Recently I did a silly thing and now I'm beginning to blame my friends and family for it. I'm not used to putting blame on other people. I fuck up far too often to spend half my life pointing fingers. But this time I am. Sure, their hearts were in the right place, but perhaps their brain cells weren't. A shower of well meaning bastards, if you like. So what is this silly thing that I've done? Well, it's to enroll on a stand up comedy course at university. Look, if you can get university courses on Britney Spears and The Simpsons, then you sure as shit should be able to get university courses in Dennis Leary and John Bishop.
"That's the Way to Do It"
You see, people have long given me the impression that I am funny. That I am somehow amusing. That I make people laugh. That I'm like some kind of clown. Like some desperate, crack-addled homeless clown. What I don't think my friends realise is that people don't laugh at me. They laugh at me, which is completely different. Sometimes in bemusement, but most often in pity. I can't lie I'm excited, but I'm also hesitant at the prospect of making even more of an arse of myself than I already do. It's not the fact that it is taking place in a university that makes me nervous, afterall I've been to university before. Once you've sat in one hall full of people who thought they were complete smartarses, you've sat in them all, so nothing new to me there. No, it's the prospect of something else entirely which makes me nervous.
One of the things which makes new stand ups most nervous is the thought of getting a heckler in the audience. That doesn't bother me so much because I am quite adept at criticizing people. If they dare to be a smartarse then I'll verbally destroy them. Or failing that I'll just tell them to fuck right off. No, what terrifies me is not getting any laughs at all. Not one. No matter what I say the crowd just sit in complete silence as one joke bombs after another. Now that fucking terrifies me.
Would the Real Kieran Please Standup?
As I write this my first class is a couple of hours from now and I am sitting having a cup of coffee in some place belting out 1980's power ballads like there's no tomorrow, not knowing what to expect from tonight. And so I'll sit there and take it all in, the pearls of wisdom from a teacher who has been there, seen it, done it and bought the T-Shirt. And maybe one day I can buy a T-Shirt, but for now I'll sit here and sip this coffee, continue writing on this tablet thingy and try not to break down and cry when it's eventually my turn on stage.
***Update***
The night went very well indeed. The teacher Viv Gee was nice and encouraging. My fellow classmates were friendly, funny and supportive. I even felt comfortable enough telling everyone that this afternoon was spent explaining to my family priest how when I was 8yrs old, I once peed in my mum's kitchen bin when she was having friends around for drinks (but that's another story for another time).
There was a time when the word 'Troll' used to spark frightful images of ugly giants living underneath bridges waiting to eat poor unsuspecting children. Think Jimmy Savile with eczema. Then in the 1980's trolls would incur images of cute, loveable, little frizzy-haired dolls which had a permanent smile and were about as frightening as a sleeping kitten farting and waking itself up suddenly.
But now in the 2010's there is a new meaning of the word 'Troll'. This time it incurs images of spotty little sad acts typing on a keyboard and giggling at how clever they are, having mocked a family who just lost their child. Or having harassed some vacuous celebrity oxygen thief who neither knows of, or cares about, the existence of these bellends. The definition of 'internet troll' runs thus;
"An Internet troll, or simply troll in Internet slang, is someone who posts controversial, inflammatory, irrelevant or off-topic messages in an online community, such as an online discussion forum or chat room, with the primary intent of provoking other users into an emotional response or to generally disrupt normal on-topic discussion."
- Urban Dictionary
"I Love Annoying Pathetic Bastards"
These specimens unfortunately take advantage of peoples' right to free speech, by hounding either high profile celebrities, or worse, normal people and children who neither deserve it or asked for it.
It doesn't take much to set a troll off, as they seem to take the deepest offense for the slightest reason. I remember I was trolled for a while, and for literally the silliest reason. I tweeted a compliment about The Moody Blues song 'Nights in White Satin', but my autocorrect changed 'Nights' to 'Knights'. This was enough to set some Moody Blues fangirl off, and she became very abusive towards me initially for getting the name wrong, and then for unrelated subjects, commenting on tweets of mines which involved neither her nor the Moody Blues. I thought it was hilarious at first, before I finally got a bit bored of it all and blocked her. Thank fuck I didn't say that the song was shit.
Fathers Ted & Dougal Protest Against Internet Trolls
There have been several high profile cases of these smartarses being taken task by the courts and in some cases sent to prison. The initial reaction is to cheer them getting some kind of comeuppance. But in the cold rational light of day, to jail people for being arseholes with their mouth sits ill at ease with peoples' God given right to be arseholes at all. So perhaps a different kind of punishment is required. Perhaps temporarily banning them from owning or operating anything with an electric plug would be a start. At least it would prevent adding to the already overburdened prison system. On a negative note though, the disposable tissue and internet porn industries would take a hammering.
I'm sure that behind every high profile internet trolling case which hits the headlines there will be plenty of politicians ready with kneejerk soundbites declaring 'Things Must Change!'. They're about as effective as a sniper with a peashooter in the desert wearing a clown costume. They'd be as well taking a leaf out of Father Ted's book and waving homemade signs in Parliament in front of the cameras on Prime Minister's Questions reading 'Down with This Sort of Thing' and 'Careful Now'.
Brrrrr, it's bloody freezing outside! I want you to know that as I write this my penis has retracted up around my ribcage for warmth, and my nipples could cut diamond.
Yes, Jack Frost is here and he's in a foul mood. We're all living in a winter wonderland and news crews have been out in force to record footage of people struggling through 7 feet of snow, and pensioners landing on their arse because of icy patches. A little reminder to Sky News: this is not 'You've Been Framed', stick to dramatic headlines, hyperbolic soundbites and Kay Burley being a complete twat to her interviewees.
Winter isn't like 'The Snowman' cartoon, no matter how many choirboys sing in it. If you want more realistic lyrics then forget 'We're walking in the air', try singing this to The Snowman theme:
'I've fallen on my arse.
I think I have a broken hand.
The news crew waited there
to film me as I land'
But don't let Hollywood fool you, Jack isn't some white-haired Justin Bieber clone with some shitty tree branch as a magical walking stick. He doesn't have a hard as nails Santa
That's More Like It
and a creepy mute borderline sex offender Sandman as friends. Indeed, if they're out there, they probably think Jack Frost is as much of a twat as we think he is. No, Mr Frost is a withered, senile old bastard who is clearly a sadist. He won't care if you're 80yrs old and can't afford to pay your heating bill. So, if he doesn't care about your poor desperately vulnerable granny dying of hypothermia, do you think he will give 2 shits about you falling on your arse when you slip on some ice?
Sure, children love frosty mornings, snowy days, sledges, snowball fights and snowmen. But let's face it, that's only because children on the whole, are idiots. Just wait until they're being brought up on a disciplinary by Human Resources for being late to work, explaining (truthfully) that they got to work as soon as they could, and HR still threatening to fire them. Then the little fuckers will know what snow days are all about.
So gird your loins, put on an extra pair of socks and get out there. And if smug little children throw snowballs at you as you pass by, then make sure you throw one back as hard as you can. Just remember to put a razorblade in it. And if you end up on your arse, just curse Jack Frost and his curmudgeonly ways and promise him that if you two ever meet, you will cut his frostbitten testicles off.
Politics, eh? Isn't it just? I pride myself on being quite politically aware. As a result I hate politicians. I was taught that you should
always vote, no matter what. Afterall, it's what generations fought and died for
in the Hell that was 2 world wars. It's hard to argue against that but if you
will allow me to play Devil's advocate for a moment, I put it to you that if
those brave souls who crossed No man's land in the Somme, only to fall (thanks
to the incompetence and blind arrogance of their superiors) were alive to see
how politicians have behaved in recent years, they might not find very many of
them vote-worthy either. But enough of this soapboxery, I digress.
The Ladyboy's Not For Turning
Our current government are a coalition between the Conservatives (Or 'Tories'), and The Liberal Democrats. One could be forgiven for thinking that the Conservatives are a party of superiority and elitism in all walks of life. That may have been the case once, but the Tories have come a long way in a relatively short period of time. It was only 50yrs ago in the 1963 election for the Smethwick area, Conservative candidate Peter Griffiths campaign featured the slogan "If you want a nigger for a neighbour, vote Labour". Shamefully, they won. These days, any elitism that exists would be more along economic lines rather than racial ones. Still, since it is a new year, this is the perfect time to take stock of where this
nation stands politically, and for my regular readers from various countries
oversees who are not familiar with British politics, let me indulge you.
If you fancy voting, then there is a wide range of white, middle class, middle
aged, entitled gentlemen to vote for. Such fine specimens. And when I say
"specimens" I mean the kind you leave in a little jar for the
hospital to find out just how ill you are. Let me run through some of the main
parties and their leaders who regularly jostle for your vote.
First there is the leader of the Conservative party and our
current Prime Minister, Emperor David "Silence,
you lowly serf!" Cameron. Next, there is the leader (?) of the Liberal
Democrats, current deputy Prime Minister and Emperor Cameron's general
dogsbody, Nick "I remember when I
had a spine" Clegg. The leader of the opposition and The Labour
Party's chief is Ed "Little Boy Lost"
Miliband. If you are Scottish then you can vote for amateur Shrek lookalike and
Scottish First minister, The SNP's Alex "I'm William Wallace in a tie, you know" Salmond. Moving onto
the smaller parties, if you're a pious goody two-shoes then you can vote for
the tree hugging, hemp-wearing, baby seal petting Green Party. If you fancy
embracing your inner cunt and feel that Britain was better trading in slaves
and working them to death in foreign plantations, then you might want to shame
your family and ancestors by voting for the ultra right wing BNP's Nick "Hitler was just deeply misunderstood, the poor chap" Griffin. If fascism isn't for you but you still like plenty of xenophobia and bigotry, then you might like to try BNP-lite, the UKIP's leader Nigel "It's all Johnny-Bloody-Foreigner's fault" Farage.
Emperor Cameron (Conservatives).
"Wipe the Plebs Out. All of Them"
Our glorious leader. He who is from on high. The man with the
plan. Thatcher in mittens. Emperor David "Fetch me my hand gel Nicholas, I just shook a pleb's hand"
Cameron. Big Dave Cameron became leader of the Conservatives when he won their
annual "Posh Boy of the Year" competition. After capitalising on the unpopularity of the
previous Labour government in 2010 (Just like Labour's Tony Blair did in 1997)
David barely won the general election that year. It didn't go all Dave's way
however. Their was still enough people who voted elsewhere to ensure that the
Conservatives didn't get a majority. To get the majority he so craved, he was
therefore forced to jump into bed with, and make mad passionate love to, the
Liberal Democrats' Nick Clegg. But more on little Nick later.
And so Emperor crowned himself Grand Master of all he surveyed,
and a general king amongst men. Just like the Mafia however, every don needs a
chief enforcer. A man with no morals, who will get the job done regardless of
how many lives he ruins. Emperor Cameron found that man in fellow posh boy and millionaire and
his Sith apprentice George "The
great unwashed are only statistics afterall" Osborne, or to give him
his title Lord Darth Osborne.
Darth Osborne: The Emperor's Chief Enforcer
Osborne decided that the best way to lower
national debt and boost the economy was to cut public spending (especially for
those on benefits and the disabled who are forced to claim Disability Living
Allowance) by ridiculous levels. Darth Osborne's motto being "If they have no bread then let them eat
dust. Just let us tax it first". Cue a massive growth in emergency
food banks, unemployment soaring, record home repossessions and general social
unrest manifesting in various workers union strikes, public protests and in
some cases rioting in the streets. All in a day's work for the Emperor's own
Frank Nitti.
Nick Clegg (Liberal Democrats)
Nick Ponders the Tealady Vacancy
Nick "What is thy will,
oh mighty Emperor?" Clegg is possibly the biggest national
disappointment since Jemini came last in Eurovision 2003 with their musical
abortion 'Cry Baby' (no pun intended). Nick was once a shining light in British
politics, a young fresh-faced upstart who promised to shake up politics and destroy
the traditional two party politics in Britain. When the result of the 2010
election came in and with neither Labour nor Conservatives managing to win an
overall majority, Nick found himself in the extremely influential position of
kingmaker. Whomever he chose to form a coalition with would have to make
serious concessions to the Lib Dems in terms of policies. Labour, the Lib Dems
ideologically closest allies didn't negotiate too hard, as they probably
figured that a spell in opposition was best, since they had become so bloody
hated in Britain. And so it was left to the Conservatives. As most working
class people gnashed their teeth at the prospect of 4-5 years of Emperor
Cameron's rule, they held out the hope that Nicky boy would be a Conservatives
lion tamer, and put corks on the Emperor's horns.
Nicky Keeps Forgetting He's Not Conservative
Alas, to no avail. The first policy Nick wimped out on was his
opposition to the Conservatives promise to up student tuition fees. Next was
his backing of controversial reforms to the NHS championed by the Emperor, even
though Lib Dems party members voted against it. Nick has therefore spent the last year and a half being the
Emperor's mouthpiece and chief apologist, whilst methodically stealing supplies
from the stationary cupboard. This is because his political future looks as
likely as Costa Rica winning the World Cup, or The USA invading a country that
doesn't have any oil.
Ed Miliband (Labour)
Cracking Campaign Poster, Gromit!
Edward "Look Mum! I'm
in the House of Parleyment!" Miliband is the leader of the Labour
party, and as such is the leader of the opposition. This was achieved when he
stabbed his brother and fellow M.P. David, in the back because David kept
stealing his Matchbox cars. Ed snuggled up to the workers unions in his party
and won the leadership. Unfortunately for Ed, he always has an air of a
schoolboy about him. If you see footage of him on the news visiting some
factory/military base, or nursing home he always looks slightly panicked and
scared. Like a little boy who has lost his mum in Marks and Spencers but is
trying to put a brave face on it -look on any random Youtube clip and you'll
see what I mean. Some day soon I expect Emperor Cameron to get the better of
Miliband in Prime Ministers
Questions sufficiently enough to cause Ed to burst
into tears.
Ed Getting a Pasty & Cake With His Lunch Money
Eddy has an easy job right now. All he has to do is criticize
Emperor Cameron and Darth Osborne's treatment of the poor and working families
and tell the media that he would do things differently. He hasn't yet explained
exactly what he would do, but telling the press that the Conservatives are a
shower of absolute bastards seems enough for now. It's not all plain sailing
for Eddy-boy however, as he finds himself in a very awkward situation regarding
the unions who put him in power in the first place. Naturally, he is
politically centre in his ideology. However, as most unions are raving
socialist lefties, this puts him in direct conflict with his own supporters.
This became clear with the most recent spate of public sector strikes because
of the government's plans to screw over their pensions and their salaries. The
unions expected his full support. Instead, they got wishy-washy half-hearted
non committal responses. Obviously he just wanted to hide in his bedroom and
play with his Action Man until it all went away, the poor little lamb.
Alex Salmond (SNP)
Fffrrreeeeedooommm, Donkey!
Rabid Patriot and Jabba the Hut-alike, Alex "Why can't you understand we're being royally
shafted by Westminster, the bunch of horses arses" Salmond is the
leader of the ruling party in Scotland, the SNP, and as such is Scotland's
First Minister. As people in Scotland increasingly tired of Labour screwing
things up, increasing numbers of voters turned to the SNP. Enough turned in
favour of the nationalist party that they won an overall majority in the last
Hollyrood elections. The SNP seem to have done a decent job, although there is
the constant fear that they will sooner or later completely fuck things up for
themselves. SNP policies include free bus passes for the elderly and the
disabled, free medical prescriptions for everyone regardless of class, and
ensuring that further education for all, including college and university
students remains completely free.
Before embarking upon his political career, Salmond used to be an economist. This makes him a skilled debater and a formidable opponent during First
Minister's Questions. However, as a former economist, he is immediately placed
under suspicion of being a complete and total bastard. In their pursuit of
Scottish independence which they ardently believe will benefit Scotland, they
have penciled a referendum on independence in 2014. Battle lines have been
drawn on both sides, so expect constant "Yes!/No!", "It'll be
great/it'll be shit", "We'd thrive alone!/We're all gonna die!"
and so on.
Nick Griffin (BNP)
Vote For Me!
"Fucking cunt". "Wanking fascist scumbag".
"Cocksucking douchebag". And those are just the descriptions of him
on Twitter. Nick "Get out of my
country, you non-Caucasian, non-British toerag!" Griffin is the leader
of the ultra right wing party, the BNP. The BNP believe in freedom of speech,
freedom of movement and freedom for all. That's so long as you, your children,
your parents and your grandparents were born in Britain, are white, Christian
and will swear an oath of allegiance to Winston Churchill and the Queen.
It is believed that Griffin slimed his way out of a swamp
somewhere but apparently he was born like a human, from a lady's womb and
everything. Nick made his parents proud from an early age when he regularly
attended National Front meetings, which is like studying Sociology at
university, only a university for knuckle-dragging racist fuckrags.
Well Fuck You Too
After he figured he could get more success as an elder statesman
figure, Nick decided to go into politics, and muddy the British political gene
pool even further. And so now he looks for every last scrap of publicity he can
get, including posting the address of a gay couple on Twitter and encouraging
like minded troglodytes to go pay them a visit and give them "A bit of
drama". All because they won a court case against a B&B owner who
discriminated against them. Just to remind you all, this is 21st century
Britain we're living in. Go figure.
Nigel Farage (UKIP)
After a Tough Election Campaign
Imagine if Nick Griffin was a Conservative. That's Nigel. Nige is
pro-Union Jack, pro-monarchy, pro-scone, pro-Earl Grey tea and pro-bowler hat
and umbrella. He is anti-everything else. Nige's party UKIP believe that
Britain should leave Europe and say "Keep your sausages Kraut! We don't
need your garlic wreaths, Frog! We already have your curry recipes
Sanjay!" Yes, he's a dyed in the wool, bona fide biscuit dunking, plane crash surviving corgi-botherer. Perhaps he has been deeply psychologically scarred after one
terrible Eurovision Song Contest entrant too many.
And so there you have it! A wide choice of candidates who would
beat their granny repeatedly with a scared puppy for your vote. All of them are
white, middle aged (mostly) middle/upper class men. Never before have we, as
voters, known such diversity! So when you go to the polls to back one of these
fine specimens, just think, what would Chuck Norris do?
He has joined his other loved ones,
but we remember him with pride.
He showed his son how to be a man
with virtues just and kind.
Through trials and tribulations,
love and humour was his guide.
To leave such treasured memories
for the ones he leaves behind.
Matt O'Neill
(16/09/1946 - 30/12/2012)
I love you dad xxx
One of the many poems written by my father, poet & author Matt O'Neill:
“On Thiepval’s Walls” by MATT O’NEILL
(In memoriam: Pte. Martin Brogan, 1st Btn. Scots Guards – 15th September 1916, Ginchy.).
On Thiepval’s walls the names are carved
of husband, father, brother, son
who perished in perdition’s flames –
a warning sign for those to come.
A million men had taken arms,
lest thoughtless ignorance deplore;
a million men – God rest them all –
knew not what lay in store.
Was it gallantry that steeled your nerve
at freedom’s cause thus glorified?
Did the patriot in you volunteer,
or did the lottery of death decide?
Did you think this war would end all wars
as you joined with nervous derring-do? –
and with “Home for Christmas” in your ears,
did you think that it was true?
Did you shed a tear for mother dear
knowing she would cry for you? –
or save your tears for no-man’s-land
when you saw the evil men could do?
So many promises unfulfilled;
a nightmare song, a raucous scream.
So many lives just thrown away
to feed a madman’s dream.
The inferno wrought by Dante’s pen
was set at nought by the grim display
on the bloody stage of no-man’s-land
by trusting souls taught to obey.
Haig sent his men in droves to face
machine gun hail with naked breast;
and when they died he laid the blame
on those so sorely pressed.
And when he returned to hearth and home
with honours pending for his part,
you stayed to sleep ’neath Flanders fields –
your courage failed to melt his heart.
No piper played a sad lament,
no headstone marked your resting place;
for you lie beyond the ken of man
wrapped in a state of grace.
So the birds came back to skies of blue,
the plough resculpted no-man’s-land,
the shattered trees grew tall again
and nature healed the broken strand.
The seasons passed across the sun,
your shroud a sea of golden corn,
and the rain became as teardrops shed
for your children never born.
The tears have dried beneath the walls,
a gentle breeze plays with the leaves;
the broken-hearted come no more,
for they’ve joined the souls for whom they grieved.
You gave your life in brutish war –
a sacrifice lest freedom falls -
but your name will live for evermore
carved on Thiepval’s walls.
(C) Matt O’Neill 2011.
I do. They were a new breed of humanoid raised at the height of Margaret Thatcher's 'greed is good' free market capitalist 1980's. These beings were once commonplace in the city with their shiny cufflinks, brick-sized mobile phones and residual acne scars. Whilst most of Britain got poorer, especially in the north, there were a few who excelled. These were Thatcher's golden children. Boys and girls fresh out of university, with many from a comfortable background, who embraced an ethos of ultra aggressive competition, where the bottom line profit was king and they enjoyed the spoils of this white collar war. Many of them died in their 30's due to stress, drug abuse, strokes, or asphyxiation from having their heads up their own arses.
Marge cancel my 3pm. I've a massive stroke penciled in at 2.30
Well now we are in 2013, I have begun to notice more and more of them. A breed of earthling who had presumably gone the way of the Dodo and Michael Barrymore's career. But now they have returned with the arrival of Thatcher's new bulldog Emperor Cameron. In many ways Maggie's yuppyism is like The Taliban, only more obnoxious. 'The Maggieban', if you will. A mentality which if given proper fertilizer, such as Emperor Cameron's never-ending bullshit machine, will grow back like so much moss.
I met with a young gentleman no older than 23. It was a business meeting along with his fellow acne-ridden alpha male wannabes. My first suspicions about his possible yuppyist nature was when he suggested that we go to Greggs for a quick snack. The kind lady serving us informed him that unfortunately there were no hot sausage rolls. He seemed genuinely offended by this and the little twerp then got ratty, asking if ANYTHING in the store was warm. I almost said 'Yes, everyone else's heart but yours' but stopped myself. This kindly and polite lady was only doing her job and giving the best service she could. And this obnoxious arse of a boy was giving her grief over the temperature of his sausage roll. It ended by me apologising to the lady for him and leaving ashen-faced.
It was clear that this smartarse was a post-Thatcher golden child when in the first 30 minutes of the meeting, he had talked about nothing but his job, his career progression and that he makes X number of pounds per day. I've got bad news for you my acne-ridden friend, I know numerous millionaires, all of whom have more subtlety and manners than you. Come back when you have a Ferrari and an attitude adjustment, you little cum-stain.
So, they have returned and are on the rise. What this country needs a good zombie apocalypse to clear the place up a bit, although on second thoughts, if you've ever been in the city at 8am, you'd be forgiven for thinking that the zombie apocalypse had already begun. Though most of the country waits expectantly for Maggie 'Fuckface' Thatcher to die, it is clear that with Emperor Cameron and Darth Osborne at the nation's helm, her legacy is still very much alive.
So if you see them in the street, don't stare, just let the Maggieban soldiers pass, because there's a decent chance that they too will expire at any moment from rectum-related asphyxiation. And no one wants to be around to witness that.
2012 has been a funny old year hasn't it? And by funny I mean completely shit in every possible aspect. The nation's economy has gone from bad to worse and the number of food banks in the UK has risen dramatically, though Emperor Cameron and Darth Osborne have made their friends richer. There have been celebrity births, marriages and deaths. A bunch of really sporty people came to London and McDonalds sponsored them to run and jump and swim. There have been truly heartbreaking tragedies, and moments of sublime idiocy to make even the most stupid in society feel clever. Oh, and everyone thought we were going to die because the Mayans said, so everyone danced Gangnam Style.
Clearly These Olympians are Lovin' It.
So where to start? Well perhaps it's best to with the only portion of society which seems to matter to people - the glamourous wacky tacky world of celebrity. The celebrity world didn't get off to the best of starts, when it mourned the loss of Whitney “Crack is Whack” Houston. The release of her last single “My Husband had to Dig it out with a Shitty Stick” had to be cancelled, but expect it to be included in her next Best Of album.
Saville: Just Days Before his Death
Without a doubt the biggest celebrity scandal of 2012 was reserved for a once loved, socially appointed saint. Since certain incidents have been brought to public attention, everyone's favourite adopted grandad has now become the nations biggest monster in sheeps' clothing. The death of Sir Jimmy "If it's in a starter bra then it's game on" Saville having been mourned in 2011 has been retrospectively celebrated in 2012. It has caused a massive shitstorm which the media has unsurprisingly taken full advantage of. The constant headlines of victim after victim coming forward combined with the arrest of high profile celebrities have left an air of suspicion over every celebrity in the 70's 80's and 90's. It won't be long before former TV stars put 'I was big in the 70's but I'm not paedo, honest' on their Twitter bios. Still in the world of high profile paedophilia, news of Ian Watkins, lead singer of Lostprophets being arrested with alleged indecent pictures of children on his hard drive has shocked fans of overrated music everywhere. If these allegations are true and he goes to prison it's safe to say that he will probably lose the ability to get a hard drive ever again. From a glass half full view at least he will make an excellent girlfriend for some lucky hairy-backed inmate.
In Politics
In UK politics, the world is still waiting to see if Nick Clegg's backbone will ever appear. Hopes have been fading fast since 2010. His spine has now become a thing of myth, like The Loch Ness Monster and Bigfoot. There are those who claim to have seen it, but no one will take them seriously for obvious reasons. Just like Clegg's political future, none of these creatures are likely to exist.
Happily, it has been a good year for the rich, especially for those of a Conservative millionaire persuasion. Meanwhile, back in the real world, a food bank opens somewhere in the UK every 3 days. Figures from the Trussell Trust who currently run over 270 food banks show that from 2010-11, a total of 61,468 people used the service after being referred by their doctor or social worker. Last year that number rose to 128,697. The Trussell Trust has predicted that in the coming year over 200,000 people will be forced to rely on the food banks. It's reassuring to know that as Lord Emperor Cameron so correctly stated, we are all in this together.
2012 will be recognised as the year the greatest political scandal since Watergate sideswiped us. It will forever be known as 'Plebgate'. This happened when Government cabinet minister Andrew Mitchell was refused passage through a gate with his bicycle by a police officer who should be considered a national hero. The millionaire minister allegedly called the cop a 'Fucking Pleb'. Under pressure from Emperor Cameron he resigned in disgrace. It has very recently come to light that fibs may have come from the police. It cannot be true, afterall the police would NEVER lie to cover their own backs.... Perhaps the saddest aspect of this whole debacle is that upon hearing of a Goverment minister calling a normal person a 'Pleb', the nation reacted with a collective 'Yeah, that sounds just like them'.
Across the pond in The United States of the N.R.A. Barack "Long-Legged Mack Daddy" Obama won a second term as President, however the people of N.R.A.Land insisted on making it a close race with George W. Bush version2.0, Mitt Romney. Romney is basically a more right wing version of Bush, which is terrifying enough, but with added welfare reduction, vulture capitalism and a general inability to relate to the common man. When asked if middle income was $100,000, he said he considered it more like $200,000 - $300,000. In a fundraiser speech which was secretly recorded, he said that no matter what, 47% of voters would vote Obama. He said the 47% 'Believe that they are victims.... believe that they are entitled to health care, to food, to housing, you name it....My job is not to worry about those people'. A true humanitarian in the shape of Mother Teresa, clearly. Obama prevailed and the world breathed a collective 'Thank fuck' and things didn't escalate towards nuclear Armageddon afterall.
In Sport
It was a fantastic year for British sport. In football, Chelsea became the champions of Europe after a rectum-clenching final with Bayern Munich which was decided through penalties. Manchester City also won the Premiership for the first time in 400 years thanks to a jammy bastard goal deep in injury time of the last game of the season. Allegedly Sir Alex "Beetroot Headed Gum Chewer" Ferguson's face got so bright red that his head burst into flames and he spent the rest of the summer being the angry superhero 'Ghost Rider'.
With the long anticipated arrival of the Olympics this summer the nation was awash with pride. Team GB did their nation proud by overachieving and getting a fabulous haul of medals. Even Scotland had reason to cheer, as Scotland came top of the table in medals to population ratio. Even Andy "Party Animal" Murray finally won something when he beat Roger "I'd be shit if it weren't for Gillette's fantastic products" Federer and won Olympic gold. Team GB's paralympians also achieved glory and rightfully became national heroes, attaining a total of 120 medals, including 39 golds. They came 3rd in the medals table, and only China got more gold medals than team GB.
"I Was Asked to Advertise Preparation H.It's Too Hip for Me"
In the News.
Lizzy, Humbled by the Stench at Horseguards Parade
Last year, some really posh bloke married a really posh girl and the world celebrated their really posh wedding. Remember them? Well they're back, and this year, said really posh girl announced that she has a really posh bun in her really posh oven, and the world is now obliged to go fucking bananas in 2013. Staying with the nation's favourite posh family, their granny celebrated her Diamond Jubilee, with her being the poshest person in the world for the last 60 years. The nation celebrated her being richer and more important than them by having tea and sausage rolls in the street with neighbours they normally don't talk to or give a shit about.
In 2012 the world was gripped by the biggest end of the world panic since the Y2K superbug threatened to plunge airplanes out of the sky, reset the clocks on DVD players and wipe out all global electronic money, resulting in us all using bottle caps as a new form of currency. This latest hysteria was because a bunch of people who lived 5000 years ago decided that 21.12.12 was the day the Earth lost control of it's bowels and we would all be shat into oblivion, via some strange and unlikely catastrophic event. Yes I'm talking about the Mayan 2012 Doomsday prophecy. We were all swamped by summer blockbusters, dodgy documentaries and religious crackpots screaming 'Repent! The end is nigh!' and all manor of bullshit. Of course, we woke up on 22nd of December realising that the Earth's bowels were in fine working order and we shouldn't have worried after all. It then transpired that the ancient Mayans had brought out another 5000 year calendar, most likely a swimsuit version. It turns out that the biggest disaster of 2012 was Disney's 'John Carter'.
Mentioning the name 'Sandy' used to provoke sentimental memories of Summer Loving, Grease Lighting and You're the One that I Want. This was when Olivia Newton John was a high school sweetheart and before John Travolta went all weird and Scientologisty on us. Post 2012, mentioning Sandy will provoke bad memories of the second costliest storm in USA history, next to Katrina. Sandy swept all along the Eastern seaboard, from The Caribbean through eastern US states all the way up to eastern Canada. 24hr rolling live news footage beamed the wind and rain into the homes of people across the world and the spectacle became perversely surreal. When the winds had dissipated and the toll was being calculated, a total of 253 people had lost their lives and a conservative estimate of $65.6 billion worth of damage was done to homes, businesses and infrastructure.
The US has sadly become used to tragedy striking in recent years, which has given the people a sense of readiness, communal strength and stoicism. However, nothing could have prepared them for the events of December 14th, when a man gained entry to the Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut, shot and killed 20 schoolchildren aged between 6 and 7yrs, and 6 members of staff, before turning a gun on himself. As news about the tragedy broke the full extent of the massacre was not yet known, and the world watched in horror as more details leaked out. This wasn't helped when US news channels (desperate to be first with the latest breaking details) broadcast misleading reports, including getting the name of the shooter wrong. They broadcast his name as Ryan Lanza, who was actually the brother of the gunman Adam. As soon as the name Ryan Lanza broke, the pitchfork brigades on Twitter were already harrassing the accounts of anyone who happened to have that name. Truly Twitter at it's worst. In the days since, the NRA have come under massive pressure, as have politicians, to change the laws on gun ownership. This argument will no doubt continue throughout 2013, with news crews there to report, scandalise, sensationalise and fulfill the political agenda of their shareholders.
And Finally
Moving on to more important matters, namely Tulisa's sexy sexy sex tape with rapping nobody MC Ultra. I say sex tape, I mean shaky mobile phone footage of Tulisa slapping herself in the face with MC Ultra's undersized penis. It is probably the sexiest You've Been Framed clip since the one with the guy in a field with his trousers around his ankles, fending off an aroused and slightly 'rapey' boy donkey:
Sir Abs-alot
Twi-hards around the world were left horrified and stunned with the news that Kristen Stewart cheated on sparkly faux-vampire Robert Pattinson with Rupert Sanders, the director of her movie 'Snow White and the Huntsman'. Rumours around Hollywood abound that kissing Kristen Stewart tastes like vinegar and lemons. It would certainly explain all of her movie performances. Meanwhile werewolf-faced Sir Abs-alot Taylor Lautner has also attempted his own solo projects, including formulaic action flick 'Abduction'. His most successful role to date however, was in portraying the 10yr old fat son of a bear obsessed psycho in the movie 'Ted'. Apparently in preparation for the role, he lost 12 inches in height, all of his muscles, gained 5 stones in fat and reversely aged 10 years.
2012 is also the year Planet Earth and it's dog started dancing Gangnam Style. The South Korean pop tart Psy's global hit became an internet meme, and a well loved slice of 2012. Take note Rebecca Black - next time you want to release a truly terrible pop song, just sing in a foreign language so no one will realise the lyrics are nonsense, make a video with a silly dance routine and you too could have one billion views on Youtube, and number ones on Mars and Pluto.
Well, that's it folks. 2012 in a withered old husk of a nutshell. Hopefully in 2013 we will have more fun, the economy will be less bleak, there will be fewer disasters and fewer celebrities running around making complete tits of themselves.
