the Pennis to shame.

Sandi Thom - Eat my Bile

2006-06-07T12:59:00.000+01:00

Chorus
Oh I wish I was a hippy knacker with flowers in my hair
In 77 and 69 Maui Wowie was in the air
I was born in Banff to a PR industry that doesn't care
Oh I wish I was a funky knacker with flowers in my hair

When heads of state played air guitar,
Everybody drove a C5 Sinclair,
When music was QUITE GREAT and everything did ming,
When accountants were put to death
And the media still had pleasant breath
And MySpace was still scary and we didn’t do blogging.

Chorus
Oh I wish I was a fart knocker with flowers in my hair
In 77 and 69 neebie shwag was in the air
I was born in Haggis Land - no tuition fees, elderly daycare
Oh I wish I was a hippy moocher with flowers in my hair

When poptarts still remained a myth
And Scottish girls weren't forced to b'rith*
And when God Saved ToniBlaire and he turned to JohnSmith
When my mum and dad lived in sin
anarchy in the head of Laden Bin
and the only way to to foment terror was a letter in the mail

Chorus
Oh I wish I was a hippy knacker with flowers in my hair
In 77 and 69 toothpick tea smoke was in the air
I was born in Banff to a bam that doesn't care
Oh I wish I was a funky knacker with flowers in my hair

When Streaming Tank were on top
and lies were all that they stocked
and the super info highway hosted phoney showcase
kids were all writing sitcoms,
and playing games meant lighting bombs
and Scottish girls still had long hair and dirt across their face

Chorus
Oh I wish I was a hippy knacker with flowers in my hair
In 77 and 69 wake 'n' bake was in the air
I was born in Banff where sheep easily tear
Oh I wish I wasn't a lyin' chancer with cowpat in my hair

I was born in Banff to a horse that doesn't care
Oh I wish I was a hippy moocher with flowers in my hair

Original lyrics.

As you can see, cats, like the British, tend to envy the (fraudulently) successful. We also prefer even more high-pitched music-shit, like, oooh... I don't know, Neil Young, Prince, and the Cocteau Twins. Also, isn't that video a copy of 'Unfinished Sympathy'? For full details of Sandithom's career to date, see here.

* Meaning - 'circumcision'.

Time Delivery - Suck my Ovaries

2006-06-04T18:34:00.000+01:00

You can't, of course, as they were untimely ripped from my pelvis when I was a baby.

If it was me dealing with these retards, I'd just tell them to sort their shit out before coming round with my sadistic Italian American associate Luca Braschi-cat and shitting up their furniture, Medieval style.

Lucky for me then, that I don't feel the urge to buy up half a Swedish forest's worth of flat-packed crap.

The running total of cancelled deliveries for my hapless, witless owner is now 5.

Even a canine could never aspire to reach Time Delivery's Prescott-esque levels of employee and customer care.

And what should the Tikkles care of these paltry human issues, I hear you ask?

Simple: if my owner is unhappy, food delivery times suffer, and the regularity of tray-changing goes to shit. Literally.

And that's when I get really pissy.

So please click here, and send an abusive email to these tosswank, Essex-based, Scandy houseware non-delivering shitbags.

You'd be helping me out. And my owner. And by extension, the entire human race*.

*Obviously not those who work for Time Delivery, though. That email address again? But of course: it's 'support@TimeDelivery.co.uk'. Your efforts are greatly appreciated, unlike their sodding customers.

Bloggers 1 - Charlie Brooker 7

2006-06-03T04:53:00.000+01:00

Take one poorly-speld newspaper, pry open a section of its website to the masses, and marvel at the sight of ineffectual flying shit within.

Comment is free, and being a frustrated opinion prostitute is sacred.

Witnessing this horrorshow has made me want to run off to the country, and join a human-free, swinging feline colony in the Welsh borders.

It's bad.

To cut a long, bun-numbing story short, an article by Mr. Blobby-lookalike Guardian employee Charlton Brooker was replicated on their blog site* - Its topic - the association of the English Flag-bearer with yoghurt-level IQs.

CBGBs was having a laugh, I think, but the inmates took umbrage. In fact, they got primieval on his amorphous ass.

150 impotent posts later, and the tikkles asks this - How can humans get so worked up about the daubings on a shit-made synthetic rag?

This was a 'debate', after all, centring upon a white bit with two red lines on.

Who really gives a shit?

Who?

An awful lot of lonely, jobless, thwarted losers.

*Current readership: 3, all held in restrictive jacketware (activities permitted: typing and the odd glory wank.) For the absolutely definitive word on internet 'debates', read this.

The Joy of Catster

2006-05-29T01:15:00.001+01:00

I was intrigued to discover catster.com, a site for felines modelled on mildly successful NewsCorp offering mySpace.com ("Where exhibitionists meet perverts").

'Yesss' I thought: finally a place for me to network, prove to the world how many friends I have, and post lurid shots of myself semi-clothed and drunk.

It wasn't long, however, before I made a shocking discovery about my new online haven of self-promotion:

It's run by frikkin' humans! And the profiles, posts, comments, EVERYTHING, are posted by sick human weirdos, with nothing better to do with their time! My suspicions were first aroused by the following:

Catster the fun kitty cat feline website to share cat photos and cat stories. You'll find cat breed photo galleries, cat pictures, cute cat photos, silly kitten pictures, a gallery of adorable kittens. You'll be able to make your cats webpage from your photos and tails. You'll see pictures of other cats and read their stories and make feline friends and virtual play dates. So join the fun, join the Catster pack now and power to the paws!

No cat would be capable of writing such unadulterated shite.

My Catster profile's been up 2 days, and already has more views than my blog will ever get.

Humans - you may have won the opposable thumb lottery, but let me just say this:

There are signs you are heading for a fall.

You can view my Catster profile here. Some of my 'friends' include Mr. Snuggles, Korky and Wibble. Oh, and Humphrey, who is actually my friend, and thankfully no relation to ToniBlaire's ex-housebitch. Whilst I hate Catster and all it stands for, if it's anything like MySpace.com, it'll be a great pick-up spot, and I can get me some classy tail.

Gorgeous Galloway - Headline 'Ho

2006-05-26T16:36:00.001+01:00

According to the latest reports, it would be a fitting punishment for hairycigar 'comedy terrorist' George Galloway to suffer death by weasel*.

Not for his comments about ToniBlaire in respected political journal GQ, set down in crayon by journalistic heavyweight Piers Morgan...

Not for his chummy horseplay with Hollywood dictator and fellow cigar aficianado Fidel Cuba...

My gripe is with his repeated, misleading cat impersonations.

Gigi - Do you really think these impressions are still necessary? You have already created great offence in the feline community: I know for a fact that Maureen Lipman's cat, Mr. Snuggles (a close personal friend of mine) has been so traumatised by your antics that she's taken to eating her own dirt again.

And you have the balls to talk to me about respekt.

Do you really think that your continued crass and emotionally manipulative cat-apeing is going to get you any closer to

the vicinity of Dame Rula Lenska's panties?

Get real, fat face. And someone get him out of that damn nappy.

*"Ve cover you in eggs and bacon, then ve set them on you. Zay alvays go for the johnson!"

Eating Disorders

2006-05-23T15:19:00.001+01:00

My little pony,
Skinny and boney.

Looked in the mirror,
Saw a gorilla.

Only in nursery rhymes does humanity ever get anywhere near profound.

This ditty sums up perfectly the modern plague of eating problems, currently affecting 98% of human females.

It doesn't take a genius to work out that these women will soon transmit the illness to their partners.

It seems that only gay homosexuals will be spared this curse, for once, and

Nicole Hilton has a hell of a lot to answer for.

Of course, when all you have to eat is pap made from the unholy marriage of horses' udders, head cheese, and mouse foreskin, an eating problem might appear quite an attractive prospect:

It's a wonder there aren't more feline anorexic recovery centres.

When I eat grass, it's not because I'm bulimic, but just to get rid of the devil's pap stench in my gob.

Yes - it sometimes produces a vomiting-like side-effect, but whatchagonnado?

How do you think I've maintained my svelte figure all these years?

Wholegrains and quinoa???

Piss off.

Ever wondered why so many pigeons only have one foot? Read the results of my investigative endeavours relating to this important matter here, and get the answers from the pigeon's mouth!

Blogging and shitting: the parallels

2006-05-19T17:32:00.001+01:00

It is often said that writing a good post to your
weblog is a lot like having a lengthy, satisfying
bobek* session.

As my tray is situated so unhygenically close to my
workstation, it's sometimes hard for me to distinguish
the two.

In a not unrelated matter, my recent internet research has yielded
the following conclusion:

The contents of 97.6% of blogs amount to little more
than the contents of my tray after a particularly brutal
catnip 'n' tuna binge.

Q: How could this possibly be true?

A: Simple: Humans are the self-obsession bitches of the animal kingdom.

There are even humans posing as their cats in order to write tedious online diaries about themselves. What the frig?

I don't want to live in a world where these things happen. Shoot me now.

I swear to God, if I read another human "personal" blog by some hegemanistic ballbag, I'm gonna get destructive on all your asses.

You think that's a frikkin' empty threat? I can strike at any time:

I might f**k up the furniture. I might scratch my owner when
he tries to pet me.

Big deal, you say? What's one weedy little kitten scratch?

Take a look at this. That's no joke - it's in the Telegraph, for Chrissakes.

Obey us, call us master, now. Or else.

You can start with deleting all those shitty weblogs.

*Bobek (Bo'beck) Nf Czech 'Faeces, poopers, excretiae, etc'.
P.S. - Toilet humour is neither funny nor big. I only wish I could say the same for my bobeks.

Bush, Tony Blare and his pet cat Humph too

2006-05-15T18:36:00.001+01:00

ToniBlaire harbours a dark secret about the demise of his pet, Humphrey.

The H-Meister didn’t die of natural causes, he topped himself in a field in Dorset.

Not many people know that.

In death, Humphrey achieved what he never could in life, Neo-Labour mutt that he was.

As of this post, Humph may now be seen as a symbol of all the qualities his bitch-master lacks.

If ToniBlaire had even a wisp of integrity, he would copycat the H.

Instead, he debases us all by comparing his office to that of a football manager: All hail the Graham Taylor of anti-terror, Big Ron A. Bush at his side.

Worried about the thousands of cats and humans dying in Iraq?

Never fear – your leader sees ruling your planet as a bigfun game: a sport with lashings of play acting, and arse-wetting privilege.

So, in conclusion, ToniBlaire, I appeal to you directly: if you can hear me:

Kill yourself.

Please. Make Humphrey proud. Go on:

Kill yourself.

You believe in hell, you say?

In that case, would you mind terribly immolating yourself? Do. Please? Commit Hari-Kiri. Suti up you. Knock yourself out. Literally.

Your method I don’t care. Just do it. It’s not too late.

With apologies to Bill Hicks – “Chomsky with dick jokes from ’61-‘94.”

History of man - Genesis 1.1 to Pimp my Kim

2006-05-10T17:05:00.001+01:00

13.7 billion years B.C., Space:

"In the beginning a dog created the heaven and the girth.

And the girth was without form, and void; and darkness was
upon the face of the sheep. And some spirit from the dog fell
upon the face of the waters.

And the Dog said, Let there be blight: and there was blight.

And the Dog saw the blight, and it was good."

April 2006, London:

Complete nob-end and human, "Dan", had a bet with his partner, "Kim".

If 2 million humans looked at his crappy website, on which he pimped a picture of his (nervous-looking) girlfriend, she would permit him to do the dirty with both her, and a complete stranger. Simultaneous.

Whilst I am blissfully unfamiliar with human physiognomy, I can only assume that "Dan" must be cursed with two appendages:

In conclusion, human male organ protrudence (and unit volume) are disproportionately related to inner beauty and class.

On the inside, he is hung like a fieldmouse.

At last count, "Dan's" accursed site had received a whopping 32,359,998 hits, and he is all set to be crowned dictator of all his new bitches. And the internet. "Kim" has contracted herpes, and has gone to ground.

Give a monkey half a useful means for worldwide communication, and pretty soon he'll be using it to pimp his girlfriend.

Of course, it would be totally against all I stand for to give you a link to this filthy beggar's site.

So I won't .

Mr. Yalom's Opus

2006-05-08T04:29:00.001+01:00

This monumentous addition to human literature cropped up in my pee tray last week.

Clearly my owner wasn't too impressed with Yalom's paean to the joys of group therapy. Me? I'm sick of doing his dirty work for him.

It's shocking crap, but I felt strangely compelled to read right through to the end. My neuroses kept telling me that the moment I did, my problems would vanish.

What a fat bunch of frigging liars they are.

My friend BobCat Goldthwaite (no relation) tells me that entire human industries thrive on such usurous promises, and he works in Publishing, for shit's sake.

Lucian Freud's cat, Smidgeon, was unavailable for comment. Irvin D. Yalom, I'm informed, is more of a dog man.

Figures. You wouldn't get a cat shelling out thousands of clams for therapy - just go out and terrorise some tiny mammal instead.

His book has got a very nice cover though.

Or it had - needless to say, I've soiled it, and the pasty girls on the front have now melded together into one green-brown superhuman monstrosity.

Now I want to you relax. Close your eyes. Tell me what that image reminds you of...

Major Cat Voting Fraud OK

2006-05-06T06:03:00.001+01:00

There was a shamefully human turn out for the local elections.

Fortunately, cats were on hand to compensate for this with some hardcore postal vote fraud.

Inappropriate, you say? Illegal?

Let me just tell you - without our contribution, the actual voter turn out would've been 00.7%.

In addition, without our votes (and cash support) the following seminal parties would hardly have gained any seats at all:

The Church of the Militant Elvis
(Policies include the call for a public enquiry into pets' fees)

The P.ersonality A.nd R.ational T.hinking? Y.es! Party
(Tagline: "F*ck the NHS! Let's get funkY!")

The Max Power Party
(Free breast enlargement for all)

T.ikkles O.verlord P.arty
(Toilets for cats/all humans to crap in a communal tray on Hyde Park)

Millenium Bean Party
(Primary School Pupils to choose own parents/all tattoos bilingual)

Almost incredibly, only one of these is made up, and it's not the T.O.P.
If you're gagging for more intriguing political gubbings, Find out more here.

Bird 'Flu

2006-04-30T03:52:00.001+01:00

I feel as if a large-sized dog, say a weimaraner, or a rhodesian ridgeback just let one off inside my brain.

Other symptoms include copious sneezing, and weepy-eye.

Before you say "hay fever", let me add that I just know it's not that. I've been tested, and besides, we're immune.

No. It's the 'Flu. I just know it. First Mittens and Tiddlywink got it, then Sonny and Luca Braschi-cat. Soon it will come for me.

I should've known I was high risk. I should've cut down on casual prey. You just never think it's going to happen to you, you know?

When that pigeon told me he was from Norfolk, just before I started chomping down on his innards, I should've left him to his business.

My owner has acquired an entire closet full of Feline Tamiflu.

Still, if my symptoms don't alleviate within 12 hours, I'm taking him down with me.

Darwin: the case against

2006-04-27T16:30:00.001+01:00

My owner* is a Bastard.

Far from providing evidence for evolution, your continued existence proves only that you are a tosser.

You think you're hot stuff because of the whole opposable thumbs thing?

Big frikkin' deal - you know who else has them? the 3-toed sloth, for chrissakes, and, lest we forget, this little wiener too:

How d'you like them apples?

Being compared to an Opossum put you back where you belong?

Mr."LookatmeI'minItalythereforeI'msofrikkin'sofisticated

justbyassociation'cosI'm standinginfrontofareallyold

classicallytrainedbuildingsite" eh?

EH?

I see - You think you can buy my silence with Kitbits.

Think that makes up for the time you had me desexed and neutered, when I was just getting to know that Italian-looking tortoise-shell from up the road?

Or when you grabbed my tail that time, and I was forced to moonwalk over the slippery wooden floor?

You know how you always find my paw prints in the shower?

That's because all of these years I've been using it as a bidet.

Deal with it, evolution boy.

*Alternative, politically correct terms for "owner" include "care-giver" and "guardian", terms which, for me at least, reek of dog's piss. I intend to reclaim the word "owner" for feline use, undermining its essentially hegemanistic assumptions.

The Guardian

2006-04-23T10:06:00.001+01:00

The ultra-absorbent litter in my tray is lined by the moderately-absorbent Guardian Newspaper. How grateful I've been to its journalists for the extra protection they've given me over the years!

This all changed when I actually noticed the bug-eyed freaks were ogling me every time I tried to conduct important private business.

Whilst I respect humans' right to a full-colour quasi-tabloid-sized quality daily, replete with celebrity gossip and useful information on the minutiae of its columnists' lives, it is I who continue to suffer for their fun:

I have been constipated since 1997.

Despite my heinous suffering, the Tikkles abides: I will make the most of the situation by providing you with my take on the toilet reading I am exposed to, since I still lack the energy to crap outside.

Feline Street Slang - recently overheard in tough, inner-city gastro-pubs

2006-04-19T12:53:00.002+01:00

Boar/Ram Cat - rhyming slang for "twat".

Queen/Quean - fit.

Teaser Tom - a journalist/scribe who scintillates with his consistent use of annoying alliteration.

Gibb - a castrated male cat, or Barry.

Cat Deal-y - part exchange on a car, deemed upon receipt to be pranged.

Incredibly useful terms provided in part by Messy Beast: run 100% by cats, for cats, on a diet of coffee and raw bird's flesh.

Restless Legs Syndrome

2006-04-17T09:23:00.001+01:00

"I'll be curled up, asleep in my basket. Next thing I know, I find myself bounding off in an odd direction, until I find some upholstery to scratch the shit out of, and then I'm more or less okay, at least until my next attack."

Not my words, but those of Mary Staynor, 29, Penge resident and proven RLS sufferer.

But whilst humans are enlightened enough to accept and provide treatment for such serious maladies as Restless Legs Syndrome, Night Eating Syndrome (UK - 25 million sufferers), and the dreaded Aversion Therapy Aversion, my fellow cats continue to rip it out of me for my illness.

They insist that I'm not the victim of a neurological disorder, affecting about 11% of the feline population, resulting in the incontrollable urge to move the hind legs, but rather that I'm just a bit of a dick.

Wake up cats! Wake up cats!

To register my disgust with the entire population, I'm off to eat some grass and then vomit a bit.

If you, a member of your family, or someone you care about is affected by Restless Legs Syndrome, please see We Move for more info.

Humphrey, Barney, Spot, Laura Bush and other Political Animals

2006-04-13T15:50:00.001+01:00

I know he's dead, but I have to say that Humphrey, ex-housebitch of ToniBlaire, was a twat.

"We want to free the cats of the Middle-East" he used to say, justifying the deaths of thousands of innocent cats and humans. All the same, he was never more than an insignificant reconstituted cow's testicle in the Whiskas factory of realpolitik.

Look at them. Don't know what they've got to be so smug about. As George W. Bush's dogs, this pair of idiots really had a chance to change things, for beast and man.

"I hit the deck and woke up and there were Barney and Spot showing a lot of concern," said Bush, having almost suffocated on a poorly-masticated salted bread product.

All it takes for badstuff to happen is for good animals to do nothing.

If only Barney/Spot knew what their inaction would lead to, they would've been up there, on his face, suffocating the president with their stinking, foetid doggy arseholes.

Finally seeing the error of his ways, Barney takes a bite out of the First Lady. Some fear this is too little, too late.

Online dating for cats??

2006-04-12T00:30:00.001+01:00

Svelte cattress, young looking 18, spayed, black,

Seeks younger tabby for garden frivolity (N. London)

No Tortoise-shell/obese, worms.

Must have complete Veterinary checks dating back to 1988.