Boredom

I'm a lazy and slightly useless blogger. I write a little blog ever half a year or so, and I never share any interesting or insightful information. I'm not bothered though, and I shant step up my blogging efforts. What a negative start! Marvellous!

I've been awake since 7am. I wouldn't usually mention such a trivial piece of information, but I'm a teacher and it's the blooming summer holidays. I should be sleeping until the afternoon and snorting coke of buxom ladies chests. I was really excited for 7 weeks of doing nothing, but I'm not actually sure what to do with myself. All my friends are at work, and the ones that aren't are snorting coke of buxom ladies chests and getting up at 4pm. Bastards. My day today, for example, is structured around getting my car looked at and going to the gym. That is no way to live your life.

I got chased by two dogs recently! Wow! I should tell you about that! There's always some story about a dog getting into the playground. There are poems about such events. Well, I got chased by two dogs that got into the playground. I decided that, as I'm a teacher, I could use my teachery ways to shoo the dogs away in an orderly fashion. That didn't happen. I approached the horrible beasts and they charged right for me. Teeth and everything. I obviously legged it, to the fear and horror of the school children. Four children needed to be calmed down inside, one child had to have her inhaler. Someone said; 'Ooooh you shouldn't run from a dog. You should've stood your ground'. Fuck off, you dottery old menstruating teaching fuck.

I haven't read the dearne valley weekender for a while. In fact, I haven't even seen it in a while. Perhaps they read my blog and decided not to give me a free copy. Probably not.

I've nothing more to say. I didn't have anything to say anyway. In fact, I wanted to waste your time like people waste mine (not that I've got anything more productive to be doing). I don't care for what I've written, nor do I care if it is read. Blogs are a bit pointless really. People see these things as a great way to share there knowledge with the rest of the world. It makes people feel special. As if what they are saying has never been said before and now they have the chance to share it with the world. The reality is, nobody gives a shit and it's just more clutter that we're spreading all over the world, just through wires and that.

So, don't read this blog, don't link your facebook to your twitter and don't spend your life telling me what your doing on the popular internet medium of the time. Enjoy the moments your in rather than spend half of the moment writing blogs and twittering the fuck out of the moment until the moment has gone.

Wow!

Dearne Valley Weekender

Hello! Been a while, hasn't it. 2009 now. I love to read. Love it. Every weekend, when I visit my girlfriend's house, I like to sit on her toilet and read the Dearne Valley Weekender. A marvellous rag, it really is. One week the headline ran 'Man snaps babies back'. I didn't like that story. However, the very next week they ran;

The dog in question had a birthday! Wow! Silly cow, Claire Sherratt took the little bugger to a £200 a night hotel! What did she expect the dog to do? 'Very good choice this Claire, I knew you had something planned'. Maybe they got really drunk courtesy of the mini bar, ended up on the bed together, she touched his little lipstick...Why did that stupid woman waste £200 on a hotel for her dog. Depressing.

Surely there are better stories to run as your main piece. 50,371 homes received the paper that week, for free, some people paid 10p for it. Waste of time.

Same issue, a few pages in. 'Neil knows his onions'. Does he? Good for Neil. What a piss poor headline. Neil is a twat. That's what I would have run with. His onions don't even look that big. Even though they've put the onions at the front of the picture, they still don't look impressive. Some people have testicles bigger than Neil's onions. Looking at Neil's face, I think he's a little bemused as to why he and his onions are causing such a stir. I love a massive marrow. Huge tomatoes, go on then. Giant sunflowers, I'll have a look. Onions you can buy from tesco, I'm alright thanks.

I took this picture on my new phone. The quality is crap, as the camera is. I don't care for a camera on a phone. However, this is possibly the best bit of investigative journalism I have ever read.  A pan fire. One of the worst kinds of fires to have in the home. Children die. Dad's die. Cat's die. Homes and lives ruined. 'The incident resulted in a small amount of fire damage to the pan'. Oh, that's alright then. I've damaged pans before. My sister once used the scourer on my Dad's new pans. Scratched them to buggery. She got a right telling off. Did the Dearne Valley Weekender call? Did they shitters like.

I've nearly finished. You join me at the 'Pub & Club Scene' section. I've probably finished my poop by now. I'm just staying here for the read now. The club scene up North used to be a thing of beauty. Old folk, of a Friday night, would go to the local working men's club and see Tina Turner getting her fanny out, or whatever. These days, it's shit. Gadies and Lentleman, please welcome on stage...Boyzaloud! Like Boyzone meets Girlsaloud. They look Irish. Green fields in the background give that away.

Two out of Three. What does that mean? I guess the middle one is the worst. Operatic gothic space rock, I imagine. I used to work as a barman in a working men's club. Wheatley WMC, to be exact. It was full of old people buying pints of best, calling everyone 'love' and 'duck'. They don't want to see Two out of Three on a Friday. Nobody does.

I'm not going to spend long on the write up for these guys. He's not wearing a shirt and she is minging. The thing that caught my eye was 'Introducing from London...' I didn't catch their name. I stopped there. Do they expect us backward Northerners to read it and cream with excitement. 'Oooooh they've sent a band from that their London'. Give a toss. I hope they crash on the way up. Put a shirt on, it's winter.

Watched Freaky Eaters whilst I ate my tea. I had three turkey drummers, chips and vegetables. Washed it down with a quarter of a family apple pie and custard. I should be fat, but I'm really not. Anyways, I enjoy Freaky Eaters. It's people who've got really bad diets and for some reason only eat cheese or crisps or whatever. They have to try different foods and usually vomit at the thought of it. I love those ones. I hate the ones where they try everything straight away and say how much they love it and how they've missed out. They should, at least, have a little sick. I'd stop filming at that point and tell them they'd wasted our time.

Right, that's your lot. I doubt you read this far, I doubt I care. 

Much love

x

Pictures of silly things

Hello again! I've decided to make a little pictures post today! Ooooh how kooky and original. It's not, but I want to put my three pictures somewhere. I'm often too lazy to take pictures, which is is a shame. I think Ken Dodd was like that and look what happened to him. Recently I've taken three fun pictures of three fun things. Hereth they lie.

Gosh! What a hot few days we're having in West Yorkshire at the moment! I'm so full after my tea and it's so warm, I feel like how a fat person must feel all the time. All hot and unable to move. I like the fat ones that all have the same face and get sweaty necks just walking up a flight of stairs. It's so hot that one business in Leeds has decided to start spreading the word of Christmas. That'll cool the whole summer thing down! I think they've left it too late this year.That's right folks! Xmas trees for sale at the first farm on the left. You should get down there as soon as possible, you don't want them to sell out. Remember what happened last year? No, neither do I. Mr Firth and myself also enjoyed watching some shopping channel selling 'Christmas in July'. When I say we 'enjoyed', I mean we 'hated', 'a lot'. So, if anyone is reading this, get busy making lists. I would like to see a list of what you want, what your family & friends want on my desk by the end of the day. Christmas is coming. Holidays are coming. If you're going, I'm not coming.


Talking of Hitler and Charlie Chaplin...Look at this little fella! He has a moustache to die for and a lovely parting! He has the face of a man, yet has the body of a cat. I think he finds it hard to fit in. The cats don't want him and us men blooming don't.
We've been enjoying his company for a couple of weeks now. I think he wants to be my best friend. I spotted him in the garden, he was just casually sitting around, and I decided to make some silly noises at him. This, of course, scared him away. However, next morning, I awoke to find he had left me a dead bird on the very step he'd been stood on! I had a lovely breakfast that morn. I've since christened him Man Faced Cat Bird and we've been cooking up business plans and ideas we will never follow through. He spends too much bloody time playing playlystation that lad. I've told him, he'll get square eyes. There's no telling some Man Faced Cat Birds.

...and finally! As if anyone cared! Tonight's star prize, Dennis. It's a hot of the production line Wasp nests! Wooo. It's not. Not a single company is making a wasp nests...yet. I have no idea who Dennis is either. He would be a terrible host. On with the show!

A few years ago a footballer, called Faustino Asprilla, came to England to ply his trade. He is Colombian and chose to play for Newcastle United. He has always amused myself and David Firth, as we always thought, or liked to imagine, he would retire from football (which he did, one right so far) and go home to Columbia to his uncle's cocaine factory. Well, well, well, japery aside, he has gone back to Columbia and although drugs aren't mentioned, I'm sure they are involved (which would make it two out of two for Wheyvid & I) Have a look see...

He was a flamboyant footballer, granted, not sure if he is so flamboyant now. I'd consider firing off a few rounds of your machine gun at security guards rather aggressive as aposed to flamboyant. His reason for doing this was due to his friends not being allowed into his farm for a 'party' and when he says 'party', he means drugs, more specifically cocaine. He did score some good goals though, they can never take those away from him. From the headline - Goal Ace Asprilla's Machine Gun Rap - I thought perhaps Faustino had decided upon a rap career specifically about machine guns. Imagine that. That's what rap was created for. Machine guns and that.

Just before I go, tiny credit crunch update. It's all still happening. We need to wrap up warm for winter, don't waste your bloody gas. Also, cut out unnecessary spending. The BBC at breakfast did a little report on the Credit Crunch. Stop buying bottled water, coffee shops will feel the crunch first and packed lunches for work are cool. Piss off copper! I love the credit crunch! Keep your eyes peeled world watchers!

The Credit Crunch

Hello!

I'm Crust. I do stuff on www.fat-pie.com. I thought I might revamp my blog a little bit, in terms of content and fonts . Unfortunately there is no option for comic sans.

Have you little munchkins checked out the Fat-Pie podcast? If you haven't, you really should. Get yourselves back to http://www.fat-pie.com/podcast.htm. Dave and I sat and raided our brains to pull a variety of different characters out and spill them all over two microphones. I think we deserve a stab at a live action comedy show. So, get on to your local bank manager. Give them your bank details. They'll know what to do.

Are you all excited by the credit crunch? I am. It sounds like a very business like cereal doesn't it. Mostly everything I read in the newspaper, hear on the news and see in the street is being blamed on this blooming credit crunch. This is why I have taken it upon myself to try and blame at least one thing per day on the invisible wind of crunching credits. I suggest you try it. I'm finding it to be very therapeutic.

Recently I've started to develop a worry for bald men who don't fully shave their heads. You know the type. The bald man that refuses to accept their hair is gone. If you're one of these people, shave it all off, let it go. This kind of man looks like a mental patient who's been let out for the day.

My favourite make of long haired bald man is the business man model. This type of baldy will wear a suit and have a briefcase. He should look professional and successful. He looks the craziest of them all! He makes you question if he actually works at all. Is his briefcase just full of unopened, unpaid bills and a half bottle of cheap scotch? I have membership to the balding gang. I allowed to discuss this. If there was a gang, we'd have discount cards and stuff.

There isn't anything of significance in the words above. It's pretty much twaddle.