I have a Rubik’s cube at my my current Dad’s house. I can do one side it, and even though that is incredibly easy, I am proud. I have to do a Rubik’s cube because my Dad doesn’t have electricity so I can’t charge my laptop. That’s not exactly true, but he doesn’t have an Internet connection. He is some sort of caveman.
Did you hear about the dyslexic who wanted to play with men’s balls? He accidentally joined the textile industry.
My current Dad was talking about fate and karma and I said it was rubbish, because it obviously is. He said “but you don’t even believe in psychic powers”. I asked him if he believed in God, and he said he doesn’t believe in something he can’t see. I don’t think he was even winding me up.
I saw an advertising broadcast on the television for a company called Trivago. No matter how they pronounce it, the word still has vag in it. Trivago doesn’t sound so much a travel company as some sort of Greek demon with three vaginas. Those creatures with one vagina are bad enough, so imagine how much trouble one with three would be. I don’t actually know if woman are bad because I have no first hand experience, but I’ve heard you can’t trust them.
I’m bald now, but only because this CIA agent took my wig. What is a secret agent’s favourite game? I spy. A spy’s favourite video game is Spyro the Dragon. The problem with Spyro is that it was too long. It really did drag on.
I was thinking about USB connection and how bad the design is. They should make it so it doesn’t have rotational symmetry, or make it orientation independent. Remember SCART leads? The Red Hot Chilli Peppers band had that song about some sort of SCART issue, didn’t they? What amazes me is composite video carried via a single RCA cable and how using just a single pin it has to carry not only the colour of each point on the screen which is already comprised up of different channels, but also pulses so it knows where to put the colour. I am amazed by technology, but then I don’t even understand electricity.
Some cunt sent me an e-mail about why porn was bad so I am trying to cut down on porn. I only had one wank today and didn’t do it all yesterday. It would be much easier if I had one of those things with the hole in, but I don’t think I will be getting one of them any time soon. I can’t believe I used to have a girlfriend.
Another day on the roller-coaster that is life. I think my life is like one of those kids’ roller-coasters which is shaped like a train and has no ups or downs and just stays on the same level going at about 3 miles an hour. Also, my life is like a kids’ roller-coaster in that I always have kids riding me. It’s a shame, because it is very hard to have sex with children in the modern World. I’ve come up with a foolproof plan, though. Firstly, I will paint myself invisible like water. Then I will lose a lot of weight so I can fit in some pipes. Then I will hide in a family’s boiler and slide through the pipes when I hear a child having a bath and then come out the taps and then crawl all over the child’s naked body and then inside the child’s young anus, and that is where I will work my magic. 10 seconds later when I have prematurely ejaculated, I will exit the anus and then do my duty as water and clean the child, before making my getaway by slipping down the plughole. That is how I plan to sexually abuse kids. I bet Jimmy Saville wishes he had thought of that, but instead he stuck with his solid form. I will become my liquid form and become the greatest nonce in all the land. There is definitely a film there.
I was going to do a film poster so I searched “child in bath” in Google, and it came up with child pornography. It is definitely explicit, because if I turn safe search back on, the picture of the sexy little girl’s nipple goes. The source is a stock photo Web-site that I am all too familiar with, since I noticed they portrayed an HIV in a particularly undignified and disrespectful way. I know I was saying just now about how I want to molest kids, but now I think I should delete it because I might now be under investigation. If you’re reading this, officers, I don’t want to molest kids by taking on my liquid form. I don’t even have a liquid form. My form is firmly solid and hard, I make sure I am hard whenever I am around children. Back on Google, if you start following the related searches, you can see all sorts of naked kids. It really makes me wonder how anyone could be a paedophile. Having sex with a child is like having sex with an ant. Imagine if you had sex with an ant and it got trapped in one of your testicles.
I am homo now. I am using my Mum’s homo right now. My Mum’s homo is warm and iniviting. As I was coming in my Mum’s homo, I think I damagod tho “o” koy on my laptop, so now it comos out as an “o”. Oh look it’s fixed. My Mum took me out for a meal down the pub while still in Derby. I had ham and chips. It’s weird eating meat when you think of it as part of an animal.
I was bored in a computer lesson the other day and made this:
My greatest achievement
“You sir, what do you do for a living?” “I’m in oil.” “Are you a Mexican in a petrol tanker explosion?”… What do you call a Mexican exploded so all his guts are hanging out? A taco… I hate Mexicans. It’s hard to hate Mexicans, though, because that makes me racist, and being racist is hard. I have to keep my beliefs hidden, because whenever I tell someone I’m a racist, they judge me. There are laws keeping me from saying what I really think. Being a racist is the new being black.
Today will be my last full day in Derby, and therefore the last day if my first year at university. It is the most expensive thing on which I have ever wasted money. Hopefully, I can just scrape by these next couple of years and then go into my true calling: drag car racing. I suppose at least this year has been a year full of new experiences for me. I had my first KA Black Grape juice carton; I had my first Red Bull… that’s pretty much it. My life will be so much better when I’m dead.
I headed down to pussy central today – the library. The bitches seem to love it down there. I was there doing some shitty group work about some shit or some shit, and I think I only saw 2 other males of about the 30 other people in there. It was really hard to work with my massive one inches erection weeping pre-cum like an Christmas orphan. I get an erection just by looking at girls. One day, I will print off a fake cover to a book called “How To Cope With Being Really Rich And Having A Massive Cock And Having All That Other Shit That Drives Bitches Wild” and slide that over another book that I pretend to read at the library. Then, all the honeys will be swarming round me like bees round honey. Nah, that’ll never work.
I made some soup today from last night’s kebab. When wiping, I noticed a bit of green vegetable. I don’t remember eating health. I thought that maybe it was from yesterday’s pizza, before remembering that I had a kebab. I think maybe my kebab was contaminated with some vegetables. Last time I went there, I was sick, as you may remember, so accidentally eating a bit of health is certainly an improvement.
I felt adventurous today so I went out and bought a large kebab with barbecue sauce. You never get oven sauce or toaster sauce, do you? What’s that all about?
While drifting off to sleep, I was thirsty so I got up to get some water, because I didn’t have any real drinks, and who should I find skulking about near my bed, but a little starch thief silverfish. I thought he might crawl on me in my sleep and I didn’t want to accidentally crush him, so I tried to scoop little Simon up with a piece of paper, but he ended up on my bed. Even though someone being on your bed counts as consent, I didn’t have sex with him because it might have hurt the poor guy, and he could have burrowed up into my urethra and through the loop-the-loop that is my vas deferens and then settled in one of my testicles, which is possible as both are entirely hollow, apart from the semen sloshing about at the bottom.
While living in one of my testicles, Simon could subsist on my starchy semen, while wanking off his little silverfish cock or having little silverfish wet dreams, thereby producing semen of his own. Then, if a woman were ever to let me inseminate her, most likely by passing out in my presence, Simon’s semen could travel along the path through which Simon originally entered and penetrate the lady’s egg. Over the next 3 months, I imagine, a mutant silverman would grow inside her, which might one day grow up to seek out the man who raped his father. I do not know what the spawn of a human and a silverfish would be, and I do not want to know. Alternately, Simon may actually be a lady silverfish. She may become impregnated while she resides in one of my testicles, and then grow a little silverman in her womb. This would cause her to rip which would certainly be fatal, and then one of my testicles would become a makeshift womb. It would swell to the size of a baby silverman, and, after about 4 or 5 months I reckon, when the time came to give birth to my silverman child, I would have to try to squeeze him or her out of my penis, which would hurt. That is why I did not try to have sex with Simon.
Anyway, I had to get Simon off my bed before I lost him in one of the folds. I managed to trick him onto my finger. I tried to escort him out the window, but he crawled under my finger, and when I looked, he had vanished. Where had Simon gone? I looked all over the floor, trying to spot Simon amongst all the clothes fibres and bits of crisp and leaves. I couldn’t find him. After what felt like a few minutes, but was probably only one, I had to call off the search. To this very day, I do not know what happened to Simon, but I will never forget him.
While writing this, I wondered what I would do if Steven had actually entered my penis. I think I would assume the press-up position and shake vigorously. Failing that, I would wait until I needed to piss and hope he came out then. If not, I would have the most embarrassing trip to the doctor since the last time I got an insect trapped inside my genitals.
I wish I was an alcoholic. I like being drunk, but I feel bad about getting drunk on my own. If I was an alcoholic, I would have an excuse. At the moment, I can use the excuse that I have no friends to drink with. I don’t have an excuse for that, though, other than being a dick.
I went to bed this morning at about 8. I had to do some group project at 10, but it ended up cancelled so I stayed in bed. I got 6 Bulmers at 8 in the evening but I only had 4. That was enough. What’s the deal with the image on the back of a Bulmers? I’ve seen images like it on a lot of places. It’s just some really pixelated black and white image with little squares in the corner. Maybe it is a mind control image by Bulmers. They are definitely up to something.
Some research or some shit shows that white British is a minority in London. That is good because minorities are allowed to be racist. I was listening to some rap the other day and it’s just all the same to me, just like the people who make it. The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People are racist. The name suggests that colored people need to be advanced, rather than attitudes towards them. As a coloured man myself, I find that offensive. Admittedly, I probably haven’t had any coloured relatives since people stopped being black thousands of years ago, but I still consider myself black, because it doesn’t even matter about the colour of your skin. Rap singer Ice T is meant to be black, but he really isn’t; he is just a honkie poser. I hate it when white folk pretend to be black. Ice T is just a faggot. He used to just be called Mister T, but then Ice cube came and went inside T so then he became Ice T. Vanilla Ice watched and masturbated his little white boy dick.
I see some goalposts have been blown by the wind and hit a fan. I think the fan was causing the wind in the first place, because he is a fan.
I had a microwave pizza today, which means I microwaved an oven pizza. That is about all I did.
Why the fuck do some alcohol bottles have paper around the lid cap so you get paper in your mouth when you drink it? It would be like opening a bag of bread under some sand so then all sand went in the bread and you ate sand. It’s ridiculous and pointless. Any company who does this is run entirely by paedophiles. All of Bulmers are paedophiles. On the back of a bottle of pear Bulmers it says “Bulmers №10” implying some sort of link with the UK government. I think the paedos at Bulmers have put some mind control drugs in it so then we vote for the government and then they it will be like 1984. I sort of would like that. There would be an element of danger which would be interesting. I sometime wish life was more like the olden days like from off the Oblivion game or Red Dead Redemption game. Even life like in Fallout would be interesting. If life was really like that, though, I would probably just be hiding in a corner eating mould.
Just one more assignment due in, and then it will be Summer. Three or so months on which I can reflect and regret not making the most out of the time. I could write a book; I could cure cancer; I could go into outer space, but I won’t do any of them. I’ll just sit about, wasting my life while masturbating my limp cock and making shit music while wishing I was dead. This diary is like the longest suicide note ever. Every day is full of reasons why I’ll kill myself.
Yesterday at Phil’s place there was a poster with chat-up lines on it. I tried one on one of the girls there but it didn’t work. I noticed the list didn’t contain my favourite line “Do you want to see some puppies?”
There is show on called Blachman where some man looks at naked woman and judges them. It’s like a live version of this Brass Eye thing. I have an idea for a similar show in which I have sex with naked women. I would definitely watch that.
Katy Perry’s Dad has called her a “devil child“. Surely, if she is the child of the Devil, doesn’t that mean that her Dad is calling himself the Devil? If he thinks he’s the Devil, he is even more mentally ill than he is for believing in the Devil.
Have you noticed how FHM’s sexiest women in the World are always already known for something else? None of them are just secretaries or roadsweepers or anything. I also think it is sexist because none of FHM’s sexiest women are men.
Today my work was due in. I handed it in and suggested we go to the pub. Only six of us went, though. I had four pints of Strongbow and all I had to eat before was some strawberry straws. I finished off half a bottle of Bulmers too. Then I went to the fish and chip shop with Phil and had a sausage. Then I went back to his and played COD against bots. I was good, but then they were on easy. I tried some Luxembourgi Diekirch beer. It was just like Fosters. I went home and dropped my glue stick off and just wanted to stay at home, but it was the day of the product design event in Coyote Wild so I had to go out.
I got a couple of Scottish eggs on the way so I wouldn’t have an empty stomach. A scumbag came up to me and asked for money. He said he needed money for a taxi. I said he should walk. He said he had to get home quickly because he had an ankle tag. I said that he should just run and he should be used to running if he’s a criminal. He said he wasn’t a criminal and that he had been done for driving while drunk. I said I didn’t have any money, but I did.
I got to Coyote Wild at about 8. Hardly anyone was there until 10. I lost loads of money on the quiz machine and spoke to Rhia and chatted up some girlfriends of people on my course and it was an OK night. I held a girl’s hand but only because I was losing an arm wrestle against her. Some man was chatting me up. I would have sex with a man just to see what it’s like. I think I had 4 or 5 double vodka and cokes until about 2 when I just got bored and left.
There is no way I can pass this innovation module. For a 2,500 word report, I submitted something that was less than 1,250. That’s only worth 35% of the module, but seeing as I got 36% on part of it which was worth 30%, and I won’t get a high mark for the other 35%, I will fail this module. I keep hoping that something good will happen where I don’t have to do this shit, but other than robbing a bank or taking someone hostage, it looks like this will be my future. I think they should make a university course where you are actually graded on what the course is about, rather than the essay you write about it.
I remembered the time when I went for a job interview up in London for some shit job. They asked me how I had got there and I said by train. They asked what kind of train it was and I said something like “they’re all the same”. It was then I remembered that I was applying for a job working with trains. I didn’t get the job, and it was probably because I was racist against trains within the first minute. I should have just quit then. If I had got the job, history would have been different. If I ever get a Bernard’s Watch, I will experiment with chaos theory and just move stuff about on tables and shit then go forward in time to see if it actually makes a considerable difference. I am a bit worried that I would definitely play tricks on myself if I had a Bernard’s Watch. I would probably just really fuck with my own head by hiding all my stuff so I thought I was going mad. I might give myself a chance so I only go back in time to myself when I had the watch so I don’t genuinely go mad. I might be mad already, though, because I am talking about this as if it is likely. I am 80% sure that time travel is impossible.
Another thing I remembered was the first day of having a girlfriend. She asked if there was anything wrong with her, and I said she was a bit fat. It was then that I learned that all relationships should be built on lies. That is why I have only had one girlfriend since. I am just too honest. And ugly. And a cunt. And gay.
There are even more people getting done for noncing up kids. Is it some sort of initiation ritual for being on TV? I think other celebrities who will be arrested for being paedos are Paul O’Grady, Robbie Williams and Andrew Lloyd Webber. Only Andrew Lloyd Webber actually did the crimes that I have accused him of, though.
I was having a wank and my chest was really hurting. I thought it might be a heart attack, but decided it was probably just my heart struggling to push all the fat through my arteries. I realised that I think I would be too self-conscious to call an ambulance if I genuinely thought I was having a heart attack. I looked on the NHS to see if I actually was having some mild heart attack. One of the symptoms is an overwhelming feeling of anxiety
. I never would have thought that. I thought that you wouldn’t really be bothered while your heart was dying. I did smile when I read the line about anxiety, though, so that’s how I knew I wasn’t having a heart attack.
How is someone woman from an eponymous comic strip riding the London Underground similar to an old technology of television? Cathy Rode Tube.
I reviewed different apples the other day. I thought it was pointless because it is hard to be objective about a single taste, especially with something as basic and familiar as an apple. The BBC have taken it a step further and reviewed different waters. They are wind-up merchants. All water is the same. It is nothing. It is water. It tastes of two hydrogens and one oxygen. The BBC are wasting taxpayers money. I think the BBC actually stands for Bloody Bloody Cunts, and not in a sexy period way.
Why does gov.uk look like a domain squatting page? The layout and links on it just make it look like on of those squatting pages. I haven’t seen one of them lately. I can’t think why that would be. I think it was because I used to search a lot for sites that offered me what I need when I need it, and now all I do on the Internet is look at porn.
Tuesdays are my greatest fear, because we have a lesson in Room 101. We used to anyway; today is the last lesson in 101 because it’s the last proper week. It’s holidays soon. That will be good. I always want to do something when I have a massive length of time, but I never do. I might redo the Casio MT-800 EP I recorded last time I was home. I really didn’t like it.
Andy let me have a go on his bike today, and I don’t mean he let me have sex with his Mum. From the 20 or so seconds on that bike, I now know I am shit at riding a bike. It didn’t help that he is about 8 feet high, give or take about 2 feet, and so my feet barely touched the floor. It was good riding a bike, though. It was just like San Andreas.
Caroline Banana has been doing some fraud. Her mother was a human, and her father was a banana, and she is the half-human, half-banana spawn of the two. You may be thinking that if she is half-banana, she should look Chinese rather than black. Maybe she was yellow, but she’s been uneaten for so long that she’s started to turn brown. I think we have learned a valuable lesson that bananas are not trustworthy. Just imagine how evil the child of two bananas would be. On a serious note, is it actually possible for a woman to get pregnant from a banana? More importantly, can a man get pregnant if he inserts one up his arse? If it is, it will be difficult to explain to my little banana child that I ate his mother after the conception.
Talking of bananas and bent things, Jason Collins, a basketball player, has come out. It is obvious he would be gay, as his father is called Jason, and his mother is called Colin. He said “I’m a 34-year-old NBA center. I’m black. And I’m gay.” It is good how he felt the need to clarify he is black for those who didn’t realise. I bet it was obvious he was gay too. I reckon he came onto the basketball pitch with his lover or just a male prostitute and performed homosexual acts with him in front of everyone in order to come out, but the Americans, who are all stupid, remember, didn’t realise that it meant he was gay.
Talking of stupid people, some football man regrets booking Reginald D. Hunter due to reasons to do with racism. Maybe he hired him because he thought he was a hunter. His father was old from a region, and his mother was a hunter. Reg used the word “nigger”. There are two reasons why a word could cause offence. It could either be the word itself, or the meaning of the word. The way that very few sources actually use the word “nigger”, opting instead for the vague “n-word”, which could mean “ninny” or “necrophile”, when reporting it implies that the word itself is an offensive swear word. Hold that thought. Hunter was apparently using the term nigger to refer to black people. Talking about black people is not racist. The people hiring him said that swearing or any racist references were to be avoided
. Nobody is mentioning that he swore by saying nigger, but that what he said was racist. I think that anyone offended is an idiot, which is mainly just the head of Kick It Out. A statement by them says “Kick It Out condemns racial slurs, the use of the n-word irrespective of context”. By searching for “site:kickitout.org nigger”, I found 25 results on Kick It Out’s own Web-site using that word. Irrespective of context, whoever put that word on those pages of kickitout.org is racist. Write a complaint to them accusing of them of racism. It is ironic because probably, and I am speculating here, the football bosses only chose him because he was black and American to show how double unracist they are, but maybe I am just being cynical. I think there has been a lot of fuss about nothing. I’m on Reginald D. Hunter’s side on this. He is a good nigger.
I’ve spoken a lot about racism today. Racism permeates every aspect of life. Even my shirt says “Wash with similar colours”. Wouldn’t it be better if the World was just a washing machine with the whites and the colours all jumbled up and all rubbing up against each other in a big wet mess? Yes, yes it would.
The other day, I thought I heard someone’s alarm going off. It was quite loud and I thought it sounded a lot like some music I had done so I took my phone out to record it so I could sue someone for copyright infringement and get infinity moneys, but then I realised it was just my phone playing music without my permission.
Amazon sometimes send me e-mails about offers tailored just for you
. When they say “you”, they mean “me”. I don’t think I’ve bought enough on Amazon for them to judge me, so they’re really just guessing what I might like. They are always wrong.
I should start thinking about getting some new accommodation for next year. I really don’t want to live with people, because I hate them. I might try to get Mick Philpott’s old house. A lick of paint and it’d be good as new. I’d have to get rid of all the burnt toys in there, though.
Looks like Ben Affleck, who has Benin films, is Ghana only spend $1.50 a day on food… for five days. That is pathetic. It should be for at least a month. You could not eat for five days and survive. The $1.50 a day that the poor have has to go on clothes and houses and all sorts. I think, rather than this futile gesture, he should be made to do a show called Uganda Have Togo Sierror Aleone; Kenya Rwandle It?, in which he has to go to see the error of his ways by being alone in an African countries. An African family go to live in his house, and he goes to live in their mud hut. The Africans can eat what they like, but he only is allowed $1.50 each day. The money is given to him in dollars, which probably aren’t accepted in Eritrea or whatever, so he has turn to prostitution to live. The thing is, it’s much cheaper to live in most of Africa, so $1.50 a day is probably equal to about $150 a day over there. Lucky Africans.
I don’t have to live on $5.00, so I went to Sainsbury’s and got some sausages and cheese and milk. I chose not to have a bag like I often do and the old Indian lady in the shop said I was friend of the planet. I said yes, but secretly I hate the planet. Walking back, some drunk man in a group came up to me and said Get some milk
, I just said “What?”, because it didn’t make any sense. He said it was a joke and then went into the pub. Some other man from the group stopped me and some bird said he was from Sunderland. It looked like he recognised me and he asked me if I knew that Michael Myers film
. I wondered if he was talking about the killer from the Halloween film but I think he meant the actor Mike Myers. I didn’t know which one he was talking about, and he couldn’t remember so he shook my hand and told me to have a nice night. What a nice man. Walking away, I realised he was probably talking about Austin Powers. What a cunt. I don’t even look like him, though, but my hair’s not long enough for me to be off Wayne’s World yet, and I really don’t think I look like Shrek. I will definitely get a haircut soon. On Monday, someone on my course said I look like a caveman.
Back home, I decided to do dinner. I can’t remember the last hot meal I had. I had a tuna sandwich the other day, but I didn’t drain the tuna, so it ended up as a sort of briny bread soup and tuna mess. My baking tray has gone, so I had to try to fry the chips I bought ages ago with the sausages. I knew it wouldn’t work, but I wondered how much it wouldn’t work. They were mostly uncooked but burnt in places. I put some fajita powder on it all. That didn’t work either. It just burnt and made me choke on the smoke. The sausages came out alright, though, and so did the cheese I put with it. I couldn’t bring myself to eat all the chips. I really should just top myself.
If Baileys is a gay’s drink, then I am a massive bender. I wanted to try it because I seem to remember it being sweet. I remember the first time I was drunk; I was put in a cup and swallowed. The real first time I was drunk, I drank a little bit of each of my Mum’s alcoholic drinks. Baileys was one of them. I bought some Irish Meadow, which I thought was the same thing, and it was. It’s “Fresh Cream with White Wine and Irish Whiskey”. I don’t care if it contains liquid AIDS; it’s nice, and it’s about half the price of big gay Baileys at only £5.99. I got a couple of toffee apple ciders too, just in case the Irish Meadow tasted like grass and cowpats. I had meant to buy some food in the shop but I forgot and couldn’t be bothered to go back, but I didn’t need food, because I had alcohol – but not enough to make me sick. Today was a good day.
I had to throw out an orange and about two thirds of a slice of bread today because they just had got too mouldy. What a waste. It’s like that cheese I lost back on the Isle of Wight. I haven’t forgotten that. Mould is a little colony of organisms, so even if you have no health worries about eating a bit of mould, you are still destroying a civilisation. That makes you a genocidal murder – possibly worse than Hitler. You fuckers just eat the mould like you don’t care. You are definitely worse than Hitler. Nobody eats mouldy bread, though, apart from me, and I only eat it because my mind is broken and I think eating mouldy bread is a good thing.
I went out and got drunk today. Between going out and getting drunk, I bought some alcohol and came home again. I also had some roleplay sex with a girl on the street. I was pretending to be a rapist and she was pretending to be a rape victim. She was really good at it. It was definitely roleplay, though, because I was wearing a fake moustache and wig. I am trying to make rape funny again. I bought 3 pint bottles of Bulmers for five pounds. It’s alright, but it’s no toffee apple cider, I’ll tell you that for nothing. I got tired early so I went to bed at about 12.
I see in the news that there has been some news today. I think people would pay a lot more attention to the news if they only did it once a week. Having news every day just clutters everything up, but if they had news just on one day a week, and then the newspapers and news shows came out the next day, everything would be a lot neater. Fewer bad things would happen if they only had news one one day a week and the goodies could just stay inside on that day while the baddies go out and do bad news to each other so then there would be even less news eventually. I bet nobody listens to my idea.
My Dad said ages ago that if he wrote his life down, nobody would believe it. I asked him what was unbelievable about it and he said sex, drugs and rock and roll. I don’t know which of those is particularly unbelievable.
Unless my Dad’s not telling me about the time he saw God or got fingered by an alien, I would believe all his life. He did say he thinks he saw a ghost once, but he definitely didn’t.
*If you are reading this, Richard, I am willing to pop your bum cherry.