“There is nothing more daunting to a writer than a blank page” Bibianna Ringworm 1823

Luckily for me I’m not a writer, I’m primarily a care giver, receiver and lover of good crisps! Though the care I give usually comes in the form of helping my elderly father work the remote controls for the TV, Freeview box, Freesat box, Sky box, DVD, VHS, VCR, Blu-Ray, Curtains, Stereo, robot vacuum, retractable toupee conveyer belt and animatronic Margaret Thatcher doll. We really do have a lot of junk! And it mostly doesn’t work, mowestly!

I have a work hard, play hard attitude. For my work, as you all know, I make very popular YouTube videos of me and my father playing computerised video games! The 3 hours a week this takes is utterly exhausting. So to unwind, we will relax playing videofied computer game.

For reasons unknown to me I gave my father a challenge, to ‘create a new device but without using any existing technology’. This meant he couldn’t have it run on electric, clockwork or some such, he had to create a whole new power system. He tried, bless him. By the end of the week he had a lump of wood with some Marmite

smeared on one end and on the other was 4 pen lids. He broke down weeping as he presented it to me and Mother. When questioned what it was and what its purpose was, he simply said “tasty paperweight”.

But he is an idiot, I however am not, I’m really smart! And so, please, let me inform you of some new products I have to sell unto you, my dearest customer base. Pray, come sit a while and listen to my explanation, contemplation and remuneration of some products what I invented last Wednesday week!

Last Wednesday weak!

Picture the scene in your mind’s brain, a week ago last Wednesday you were woken early, perhaps your nipples had become too aroused, maybe your spouse kicked you in the vagina, or simply, you had solid night farts. So you were up at the ungodly hour of 8am! You skipped breakfast because your only son trapped his kneecap in the fridge and your frogs had burst. The traffic on the way to work was both horrific and slow, then all day at work your boss was riding your back.

The life of a race horse is frantic, hard and should you break a nail, ultimately fatal. But you’re not a horse. But you might feel like one if you have a hectic day for several days in a row. Which then leaves you weak since last Wednesday.

We now have for you a once in a life time offer of a shit load of energy drinks condensed down into a paste which you inject directly into your brain for added stimulation and stamina. 89% of users will think they are 4 Jesus’s and will begin baptising otters. 4% die instantly while the remaining percent go into coma’s*. £15 or there about!

*100% of users die within 78 hours

News Shoes

Shy? Socially useless? Foot fetish? Or have some other reason to be constantly looking at your own feet? Interested in local, internationally local and nation local news? Then news shoes are for yous! The shoe, which looks like a standard man’s brogue has a news ticker tape device subtly welded onto the side, meaning as soon as news has gone across the wire, it is printed out at your foots convenience. You can have optional extras, such as mild electrical shock for that important must see news alert. Or how about the open toad version, made from 100% pure toad skins. All the newest news, with all the style, sophistication and deliciousness of toad skin! £9.9.9

How’s your father?

This new application made exclusively for the iPhone, Android, Windows mobile, Linux and Windows desktop (and all Macs) will keep you updated with constant information on how your father is. The various data displayed are

• Waist measurement
• Affection level for ponies
• Back hair length and dispersal patterns
• Fear level of clowns, spiders, mimes and youths

  

• Fart release proximity
• Level of forgetfulness of how to use modern technology

All we require is a small chip to be replaced somewhere in your fathers skull hole (or to use the technical term ‘brain pouch’) this will send a signal to a small transmitter located in a bum bag (or for those of you in America ‘Vagina pack’) which then transmits a signal into a much large unit which your father will have to carry in a ruck sack (Ass satchel for our US cousins) which then transmits to your phone, computer or pocket otter. The whole package will set you back £400, with charges of £19.99 for the first 18 months, then your father is downgraded and your monthly charge will be £41 with the option for £19 if you want to pay us more.

I simply cannot abide it!

Miss Prissy is, not just in name, a very prissy miss! She’s a right proper little madam. She comes with 3 dresses, each adorned in bows, frills and ruffles. She comes with her own little house, a nice 18 bed roomed mansion, it’s dead posh! She also had a friend Mr Pert, who ironically isn’t pert at all. They are dolls of the most exquisite quality. You can’t have them! They are too nice for you, you’ll only get them dirty and being dirty is something Miss Prissy simply cannot abide!

Now that’s the products flogged to you, I’d like to discuss the very nature of the universe with you, the reason for existence and what is really going on and why.

But I’m thick as a brick in summer, so I’ll just make up a load of old bollocks

In the very beginning, before anything existed there was not nothing, yet there was not anything. There simply existed everything and yet nothing. It was a yellow colour, apart from the bits that had gone brown. Some parts were a colour you can’t visualise so I won’t be discussing those.

For a long time nothing happened. Yet in another sense everything happened! But in a more real sense absolutely naff all happened for a really long time, like, about 7 years!

Then one day, suddenly, for no reason, there was a burping sound, it lasted 40 months, and during that time, giant balls of hot light started appearing all about the place. They were bloody huge and really hot. Then as if from nowhere, a boardroom appeared, in time 50 old human men appeared, all in suits of material. And thus began the age of creativity.

The board men discussed everything and once they had talked about an idea, it burst into existence.

Ping pong, gold fish, the French, interchangeable screw driver heads, postage and packaging costs, tins of tuna, tuna, tuners, post it notes and the scaffolding work for the Hollywood sign.

Then three weeks later they invented death, sadly they all died later that day in an accident with the flying elephant gun knife they had invented that morning.

And so thus was everything created. For absolutely no reason.

So now if this is the only document to survive our civilisation that is what they might think we believed. Which someone might, I don’t know, people will believe any old cobblers. Which brings me to my final product to try and sell to you!

Any old cobblers

Contemplate this brain picture if you can. It’s 1940, you’re walking along a harbour, the waves smashing over the sea wall like Margaret Thatcher beating a well-wisher. Water is spraying it’s salty foam everywhere, the cold wind lashing at your cheeks, your exposed buttocks wobble in the harsh environment. You turn, begin to run, a wave breaks over the wall, water hits you, washing you away out to sea. You’re tossed this way and that, being pounded hard, as if being pummelled by giant salty fists. Fists pounding you hard and salty! You slip into unconsciousness.

You wake up, dry, in a hut, laying on a bed. There is a lit candle to your left and a window to your right. What do you do?

You look out of the window of course. You’re on a tropical island, palm trees, maidens wearing nothing but coconut bras and pants. A steel drum band is playing and ruining the atmosphere a bit. A man walks into the hut, he offers you a drink, you refuse, you’re angry, confused but not at all racist! You just don’t want the drink, it doesn’t look like it’s in a clean glass, and you don’t know where it’s been or what’s in it. What’s wrong with that? It’s not racist it’s just being careful about what you drink.

You walk outside and die because you were attacked by 400 mating spiders who bit you to death. And so, your belongings are sent to your relatives and as per your wishes, your shoes are given to any old cobblers. And that’s what this service is, as disposal method for your shoes when you die.

Fourteen quid!

Thanks,

Chubby P. Thax GCSE esq (Tesco club card) (license to imagine what a nipple looks like)