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The Summer Burn has started! Check your inbox now. |
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 Take me on, take on me... |
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Ok, this can't be just me that can see this...
Can anyone else spot the blatant contradiction on the back of this bottle of (actually delicious, yet alcohol free, so 4/10) Dasani pure water?
Dasani Water, yesterday. (click for bigger)
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The actions of a Funjunkie editor are more suited to incurring consequences than reaping rewards, which is probably why our Saturday mornings are usually spent lying in bed with extreme hangovers.*
Small wonder then, that I'm completely crap at getting things on my little planet to Grow properly.
Found on** Tom Shearer's site.
*Pubs here on Mars are few and far between, but with the reduced gravity we experience, it's only a couple of hops to our neighbouring towns.
**Or stolen from. You decide.
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Penguins are having a bad time of it at the moment. They're being clubbed, flipped, blown-up, batted and smacked all over the place. Now they have to suffer the indignation of being pushed over ice on their arses into freezing cold water!
Somebody make the poor blighters a nice hot cuppa and give them a blanket for pity's sake. No? You're right, sod it. Shove their pesky arses outta here!
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I'm looking forward to the release of Halo 2, and I know that I'm not alone.
There are some really dedicated fans out there who are going to great lengths to emulate Master Chief, but then of course there are also a few that aren't.
If you're disappointed with the delay of the release until autumn, fret not. We've been given exclusive access to one of the new mini-games that will appear in the final version*, and we'd like to share it with you.
We're proud to present a totally unexclusive taster of things to come: Warthog Launch.
*Untrue
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Ah, I remember, back in the days of good old 2004, when we used to slurf around doing no good, counting Revels, fending off wombats and other such luxuries.
Times were pretty good then I can tell you.
Not now, here in 2034. Times is hard, and you've gots to get the pennies where you can. That's why I'm stuck up here in orbit blasting these damn rocks outta the sky with nothing but this 'ere robo-wombat and Taz and Reg's brains in jars hooked up to loudspeakers.
I don't get paid for it or owt, but it sure beats wearing a suit.
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Penguins, penguins, penguins... Filthy, nasty, creepy little buggers with big shiny, teethy, fangy bits that stick out and maim anybody in sight*.
We tried hitting them with a baseball bat but they just came back. We tried getting a killer whale to help, but he just flipped them in the air... the penguins were rather amused.
Sorry kids but it's time to get downright vicious!
*Apart from those little ones with freckles. We rather like them.
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We've been receiving Revels data all afternoon. There will be a graph update tommorow morning. Please keep your information and gossip coming overnight.
Thank you.
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 Ooooh, I could crush a grape! |
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Ninjas have a reputation for being hard bastards, but it's all a big conspiracy. Underneath it all, they're as soft as pussy cats. Look, all you have to do to defeat them is throw flying spikey things at them, and they disappear in a puff of smoke! That's hardly rock hard is it? You don't see Phil Mitchell go up in a puff of smoke when someone bottles him, do you?
Thanks Coolio-San.
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Who comes up with these ideas?
Football on telly at 4 in the afternoon? You can't do this to me! I'm now going to have to video it and resist the urge to switch on the telly or radio, plus avoid all sports news on the internet until Curls gets home from work.
Recording football games... its just not the same.
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Yesterday we were conducting an experiment into the Distribution of Revel sweet types per bag, a highly worthy piece of research I'm sure you'll agree. One whose conclusions may reverberate around the halls of Whitehall for some time to come.
So we asked you to help us increase our sample size in our experiment, counting the actual number of Revels that you got in a bog standard bag, and counting the number of each sweet type.
The reason? Well we're trying to find exactly how it is that Revels are dispensed into each bag. We had long and heated arguments about how this might be done, and this research goes some way to proving/disproving cases.
So let's have a look at the new data that has been sent in by some of our readers:
Now, whilst the average number of Revels per bag stays *fairly* constant at 17 or 18, some bags did contain only 16 sweets. These readers wrote in about feelings of disappointment and sadness at this fact.
Next FACT! It is clear that the individual sweet types are not counted per bag and then dropped in. As we can see, Orange flavour sweets in particular suffered from wide swings in numbers.
A trend is forming in that coffee sweet levels were lower than average per type - making us wonder if Masterfoods realise that we all hate them and reduce the numbers per bag.
Our important research continues. Send us more data!
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Ladies and Gentlemen, the FJ Follower Of The Year Competition 2004 starts Monday 1st March! We've got lots of tasty prizes lined up for you, including the Star Prize of an amazingly cool Lomo ColourSplash Camera, which we actually don't want to give away because its too cool for school.
 No it's not an hearing aid
The competition is extremely easy to enter, you don't have to have a camera or photoshop, and there's absolutely no need to do anything as drastic as getting a tattoo done, like last year's winner Munkybrain.
Read on for more details...
Full Story >>
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Following on from yesterday's ponderings on the popular chocolate and honeycomb snack, Maltesers, we got to thinking: Maltesers are also present in bags of Revels. The question is, given that Revels are sold in 35g bags, is there a set number of each type of sweet in each bag?
If there is, then we could guess that each bag is filled with a simple process of counting a number of each sweet and placing them in the bag.
If there isn't then some strange sweet selection process must occur at Masterfoods to ensure a 35g weight bag. If this is true, are some types of sweet more likely to occur in each bag of Revels?
Weighty and high-brow thinking indeed.
So Dave Mash and I, each armed with a bag of Revels, set to out highly scientific task - counting (before consuming) each type of Revel. Yes, even the horrid coffee ones.
And our results?
As you can see, although the total number of sweets remains a steady 18 per packet, the distribution of sweet types is different.
Hmmm. More research into this is required. Obviously we can't decide on the most frequent Revels sweet with a simple 2 bag sample. Oh no.
Which is where you come in. Go and buy a bag of revels, and tell us YOUR results. Its important.
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So Dave Mash and I have been discussing this for the best part of 20 minutes now and we're no closer to an answer.
How do they make Maltesers so perfect and round with an even coating of chocolate all over and no obvious marks left by grappling devices?
We've discussed many potential methods, all of which we ultimately had to reject. Mash had an idea that they're fired through a curtain of running chocolate, which I dismissed as this would result in an absence of chocolate on the trailing side, and besides, how would they catch them without ruining the coverage?
We moved onto the idea of trays of rolling chocolate covered ball bearings, which rotate the naked maltesers as they move down the conveyor and expose each side to a coating of chocolate, but dismissed that as again, its unlikely the coating would be even, and the direction of malteser travel would be random, causing malteser collisions as they progressed, and again, removing that perfect coverage.
So onto moulds, where they're sealed in spherical compartments and chocolate pours in, before they're opened and any seam is removed with a chocolate buffing machine.
Nope. useless.
And so we came to our final idea, and this must be it, for there are no other possible methods: They make Maltesers in Space.
Think about it, there must be a gigantic Masterfoods factory in space, where each naked malteser is given spin in a chamber and then chocolate is sprayed on.
It makes sense. Surely.
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If you're looking for a recipe to celebrate today's Pancake related festivities, then look no forward than friend of FJ, Meg from Meish, with her tried and trusted pancake recipe.
Variations
If you're feeling adventurous, you can swap the plain flour for self-raising flour, this gives the pancake a more fluffy texture.
If you're feeling like a bloater, swap the lemon and sugar for Chocolate spread and whipped cream.
If you're feeling flamboyant, replace the lemon for orange, and pour some brandy on top and then set fire to it.
If you're feeling like a reader of Funjunkie, make 400 of the suckers, make a wombat design in maple syrup on each one, fill your fat face with them and then bugger off down the pub.
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Today is pancake day. The FJ virtual cafe isn't quite open for business yet, so you're going to have to make your own. We recommend that instead of using batter on a hot skillet, you get a large snowball and make your pancakes out of Penguins instead.
They're not so good with a sprinkling of lemon and sugar, but they sure fill you up quicker!
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This weekend I did something that I've never done before. I brushed my teeth while taking a crap.
Now, this may sound terribly unhygenic, but it does have it's benefits. Firstly, there's the time saving factor (although this was on a Saturday and I wasn't in a hurry). Secondly, the minty freshness of the toothpate counteracted the smell of my evil 'morning after' poo.
So what's this got to do with seeing more animation? I was just thinking that brushing my teeth while dropping the kids off at the pool would be a lot more complicated if I were a chimp with Cleavers for Hands... that's all.
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Good grief! Apparently you haven't watched any animation shorts for at least three to four... no, my mistake, in fact its FIVE minutes! 5 minutes gone and what have you been doing? Work!
You'd think that the company would treat you better. I know for a fact that you actually managed a 10 minute stint of pure productivity yesterday, and how do they repay you? Well, aside from the actual pay... but what's that? Three... Four hundred... an hour?
It makes me sick! You deserve breaks my friend. I'd suggest 5 minutes off after every 2 minutes of work. Look, its what you deserve. Take a breather, kick of your shoes and watch some movies at Bitey Castle.
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Todays NASA Science article is titled: "Can People Go To Mars?" and asks, imaginatively, whether people will ever live on the surface of Mars.
Well, duh. May I remind you that the Funjunkie Team moved here safely (ignoring the odd cut or bruise from the wombat's rampage) way back in December! We moved here to avoid paying the Congestion Charge, but since then we've also discovered the knock-on advantage of avoiding council tax as well.
So you can live out here safely! For some reason, NASA won't return our calls when we tell that you can. Our e-mails go unanswered, and our faxes have become an object of ridicule amongst the scientists. Have they become so fatuous that they ignore direct evidence?
NASA, even your rovers are sending you evidence that you keep glossing over!
The FJ Towers, as photographed by Opportunity, yesterday.
Oh and NASA? Remember Spirit had those problems recently? Yea, well sorry about that, only Reg had plugged his hairdryer into it to do his hair. Our apologies.
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This year's Funjunkie Follower Of The Year Competition will be announced shortly. Its going to be bigger and better than last year's. There'll be prizes galore for you to WIN!
So start getting excited. Gentlemen, if any of the ladies in the audience faint then its up to you to catch them before they dash their heads on the floor.
Ladies, likewise for the men.
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OK, watch my hands. I'm going to put one of my cute mushroom-egg pets in a box. I'm then going to swap the positions of the box like so...
*Swish swish swish*
Right, five dollar say you don't know where it is.
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Sad.... Grey... Dull.... Depressed....
What has happened to our modern world? Wasn't relative economic prosperity and social freedom supposed to make us happy? What the hell happened? You walk around town these days and its almost as if the child in all of us not only died, but died in an horrific, traffic accident whilst clutching a newborn puppy having just had its birthday party called off because all the children invited went to the rich child next door's party instead.
For God's Sake, CHEER UP PEOPLE!
So, as ambassadors of all that is cheerful and stupid, we were delighted when we read that Bloggerheads had formulated a plan to spread a little love in the world.
His plan: just place some simple posters featuring the famous no-hands kitten from B3ta in shop windows, and try and raise a smile or two. That's all. Simple.
So armed with 2 hastily printed copies of said poster, I wandered into town late on Friday evening to spread a little joy in the world.
You'll find the results over on the relevant B3ta thread, but they were a kneejerk reaction to a suggestion read late in the day, and YOU CAN DO BETTER.
So the plan then - print off loads of copies of this Word document and cheer up the world a bit. Send us the photographed results of your handiwork!
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Last week, one of our regulars kindly sent us a link. We didn't share it with you because we felt that you just weren't ready for the enormity of it. But now, we can finally reveal the secrets of one of our underground labs. Yes, we've been developing laser death rays to be deployed with our robot monkey army! Take the keys to the lab and have a look around, but be careful what you touch.
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Yesterday, a motley crew of 14 Funjunkies met up for another Run What You Brung. We braved snow showers and biting winds just so we could roll down hills on kids toys. While smoking tabs and drinking stout.
Once again, we have to wait for the video footage to catch up with us, but in the meantime here are some more crummy animated gifs:
Kaiser Power
Trike Rage
Half-Pipe Pressure
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When was the last time you had a brain aneurysm? If you're anything like us, it was probably when Wild posted the link to Mausland's ridiculous Dolphin Dash.
Since then, thousands of people have emailed us with the news that they had suffered from a severe case of near death after playing that game. The cry was heard. Obviously you want us to keep schtum and never post one again... especially if it involves chickens.
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Don't you just hate it when your chewing gum runs out of flavour? You're in the Tate Modern, you've been chewing spearmint gum for the past half an hour, never once craving a cigarette, but it's gone and lost its minty freshness. Damn!
Probably better not stick it to that Andy Warhol portrait... apparently that's a little rude and likely to get you into trouble again. You haven't seen a bin around here, and nobody's going to love you if you throw it on the floor or stick it to a seat so that it can get stuck to somebody's leg.
Oh well, there's nothing for it. You'll have to put it back in the wrapper, take it home and add it to your Gum Blondes Gallery.
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Gentlemen! Do you find women attracted to you, only to walk away in disgust as soon as your feet hit the dancefloor? Have you been stricken with cardboard-stiff joints when funky tracks come on and the laydees start a-gyratin?
Then fear no more! Simply enrole on our course of Sex Tips from The Sex team! Our unique 6 week course includes dance tips, as well as all the other areas required to turn YOU into a steaming SEX GOD!
Here's a clip from our syllabus:
Hot Sex Dance Tuition, yesterday.
(6.5Mb Windows Media, right click to download.)
Simply send £499 (cash or cheque) to Funjunkie Sex Education Laboratories Inc., Funjunkie Towers, Mars.
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HTML Humour: It might make a <blink>ing geek out of you.
WARNING: If you laughed at that pathetic joke, you are well on your way to being a script kiddie.
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Overheard today from a cubicle whilst in the toilets of Fleet Service Station whilst on the M3 motorway:"*BEEP BEEP BEEP*
Hello?
Awright gawgeous? I'm at Fleet Services. On the M3.
What am I doing? I'm having a shit.
Ha! Ha! Yea! I'm REEKING the place!
Gotta go babes, I'm wiping me arse." Quite delightful. And they say romance is dead.
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Genius.
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No! There couldn't possibly be another FFG, could there?
It staggers the imagination... you wait all week for a decent game to show, and then 8 turn up at once. It's a problem we have here at Funjunkie HQ. We can't control the timing of all these links. Usually we're all busy dealing with another wombat escape, which takes about half a day. Yesterday he got into the snooker room, and you wouldn't believe the insurance claim we had to put on that antique table.
So when we get a day without events* we like to get as much done as possible. Wild's currently replacing the kitchen floor after a minor flood (caused by a delivery van that turned up with 2 tonnes of beer bottles, which crashed into the back door), and Reg has just spent the last hour cleaning his collection of miniature Raleigh Choppers.
I've just been lazy all afternoon, watching a couple of cows fighting in the field behind FJ Towers.
*I may have spoken too soon. I can hear the faint sounds of a Pigmy Hippo tearing around downstairs.
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Wild has obviously not been taken with any of the games so far. If he had got hooked on Pingu sledging, he wouldn't be doing beaver/wizard/teapot/footballer things.
Hopefully I will be able to stop the rot and keep him amused with this accurate sports simulation. Yes, it's Cat Baseball!
N.B. It seems to be easier on the harder settings
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Six games so far today. You're such lucky slurfers, the lot of you. And here's us... working our asses off to make sure you're happy. You should be showering us with kisses and flowers and rampant gibbons and suchlike. Where are the fucking rampant gibbons?
No matter. We can keep going without gibbons, but only because we're such nice people. In fact we're too damn nice. We're the nicest bloody people in the world, working our asses off for you. You, the slurfers who don't shower us with kisses and flowers and rampant gibbons!
Er...
You've probably already seen this game because it's been doing the rounds, but anyway... here's George Where did I leave my dictionary? Bush shooting just about everything in site.
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Its obviously Friday, cos otherwise I wouldn't be doing things like this:
Mmmm. tea....
or this:
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Its getting hot in here, but aparently its rather bad form to take off all your clothes in an office full of busy workers and important clients.
Lucky for us February is officially still winter, and the law states that during winter there must be at least a foot of snow covering the whole country, or else the Prime Minister will be eaten by angry hedgehogs.*
What you need to do now is go outside, find a big long hill and sledge down it. Of course, chances are you're supposed to be working, and apparently the lifesize cardboard cut-out picture of yourself that you left at your desk last week was burned in a freak internal office memo mining accident. Looks like you'll have to let Pingu do all the fun stuff for you.
*The UK snow protection act 2002.
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Over the past few weeks, a huge percentage* of slurfers have emailed us demanding more educational Funjunkie Friday Games, especially if they involve Sex Education.
Funjunkie is here to help. Our next FFG will teach you about safe sex. It will teach you that to get lots of safe sex, you need to dress up as a very short penis, wander around iaimlessly, drink beer, avoid little red imps and kill pink robots by wearing a condom over your head.
Funjunkie: The home of education by realistic example.
*In statistical terms, absolutely anything can be made true.
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I'm trying to refurnish my bedroom at the moment. I've been in my house for over two years now, and it's the only room that hasn't been decorated yet. There's still woodchip and a flowery border on the walls from the previous owners. To be frank, it stinks. I can't believe I've been so lazy as to let it slide for so long.
The thing is, it's very hard to find a nice bed. Mrs Reg has decided she wants a French Country style room with a white iron bed. I don't really care what I have, as long as I can sleep on it after a night out on the Guinness. However, all the ones she has suggested so far stink even worse than the flowery border.
I'm thinking of just getting the sleeping bag and kipping in the shed while I gaze at the stars.
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Yeah baby! It's only twenty past nine and I'm already on 2 FFGs. I rock!
This one's all about the time that you got caught up in a major killer zombie attack dilemma. Yes, you remember... you were stuck in an office, armed only with a stapler, and you had to fight your way out leaving a trail of gore in your wake.
You remember? Yes, well they made a game about it. You're famous now.
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Today I win the First Funjunkie Friday Game of the Week war with pure style.
Not because of my new Tesco's own brand trousers, that I'm pretty sure I saw both David Beckham and Posh spice wearing in Kwik Save last week whilst rooting through the reduce priced vegetables box. Not even because of my new found ability to wash said clothes in the strange big white whirly, noisy, wet making machine.
None of the above.
Today's incredible win is due to the fact that I'm posting this at just after midnight. I'm obviously a fucking genius! I dare Reg and Wild to beat that one.
So your reward for my being up at this unspeakable hour, is to play Handball for a couple of well earned minutes. I'm going to carry on working until my eyes seize up...
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It's been a week since Wild came back from his sunny holiday in Uncle Bulgaria. He's finally transferred the last of his 8mm cinefilms onto video, and is ready to put them alongside the rest of his collection. But before he packs them away in an airtight tupperware box and buries them as a time capsule in the Blue Peter garden, he'd like to do a big screening.
I won't be able to attend the lavish premiere since I have other commitments within the logging industry, but he gave me a private screening earlier today. Make sure you're still awake when he shows the bit where he's playing baseball, and then the hotdog stand debacle. My oh my.
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Here's another great offer for all our Funjunkie readers...
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Found in a funjunkie inbox today...
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Don't you just hate those days which start off all nice and sunny, but then rapidly go downhill? You're in a great mood, but then bad things start creeping up on you. Before you realise it, you're disposition has gone from bright and breezy to damp and dreary.
Usually the quickest way to cheer up again would be to reach for a cool can of beer, but that's often impractical while at work. Thankfully there's now a solution to this problem. Try Beer Disappear, and watch every day be transformed into a beautiful spring day!
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Here's a true story. When Mrs Reg woke up this morning, she told me about the dream she was just having. She was writing the words 'Knight Rider' on lengths of kitchen roll tube.
Now stop me if you disagree, but I'm thinking that the meaning behind it is basically, she wants Hasselhoff's knob. At least it wasn't a generic 'Pitt' or 'Depp' fantasy. She's obviously got good taste.
So where am I going with this? Well, here are a bunch of new desktops from Poorusher one of our forum regulars, and my favourite's entitled Deep Throat.
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Forum regular SickBoy is in bed today. He's sick, funnily enough. Although it's not very funny for him, naturally. He did however valiantly manage to crawl out of bed to send us a link to a game. That's dedication for you.
Unfortunately, his link didn't work, so his effort was in vain. Luckily for him, one of our specialist robot monkeys just happened to find a game shortly afterwards. So if you get out of bed again (to send us another duff link for example), have a go at this SickBoy, as it's dedictated to you.
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Outed!
Another triumph for the Funjunkie Special Investigations Unit! They've only gone and discovered that none other than Vernon Kay, model, presenter, big-haired loon is actually a wig wearer!
Vernon Kay, yesterday.
Mr. Kay, 47, of Slough has kept his rug wearing habits completely secret from the public until now, and with good reason! Quite apart from it being the focal point for his fey looks that score him points with the laydees, he also maintains lucrative hair modelling contracts with Revlon and Vidal Sassoon.
When we contacted him for a statement about his baldy-headed habits, he only had the following to say: "I'm not bald, you twats. Get off my car bonnet!"
Obviously he's touchy about the subject. But we here at Funjunkie believe that baldies should stand up for themselves and proudly display their lack of hair. Hence, until his lawyers and the courts force us otherwise, here's the irrefutable evidence that we filmed whilst interviewing him on a windy day:
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Ah Solitaire, the game invented for people who like balls but have no mates. Grab yourself a glass of port, settle down with the dog by your feet and spend some quality time with yourself.
Actually, if you spend most of your time on the internet, you're bound to be a bit of a geek. Go to the pub and meet some people. There's an outside world too you know. Loser.
Oh wait, that's contravening the Slurfers Code, SHIT! Forget it, just stay in!!!
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It is widely claimed that the popular British sport of Jousting was invented in 1991 by none other than Jason Connery, son of Sean Connery and star of the eighties tv show, Robin of Sherwood.
Jason Connery, inventor of jousting? yesterday.
However, The Funjunkie Research Team has recently unearthed evidence that contradicts this information. We talked to programme engineers who worked on the show at the time who claim that Mr. Connery actually got the idea after a scene on the show that involved two men in suits of armour on horses with large sticks charging at each other.
a Joust, yesterday.
So where did the programme writers come up with the idea for this strange sport? Well, we dug further, and we can now exclusively reveal that Jousting was in fact invented by the British Prime Minister Harold Macmillan in 1962!
Bored by matters of the day, Macmillan proposed to a packed House of Commons that they utilise the length of the debating room for sport. He proposed that ministers run at each other with arms outstretched, brandishing rolled up copies of Hansard. The winner of each bout was the one left standing after the collision.
Unsurprisingly, it was a huge success, and to this day Ministers still maintain a secret jousting league when all the cameras have been turned off for the day. Gordon Brown is reputed to be unbeatable.
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Over the past month or so we have had literally* thousands of requests in our mailbag, asking us if we know the meaning and the origins of one of Funjunkie's favourite words: SLURF.
We have sat on this for some time, debating whether to pass on this knowledge to the waiting world. A little knowledge is often a dangerous thing, and spreading danger is not our primary objective... until now.
The time has come to tell you. The time has come to let the world know the truth. The public has a right to know what Slurfing is all about.
Slurf v
Slack off work by surfing the internet and playing online games. -n Slurfing the act of slacking off work by surfing the internet and playing online games, Slurfer a person who slurfs. Read more to see the original formal mission statement.
*The word "literally" is usually used in the context of truth, but not here.
Full Story >>
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I was about to say "Have you ever woken up in a room after a night drinking and not known where you were?", but then I realised I was talking to you. Of course you have. In fact, it's probably more often that not that you wake up in unusual surroundings rather than the comfort of your own bed.
You can blame it on the Banana Bread beer, but it's your fault you got drunk. And now, you've only gone and woken up in the Crimson Room. How do you think you're going to get out of there, numbnuts?
Once again, cheers metafilter.
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Today is one of those days when there's nothing worthy of note happening. The most interesting thing that I've unearthed is that the London congestion charges are now a year old. Not that that's particularly worthy of note, as they've not really affected my standard of living in the slightest*. I still get from A to B by sheer accident, often wondering minutes later how I got there.
Maybe we should all go to sleep and hope that tommorow brings enlightenment.
*I don't however live in London
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Found in a funjunkie inbox today...
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Y'know, you go on holiday for a week, and the whole world goes mad.
I come back from falling off mountains to find that there's a diamond the size of a planet, the whole 10 billion trillion trillion carats of it.
Blllllliiiiinnnnnnnng.
Now how long before Puff Daddy's got it on a medallion?
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I am the King of the Castle, and you are the dirty rascal. That's as long as you're not better at counting than me. In which case, I'd be the dirty rascal, and the chances of that are pretty slim.
One, Two, Five, Twelvety... bugger. I suppose that means you're going to blast my tower. You pesky kids! Just because you can count, it doesn't make you 'better' than me.
Or does it?
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Based on A Day in the Life, by an almost unknown sixties boy band:
Woke up, fell out of bed,
Dragged a comb across my head
Found my way downstairs and drank a cup,
And looking up I noticed I was late.
Found my computer and switched on that
Booted up in seconds flat
Found my way to windows and opened mail
Somebody spoke and I went into a dream
aaaaa-aaaa-aaaa-a...
I Tried to read the news today, oh boy
195 emails in my inbox
And though the emails were rather small
I had to count them all
Now I know how many emails it takes to fill the albert hall:- 13 technical mailing list messages
- 3 postmaster undeliverable notices.
- 2 opt-in newsletters
- 1 message from a friend
- ...
and
...
and
... - and One Hundred and Seventy Six spam messages!
It staggers the imagination that my day-to-day email has now reached over 90 percent spam. That's how to start a monday morning on the right foot.
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Yeti again* the game of the day goes to Yeti Sports. This time, instead of beating penguins with a baseball bat, you opt for the fairly humane method of using a killer whale to flip them in the air with it's tail. Once airborne, you may then twat the little feathered fish eater with a Mammoth sized snowball.
The aim, if you'll excuse the pun, is to embed the poor wretches into a nearby iceberg, thus giving the Titanic something to aim for.
All fairly reasable, but why the Orca doesn't eat it's favourite prey instead of helping with the game is anybody's guess.
Ready, Fire, Aim.**
*I am truly sorry.
**(Spike Milligan)
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Wild's going to be a bit upset tommorow. His Valentine's Cards For Us Competition has been a disaster! There has only been one entry so far, so it's sure to win the top prize. A lovely young lady called Lynn wrote a nice poem, but that's hardly any consolation.
I reckon it's because you're all secretly addicted to porn, and you don't have time for romance.
Thanks for the link Xavier, you 56 percenter!
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If your Gold Legging and Sweater combo hasn't hooked you a hot date for tommorow night, maybe you should take a leaf out of the Charver's book*. Slip on a fake Burberry cap (stolen from the market, obviously) and go and hang around outside the local Andy's Records. Wait for some ladies to pass by, and offer them a swallow of your strong alcoholic beverage. The success rate should be pretty good, because posh birds love a bit of rough**.
*You'd better hurry up, they're being teefed at an alarming rate. Not that they can read, mind you.
**May not be true.
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Once again, Taz has pipped me at the post and given you the first FJFG of the day. I thought I might be in with a chance, considering it's a two horse race this friday (Wild's still sliding down hills on sticks).
I was in line to put the first game up, but I was late to work. As you may have noticed, it's Friday The Thirteenth. I was minding my own business on the bus into the office, when suddenly a huge wrecking ball started to swing across the road. It started hitting the traffic left right and centre, bishing and bashing cars off the road. I then spotted a black cat walking under a ladder while holding a rabbit's foot, and I thought, I wonder what the chances of that are?
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Last month we gave you an insight into the life of the Chaver. Historically, your run of the mill, Buckfast drinking, tab smoking scally has never been known for his or her writing prowess. Until now that is.
Chavers from around the globe are flocking to our comments section, filling it with works that would have humbled the likes of Proust and Keats. Who said that missing school would lead to a lack of language skills?"ere wots rong wi charvaz?
nowt!!!! xactly!
am sori but da fitest ladz on earth r charvz
dey no wot their tlkin n undastand ya
ting is u peepz ant even tried 2 get 2 no em!
so go on go try it!" The proof, ladies and gentlemen, is clear as mud.
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...and the award for the first Funjunkie Friday Game of the week goes to...
Taz!
*Cue standing ovation and several minutes of applause*
That's right kids... we beat the bastards. You and me! We're a fucking team, and I'd like to accept this award on your behalf. On behalf of all of you slurfers who... who helped by... who... who did absolutely nothing to help me! In fact you sat on your ass and let me do all the work by myself. Sod it! This award is for me, and for me only.
Anyway, since you're still here, you might as well go and save the Sheriff's bacon.
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So you've got a date for tommorow. It's the first time in years that someone has agreed to go for a romantic night out on Valentine's Day with you. The thing is, you've forgotten all of your social etiquette. How does one get around the awkward situation of deciding who should pay the bill? What's the acceptable level of drunkness before heavy petting starts?
Worst of all though, is the question of what to wear. Fashions have changed more often than the tides of the sea since you last had to dress to impress. Here's a word of advice, sweaters are in, and they all look excellent teamed with tight gold leggings. Mark my words, you'll be 'well in' if you use this combination.
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Due to major cutbacks in government spending, the NHS has had to make severe alterations to this year's budget. As a result of this there is no longer any way they can afford to pay a qualified surgeon for my uncle's knee operation next week, such are the high wages of today's Orthopaedic surgeons.
Look, I know it's short notice, but we've already cleared it with your boss. Anyway, the thing is, we've booked you in for a 9 o'clock next Wednesday. Just one question: Have you ever scrubbed in on a knee replacement op before?
No?
Oh shit.
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Wild's still on holiday, but thanks to a forward thinking government, all bedrooms in Bulgaria have now got high speed internet connections*. That means we can have a sneaky preview of some of his holiday films!
He's been videoing bonking dogs, turning on & off light switches, and Naked Axe Throwers. I can't wait to see the full 168 hours worth of footage!
*Since 1978
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Do you remember the theme tunes to Why Don't You?:
"Why Don't You Just Switch Off Your Television Set And Go Out And Do Something Less Boring Instead?"
It has been brought to our attention that there's a bloke that has been turning off his computer as well as his TV, And Going Out And Do Something Less Boring Instead. We feel that this blatantly contravenes the 2004 Slurfing Act. The good thing is, that since he's doing all the Going Out And Doing Something Less Boring Instead, you don't have to. Which in turn means that you can see the fruits of his Going Out And Doing Something Less Boring Instead in the comfort of your office chair.
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Don't you just hate the Office Pest? We're doing OK at the moment here at FJ Towers, since Wild is away on holiday. Me and Taz are conversing politely in our smoking jackets playing croquet on Wild's desk.
When he get's back from his skiing trip he's going to be twice as gobby for weeks. Sometimes I feel like smacking him one. In fact, sometimes when he starts singing at his desk, I really feel like running up behind him and twatting him one on the back of the head with a large dictionary.
Cheers Xavier. It's dedication indeed that makes a site just to show that...
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So you consider yourself an intellectual. You've studied astrophysics to degree level, hold a PhD in Pharmacology, give keynote lectures on the works of Orwell, Burgess and Nabokov, and you've recently written several books which throw virtually every Freudian theory out the window. Your extensive book collection has now taken over a space larger than the local multiplex cinema, and you've been published in every issue of the Lancet since June 2002.
You're pretty damned clever.
But have you ever managed to answer the eternal question: What is GOAT?
No, thought not. You're just a fucking amateur! "...Goat is a small furry but very adventurous little chap, who is always ready for the next challenge." Yeah, beat that Einstein!
Thanks to the slurfing prowess of Malene for that one.
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We were quite impressed by Royal Mail's new Smart Stamp scheme here at FJ Towers. This new technology allows you to print your own stamps with a design of your choice. Of course, this immediately sent us into a downward spiral of depraved and lewd design ideas. The new British FBI soon came knocking at the door after we sent out our latest knitwear catalogue with stamps bearing a picture of Taz's arse with the Queen's head tattooed on his left butt cheek.
After our official warning (and three cardigan fine), we decided that we should stop using Royal Mail altogether, and make our own stamps from scratch.
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At the end of January we stuck two fingers up to a bunch of angry men, and proved that boys are indeed stupid, so it's okay for girls to throw rocks at us. The proof? Well just reading this website should give you enough.
But aparently you're all a bit worried about being caught on the wrong side of the law*. Let's face it... you're lacking a sense of adventure.
Still, we're not ones to leave you with no alternative, so how about a throw rocks at boys game?
Better? Good.
Thanks to Funjunkie slurfer and reader freakimus, for that one.
*Being caught by the fuzz is almost as bad as being swung around by the tits, alledgedly.
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Altogether now:
Five Blue-oo Riiiings!
Four Red Crosses
Three cups of Tea
Two Players Playing
And a loooo-ser-er called Reg!
Hell. I'm bad at this.
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Dear oh dear... look at you. You're looking terribly bored this morning. Is it the boss again? That manager of yours is forever making you do all the crap jobs... and you had to work late last night too?
Bastards!
Nevermind mate. How about a couple of movies to cheer you up this miserable morning? First up is a ridiculously bizarre WMD romp called Indigen, and then we've got the endearing tale about the adventures of Tom the Cat.
Snuggle up by the fire, get the popcorn out, and gaze at the computer monitor for 20 minutes. You lucky lucky slurfer, you.
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Congratulations to Paul Hunter for winning the The Masters last night. I think that his tremendous comeback was due to his choice of an Alice band over a simple hair grip, as sported by Ronnie. Their Samson-like struggle will be influencing sports players and commoners alike in their choice of hairstyles in the coming seasons. I'm off to Boots this lunchtime to try on a few slides and grips.
It all puts Dennis 'Upsidedown Specs' Taylor to shame. Notice that Den's only got a measly 42% Sex Appeal rating within the World Rankings.
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Over the weekend, the FJ competition mailbox was inundated with Valentine Cards For Us. Well, that's if you call one card an inundation. Which we will*.
So this entry from Mike is going to win the grand** prize (since it's the only entry) unless you come up with something better, and pretty sharpish too.
 Someone's arse, recently
*For legal reasons, you can't quote us on that
**For legal reasons, we have to admit that it's not that grand at all, really
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Bollocks to this, I'm off to Bulgaria.
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You're an amateur photoshopper are you? But don't tell me... you can't afford the software, right? Yeah we know how it is... you're surrounded by all these B3ta junkies who can potatoshop a Yak with Zora Suleman's head, at 200 yards*, and you're there stuck with having to use Windows' own Paint.
Life is by no means fair.
But we at Funjunkie are coming to the rescue. We've slurfed high and low to find you some serious Potatoshop-style amusement gadgets. We've now got a collection of gizmos that could rival the next James Bond shag-mobile, and here's the first of one.
*WITH MIND BULLETS!
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All entries for the Valentines Cards For Us competition (see below) will be posted in the forums.
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Valentine's Day is just over a week away and already Reg, Taz and myself are depressed.
Every year, the three of us don't get ANY Valentine's cards delivered to FJ towers and we have to make cards to give to ourselves.
Its very upsetting. Would you want to see these 3 pinups go without love and affection?
Our forlorn loveless heroes, yesterday.
No, you wouldn't would you? They're just too cute for words. So here's the deal: We're desperate for love this year. We need valentines cards. Why don't you send us your cards and we'll award the most gushing, lovely, horn-attaining card a delicious box of chocs! That's right! The lady loves Milk Tray.
Send your expressions of love and desire to competition@funjunkie.co.uk and we'll select the best one to send the box of chocs to! You've got a week to get your cupid's arrows sharpened!
Love you longtime! *MWAH!*
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This morning started off as it does every weekday. I woke up, turned the alarm off, scratched my nuts, got out of bed and went downstairs for a bath.
Unusually though, when I returned to my dressing room, there was a large package with a note in it from Taz and Wild. It read:
Reg, please could you wear this mouse costume for us this morning as we will be filming a promotional video with Telly Savalas to promote cheese consumption within the target FJ demographic audience.
Fine, I thought. It's not the most unreasonable request the boys have given me, so I slipped on the suit. I walked down stairs, just as a delivery truck drew up outside...
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You know how it is... you and your partner have been out for a romantic meal, you've drunk wine all evening and now it's getting late. Let's face it... you're both getting randy.
But horror of horrors, you're out of contraceptives! Noooo! The condom packet lays empty on the bedside table... taunting you with its weighlessness. The shops are closed now so there's no chance of getting any more. The prospect of having a baby still fills you with a deep sense of dread, so that option's out the window.
Dammit! You'll just have to go back to the age-old method of employing a microbe-sized kid and his underwater killing machine to keep the sperm out. It's a common solution... we've all been there.
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Great, now weblogs are being attacked by marketeers and porn-wranglers not just through referral spam, but by first registering weblogs using the free Blogspot service and then using referral spam.
Take the Janet Jackson thing. We've just been referral spammed by these tossers:http://superbowl-janet-jackson.blogspot.com (not linked directly cos I don't want them to get any pleasure from it). They don't waste a second do they?
Nuke em from orbit. Its the only way to be sure.
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You've finally qualified as a member of the SAS. Its taken years of some of the most gruelling training imaginable. You've been beaten, pummelled, poked, wrenched, frozen, interrogated, tortured. You've survived it all and in the process you've become one of the most perfect fighting machines known to mankind. You're all ready to fight terrorists, counter insurgents, repel invaders.
And they put you up against planks. Its not right is it?
Ta, Ultimate Insult
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Do I look like the kind of eejit who'd find any excuse to get on the Funjunkie Friday Games list, even if that means posting a really crap one?
Yes?
You're damn right! Which is why it's about time you tried out MC Hawking's (yeah, you read it right... Professor Hawking the Phat Beatz mixin', Gangsa Rappin' MC)* Quake something-or-other.
Is it shit? You'd better believe it buddy!**
It occurs to me that we're not going to have any milk for tea next week.
*No animals were harmed in the making of this sentence, but we do expect several thousand cases of concussion over the next few hours, due to heads beating keyboards.
**A wombat was stepped on in the making of this sentence, which led to the massacre of 346 lemmings, the next door neighbour's dog, a herd of cows in the field behind FJ Towers and the Milkman.
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Look at you, sitting there, like a tub of old lard, with bits of toast crumb in it, and a fly crawling all over it.
Face it, you've been in better shape haven't you? But now you sit there, the morning after little friday, stuffing a breakfast cornish pastie into your face and chugging lucozade to try and stop yourself barfing. Ugh. You're pitiful.
Mind you, it could be worse. Your head could have fallen off your body, and you body needs to enlist the help of a semi-intelligent morphing meatball to try and reattach itself to you.
That kind of thing can really ruin your day.
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Hey! Are you okay? You look all lost and upset.
I know, I know... we've been a bit quiet of late. It's not my fault. I got stuck in the basement because I was trying to clean the wine racks, but the wombat accidentally* knocked over Wild's great great great great grandfather's suit of armour over... that fell down on the hatch and shut it tight when the axe landed under the lock mechanism.
Wild has been suffering from the mumps and his face looks a bit like a large sack of spuds**. Reg... well Reg has recently found a new charity shop in the neighbouring village and has been rummaging through their clothes racks for the last 3 days. Actually Wild and I are more concerned about Reg than anything else.
Cheer up you mouldy buggers! We've got you a daft game to play for a couple of hours.
I'll be back in a while. I'm just going out to milk the pigs***.
*Although I have my suspicions.
**There's no visible difference between this and when he was healthy last week.
***We ran out of cows last week after Wild's T-Bone steak barbecue party.
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Tintin's Flight 714 saw Laszlo Carreidas use hidden CCTV cameras to win a game of Battleships. Unfortunately for you, worms are too small to use CCTV on, as their hands are tiny. You'll just have to use your impeccable skill and judgement (with maybe a dash of luck) to win at Worm Battleships.
Thanks Trudi
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If you were paying attention at school*, you will know that shortly after Lef Brenham invented the sneeze in 1888, he went on to discover the wheel. Since then, rolling down hills in the cold and sniffy noses have gone hand in hand. Not that noses have hands. Or wheels, come to think of it. Anyway, here are some videos:
Right click and Save to disk to view Hill One Run (1.8Mb wmv file)
Right click and Save to disk to view Hill Two Run (1.8Mb wmv file)
*Which quite frankly we doubt.
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Biscuits that are Bands. Bands that are Biscuits! What could be simpler?
Lemme start you off with a couple. Post yours in the comments for this post:And no, you can't have Limp Bizkit.
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The time has come, ladies and gentlemen. Let the hallowed walls of power quake and rumble. Let the cry go out amongst the people that the time is nigh. Let it be known that an entire new era of being is about to commence.
Everything you've ever known will be different. Goodness will spread throughout the land. Everything bad will be eradicted without a thought, like dust in the wind.
And the herald of this new age of mankind? The bringer of the peace, the light and the truth?
Ladies and Gentlemen, we bring you Hasselhoff, Lord Chief Justice of the Supreme Court.
Tom, your service and dedication towards the Holy One will not go unrewarded in the New Land.
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One fine day, our heroes Reg and Wild are out for a nice drive in the country. They've been through a lot these two futuro-ninjas: near destruction at the hands of the Cho-Jin; witnessing the fall of the Rumna-Krabina; getting seperated from their unit in Vietnam and having to rough it for 8 months in the jungle; having to watch I'm A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here - everything.
And they've come through all these adventures relatively unscathed. Wild has a minor facial tick, whilst Reg can't finish any sentences without the words "cramp" or "flat-pack furniture" on the end of them.
But surviving for this long as they have done, they haven't avoided making many powerful enemies that will stop at nothing to see our heroes destroyed into smithereens, made into baked-beans and served up in tureens to hungry marines that later excrete them into the latrines.
A nasty fate I'm sure you'll agree. Can our fellas survive the terrible plottings of fevered evil minds?
Right click and Save to disk to view Tanks For Nothing (1.85Mb wmv file)
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Taz recently pointed out that us poor fellas are at a constant disadvantage because "We can't concentrate on anything because we're usually staring at a pair of breasts". Our concerntration is further diminished when girls send us in pictures of other girls boobs.
Not that we're complaining, like.
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"Right!" said Fred. "'Afta take the wall down. That there wall is gonna 'afta go...
And that was when the whole weekend turned into a demolition nightmare.
Cue flashback to Saturday morning...
Full Story >>
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Horse chestnut
Conkers from the Horse Chestnut "aesculus hippocastanum" will only germinate if they have passed through the intestines of a horse.
Unreliable Facts from The Brains Trust |
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A neutron walks into a bar. "I'd like a beer" he says.
The bartender promptly serves up a beer.
"How much will that be?" asks the neutron.
"For you?" replies the bartender, "no charge."
- Tommy Cooper |
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DeathGob
