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FJ regular Xavier noted that I was just chatting about Eropuri (again), and pointed me in the direction of the Incomplete Dictionary of Japanese Perversions.
You may be pleased to know it's all work safe. Stop tutting. Make sure you read up about brilliant fetishes such as Panchira and Tamakeri. There will be a test on it.
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We sent over our crack team of scientists over to RI:SE to ask some questions and do some experiments with Zora Suleman. We have been collating all the suggestions that you, the readers, keep sending in.
Here are a few of the results:
1. Zora has never been a hitman, or hitwoman.
2. Zora has never posed for eropuri, but she'd consider it for the right amount of cash.
3. Zora has never made a bomb to try and get her own back on some of the nastier kids at school.
The science team did unearth this little gem of information:
All of the above post is totally fictitious, it's only real in my head.
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Good luck to Magic Roundabout DJ and friend of FJ, Neale on the opening of his new side-project club night Bankrupt tonight at the Black Sheep in Northampton.
The night kicks off at 9pm, and the first 50 through the doors get a free CD from the playlist - so make sure you turn up early. The night runs until 2am, and admission is only two quid.
We have secured a deal with the management where anyone turning up to the night wearing a FJ t-shirt or badge will get a pat on the back - absolutely free!!!. Well, it's better than staying in to watch Holby City. Probably.
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For me, and millions of other saps around the world, today is payday. Unfortunately, I need to buy a pack of chewing gum to keep me alive until I can go to the bank at lunchtime. All my wallet has in it is an old bus ticket, a receipt for some glue and a couple of dead moths.
Oh, what to do? I need that gum to keep the hunger at bay. Hmmm. Maybe if I print out some fake cash I might just be able to palm it off on the less than intelligent work experience kids who seem to thrive in my local community...
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I had a very strange dream last night. One that made me bolt upright screaming "NOOOOOOOOOooooo!"
No, it wasn't about my friends the sharks. Instead, I was in a corner shop, and the shopkeeper was trying to sell me things. The shop was really tiny and cramped, but when you turned the corner of an aisle, there was always another aisle, off into infinity.
As I walked round, the shopkeeper shuffled backwards in front of me, and tried to sell each object. And what objects! Luckily, the dream was very vivid, and I can remember a few of them. He tried to sell me the following, amongst other stuff, to each of which I would give a stern "NO!":- A wheelbarrow full of bicycle wheels painted pink
- A half pound of shiny blue black beetles
- A towering collection of Elvis Costello records
- A dead half-eaten fox
- A mound of bacon sandwiches
- A signed picture of Jodie Kidd downing a martini
- 8 telephones, some rotary, some keypad
- A lemon
- A huge lemon the size of a car (not sure how that fitted in the aisle to be honest)
- a used shopping list
- A National Express ticket to Derby
I'm feeling slightly out-of-kilter this morning after that dream.
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Rumours are flying around that The Guardian may rerun their Best British Blog competition this year. Simon Waldman told me a month or so ago that they had had a meeting about it and were seriously considering it, and now ScaryDuck seems to know something we don't.
Could a Best British Blog competition be on the cards for this year? Not that we have a chance of winning* - but we're thoroughly entertained by the whole event and the histrionics it creates, and so we like it.
* unless they have a category for Best British Linklog, which we should win hands down, as long as we nobble Bloggerheads first, and GromBlog. Oh and Bifurcated Rivets. Dammit. We've got a lot of kneecapping, poisoning and general skullduggery to get done.
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Funjunkie Regular reader and resurrector of the Bug Jar, Ewano broke his arm recently in a freak accident involving a Freebord, a tangerine and a wombat. This has led to some unfortunate problems for our poor northern friend.
Fortunately the japanese have come up with a handy device to help him out...
Mild warning: NSFF (Not safe for fish)
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Thanks to current 'FJ Follower of the Year', MunkyBrains for sending us this lovely picture of him modelling our new FJ t-shirts.
Not only is he promoting the milky goodness of FJ, but he's crossed the streams, GhostBuster style, and gone and done a submission for Paper Bag Head too. That's the kind of forward thinking we approve of.
For all the people who have pre-ordered their t-shirts, please read an important announcement... Uh-oh
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Like and old tramp's coat, this one's just going on and on and on. The 'How to make a bomb' thread is now attracting the kiddies in wholesale proportions, all of whom seem to be obsessed with homophobia and fixated on bestiality. Which is nice.
Never let it be said that this website doesn't reach out to the community to tackle the real issues affecting it.
We're now up to 150 comments and running, with more golden nuggets of scything intelligence added all the time.
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It's about time we had a ninja update. We've been slacking off on the ninja front recently.
There are a couple of misconceptions about ninjas that we'd like to clear up. One, not all ninjas are svelte and toned (like us boys here at FJ). Two, not all ninjas want to inflict stealthy harm. You don't believe me? Say hello to the fat ninja of love.
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Thank God for that. I've been forlornly looking for it all this time!
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I'm having this posho dinner party tonight, but can't seem to sort out where everyone's gonna sit.
Kevin could go next to Cindy but then he's a gruff geordie and she's a posh hunting type. Kevin would happily sit next to Samantha, but then she'd have to sit next to Ben on the other side, and we all know why that's a bad idea.
James could sit next to Samantha and Mandy next to him, she's been gagging for a bit of hot James action, so that should work out alright. Hmm, but James goes for fat birds - perhaps Philippa should sit there. Mandy can sit next to George, he's always keen on the ladies, being a defrocked vicar and all.
I don't think I'll have the vicar molesting 2 ladies at the table thank you very much, so I'll break with tradition and have another man sit the other side of him. Mark will have to do, even though he did his time in jail for murdering a religious leader. Still, the conversation will prove interesting - might have to give him the plastic cutlery though. Now, I'll sit next to Cindy (give her a bit of the old accidental thigh rubbing if you know what I mean. wink. wink.) and Julie can sit next to Mark. I don't care if he had an affair with her and that she was committed to a stay in a 'rest hospital' when he left her - the two of them will just have to get on.
Blimey. Why is placesetting so difficult?
Cheers Bloggerheads
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We're quite interested in facial hair here at FJ Towers. See Face Fur below for proof. We'll have to really start squeezing hard on those folicles if we want to enter this year's World Beard Championships, because there's a lot of catching up to do.
Maybe I'll wait until the championships are held in London (2007).
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Have you had your lunch yet? If you have, you better not play around with the virtual frog dissector. So, OK, it's not a game as such - but it's education made fun.
It's better than scalpelling a bulls eyeball in half to see what it's retina looks like. Why did we have to do that by the way? Oh I remeber, it was to make Fruitbat go as white as a sheet and rush out of the classroom. Heh.
Be warned. It's all quite realistic. You sick puppies.
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I've been developing my mind reading device for quite some time now. The prototype is now up and running. The only draw back is that it weighs 3.5 tonnes, and it has to be powered by a Mr Fusion reactor that I got from the future. Hence, it's not very portable.
Since I couldn't take it on the road to test drive it on unsuspecting passers by, I had to coerce my fellow editors here at FJ Towers to try it out.
What a mistake. I'm fully aware that they're both a bit marginal when it comes to brains, but I still wasn't prepared for the results. Taz's mind is a haze of stripes and fishing, while Wild's is obsessed with the diet that he's on.
I've decided to destroy the machine, and burn the blueprints before anyone tries it on me.
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Fight! Fight! Fight!
Sound of UK webloggers gathering into a tight noisy huddle around two figures wrestling each other to the floor.... Occasionally a surreptitious boot is put in to help things along....
We all love a good fight, which is why we're enjoying the poll as to who is best between longtime favourite of ours Scaryduck and verdant UK blogveteran, Greenfairy.
Ooo, decisions, decisions. You should vote for Scary cos he has a lesbian cat, suffers from slight incontinence, once shared a romantic Black Forest Gateau with Sarah Greene and cos he backs up the Dorset Bloggers* contingent.
However, you should vote for Greenfairy cos she brings you top quality linkage like The 100 Worst Porn Movie Titles (NSFW).
Dammit. I can't decide. Gonna have to come up with some sort of random tie-breaker.
I know, the contender that first mentions the words 'poorly kitten' in their blog gets my vote.
Now on with it! We want scratching, hair-pulling and gouging, and we want lots of it. And screaming.
* The DBA (Dorset Bloggers Association) consists of just me and him.
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Have you got that Friday feeling yet? Oh well, have another cup of tea. Maybe a choccy biscuit too.
While you're warming up for the weekend, how about a quick voyage into the world of turn based mech battles? The Funjunkie Friday game™ marathon kicks off with the stupendous (and quite frankly, bizarrely named) Immortal Grand Prix. Dust off your rocket launchers and get out from behind those trees!
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I mean, why the hell would you be using magnetic telescopes to push a ball around into a hole anyway? Wouldn't you just pick up the fucker and put it in the hole yourself and then go to the pub to save all that time?
Quite. I mean, its fun and addictive and all, but its not as fun as the pub is it?
Cheers Coolios.
Its actually a clever advert for Dyson Vaccuum Cleaners, but ignore that, just concentrate on trying to beat my round of 131, 46 over par, godammit.
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Thinking is a waste of time.
If I thought about what I should write in these posts before I actually did them, then they'd never get done.
I guess that no one ever did any thinking then we'd be in trouble. Damn, I'm thinking now... anyway, here are a whole bunch of deep thoughts for you to... er, think about.
#275: If I was a cowboy in a lynch mob, I think I'd try to stay near the back. That way, if somebody shamed us into disbanding, I could sort of slip off to the side and pretend I was window-shopping or something.
Pinched from the bloody nice Bloggerheads, who in turn nicked it from TTR2. But that's OK, we're all friends here - Right?
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Hulk Crash! Bash! Smash! Destrooooy things!
Oh wait, no, these little'uns aren't big and green - they're just wee kids who like to smash up stuff in a rock star tantrum kinda way!
Online Multiplayer Smashy-up goodness with Protokids - chuck anvils at big expensive boats until they're completely destroyed. Sorta like the smash-up bonus rounds you used to get in games such as Streetfighter but sadly don't anymore, cos they were the best bit.
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Do you want to know who ate all the pies? This lot did. Yes, 28 people have passed the exclusive entry test, and eaten enough pasties to gain membership in the 900 club.
That's 900 pounds. In fat. That roughly equates (in real measurements) to about 14.23 stones. Which is a lot.
Guess which country 25 out of the 28 come from? No, not Latvia. No. It's not Ethiopia. No, try again...
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Wild is evil. When he's not cracking the whip, forcing me and Taz to lick his boots clean, he's down in the cellar breeding and training his robot monkey army.
I've decided that I'm going to create an army too. I haven't decided whether it's going to go head to head with Wild's army, or whether I should join with his to make a FJ super batallion. Decisions decisions.
What I have done is put in my order for 10,000 of each of these Super Dope Robots. I might get the matching t-shirt too.
I've no idea what these robots do, but they look great. Their styling is down to: "A metaphor does powerfulness with the front leg like a gorilla, too." Quite.
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Funjunkie's very own resident porn star: Rich Wild, was devastated in the 80s when the Swedish crap porn industry fell into decline. The reason it seemed, was down to the fact that the famous Black Handlebar Moustache was going swiftly out of fashion. In despair, Wild shaved off his bushy wonder and left the industry to carve out a new career in making knitted socks for underprivileged hedgehogs.
Today we can bring you good news and even better news:
The good news is: The tache is back!
The even better news is: Wild has decided to stick with his plan of creating a race of evil monkey robots... so no danger of any Milkman meets Bored Housewife related movies.
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FJ regular Xavier just noticed a really handy tip on the back of his disposable camera:
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There's oodles of photoshoppery goodness just waiting to happen when you go and visit Tack-O-Rama - the archive of yesteryear's exceedingly good looks.
Take this advert for example. Now who doesn't want a spray that kills all David Blaines? His perspex box would be no armour against my death cloud toxins. Comes with 30 day money back guarantee.
 Available at all good outlets NOW! |
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Wild let the cat out of the bag earlier that he likes to think of Gina Lollobrigida when writing his posts. Which is nice. Apparently it puts him in the right frame of mind. I'm suprised the man doesn't need glasses.
So Wild likes 60's starlets with extra prominent bossoms. I quite like them too, but I'm going to have to wait a while for good old Gina to be really my type.
Unfortunately she's still going (I would say strong, but that'd be a lie), so I'll just have to hang on for a bit more until she karks it and can become one of my beloved Zombie Pin-ups.
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A few choice tips from the World's top bloggers:
1. As with all Web pages, update it frequently and put interesting stuff on it.
2. Don’t try to please an audience, and don’t post simply because you feel like you ought to – only post when you have something to say.
3. Know your audience.
Right then suckers: I was looking for valuable, informative and amusing stories for you to share in, but all I could find was a copy of your family album.
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Speaking of hypocrisy, I'm sending along a whole mindfull of mental abuse towards The Sun today, for being the biggest hypocrites since George Bush announced that bombing people was wrong.
Yesterday, The Sun ran a headline in an early edition of the paper with the title "Bonkers Bruno", a story sensationalising the sectioning of National Hero Frank Bruno.
Today's take on things? Slightly different. Now suddenly they're posturing themselves as champions of compassion towards people with mental conditions?
Oh purrrlease.
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Well, seeing as I've uninvitedly been adding to the 47 top tips of blogging then I thought I'd better follow my own guidelines, you miserable sacks of shit.
Look at you. Dirty, unkempt, stinking of stale sweat and alcohol. You don't deserve to read this weblog, you poor excuse for a human.
Hmmm. Zora Suleman - may she be employed by Channel 4 News once RI:SE finishes.
Oh look! Kittens!
There. Now no-one can call me a hypocrite.
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There are only a very few times when wearing a Cod Piece is acceptable.
1. When you are contact sport, and you have left your box at home.
2. When doing hilarious Black Adder impressions.
3. When impersonating 80's Prince loolalikes.
Word Up!
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The shit films post below sparked off a bit of venom, so to calm everyone down (eh, eh, calm down, calm down) here's a nice happy film.
Evil Robot Ape vs. Little Monkey.
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We've been talking about shit films in the forums for quite a while now. Current FJ Follower of the Year, MunkyBrain has decided that we should settle the discussion once and for all.
Film 2003 with Jonathan Woss has set up a voting page where you can nominate your worst film. I opted for French attocity 8 femmes a.k.a. 8 women.
Tell us where your vote is going in comments.
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New FJ regular Ewano thought he ought to bring this important link to our attention. It's Star Trek on Ice.
I don't know about you, but I've always been more of a Star Wars fan myself. Well, I was until another Star Trek link was brought to my attention. Sexy Star Trek girls? Surely that's illogical captain? Illogical no, totally unsafe for work, yes.
You've been warned!
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So, this weekend, as you're no doubt well aware by now, we painted the mini (Gina) so that when it comes last in the Italian Job Rally, it can at least do it in some semblance of style.
We were well prepared - 2 cases of lager, a bunch of drunken rowdy onlookers and a calendar featuring all the ladies who have done their duty for Queen and Country and bared flesh for Funjunkie. Gawd bless them and all who sail in them.
Oh, and we also had some black gloss paint and some spray cans.
Read on for the pics...
Full Story >>
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Hey! I've got a great idea! Why don't we set up the new FJ 'big smoke' branch in the window of swanky department store Selfridges?
Ah, someone's done that already.
OK then, why don't we start up the satellite office in a glass case suspended over Tower Bridge?
DAMN, some psycho twit has beaten us to that as well. Oh well, at least we can chuck sausages at him until he's dead.
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I've just submitted a picture of Wild's flaming mini to the List of Modified Cars that are Rubbish. Let's hope it makes the grade and gets included in the top trumps style hit parade of jalopies. I'm sure it will.
In the meantime, here's a sneaky peek at what we got up to at the weekend:
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You've been out on the lash... you've had about 20 too many... you've found a traffic cone and a handy statue of the local village egotist of the 18th century who once said something so notable that he got himself cast in bronze for eternity but nobody can remember what the words were. What are you going to do? Stick a traffic cone on his bonce? Come on, we've all done it!
But not you, oh no. You're more likely to strip off naked and start simulating various sexual acts that are best left in your own imaginations instead of typed here on our sweet, naive little collection of prose.
No doubt you, Funjunkie's finest, will be able to contribute in some way with your own photos of Statue Molesters.
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We have a great tradition of letting you, the public, decide on our fate.
On August 18th, our leader Wild told us to choose him a holiday. Taz suggested he buy a mini and go on the Italian Job.
In the absence of other coherrant ideas, he accepted the challenge. He went out and bought a jalopy of a mini, and prayed that it would work.
Tonight we're going to start painting it. Full report as soon as we recover from the hangover.
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Well, I would serve you up a Famous* Funjunkie Friday Game but today is the day of the annual FJ HQ staff photo and whilst we got Taz all cleaned up (eventually) and managed to stop the wombat spreading jam all over Reg**, the staff cats*** just won't sit still for the photograph. Pesky critters.
I've always argued in our board meetings that they're overpaid, but Taz reckons**** that they're a lynchpin in the organisation.
* famous in several truck stops up and down the M5.
** Don't ask.
*** They're employed in the typing pool, but don't actually type anything due to the fact that we've never written anything.
**** He also reckons that cheese is made by the government to keep the populace sedated, which just goes to show you the value of his opinions doesn't it?
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You might think that the following request on a Scottish forum might warrant a helpful answer:"I am looking for information on the name Sillars as we seem to to have hit a 'brickwall' here in Australia -my darling father in law was born in Morrison Street, Edinburgh - please help I need information for the next generation of Sillars - thank you Scotland!" Innocent enough request isn't it?
Apparently not.
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You may think that toast is pretty unspecial, but toast is special. Toast is easy. Toast is fun. Toast is tasty!
We like toast. We like toast so much that we're going to add it to the list of things FJ likes.
Here's the list:- Wombats (when they behave)
- David Hasselhoff
- Domo
- Ninjas
- Booze
- Cheese
- Monkeys
- Hamsters (not in a Gere way.)
- Toast
There are probably some others that I've forgotten cos its Friday.
Anyway, where was I? Yes, TOAST! Toast is AMAZING! Its just hot bread, but its not, its so much more. It just has so much more to give!
And I'm not alone in loving toast. The Toast Museum is right there with me, celebrating the history of burnt bread and the instruments we have used over the years to produce the wondrous snack of the gods.
In fact, its so great that you should get the book!
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Today is Friday. I know you've been chomping at the bit to play our FJ friday games. Fret not - they start here.
To start you off, we have the antithesis of yesterdays Krassair. In the vain of Donnie Darko and walking in circles, I'm happy to present a game that forces you to use your grey matter.
If you're not up to using your brain as yet, try landing those jumbos again. If you are feeling mentally dexterous, envelope yourself in this beautiful world of easily distracted goats, baby burning and key holding squirrels. Get ready for colony 1864...
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Speaking of Ewano, let's see if we can convince him to restart up the IRC chat honeypot hilarity that was The BugJar. Erkle: Hello
Agent 004: Fishing rod
Erkle: LOL
Agent 004: Fishing rod
Erkle: Cool where U @
Agent 004: Fishing rod
Erkle: Hello infinity about ten hellos most peopl start swaering Keep em on and they go nuts
Agent 004: Fishing rod
Erkle: Haha location?
Agent 004: Fishing rod
Erkle: Hello
Agent 004: Fishing rod
(This went on for more than ten minutes, about 50 replies back and forth, until...)
Erkle: Looser copycat u are a dip shit
Agent 004: Fishing rod
Erkle: Bye fishing rod
Agent 004: Fishing rod
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KesselsKramer is a pizza factory.
No wait, KesselsKramer is a library.
Hang on, KesselsKramer is a disco.
Huh? KesselsKramer is a toothpaste?
What the? KesselsKramer is an international communications contracter?
Multi-Refresh button goodness, from KesselsKramer.
Thanks to eagle eyed FJ reader, Ewano, who broke his arm recently. Perhaps he should give up the Freeboarding and leave it to the professionals.
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I'm having a competition. Lets see how many mentions of FJ or B3tan words we can manage to get on Radio 1 today.
(FJ words include 'wombat, ninja, David Hasselhoff' etc. whilst B3tan words include the likes of 'Furtive, Nohands, The Fear' etc.)
You get bonus points if you get them to say 'glasscock'.
The disadvantage is that you have to listen to Radio1, but its only for a day, and you can probably turn it off when Mark and Lard start their tedious 1-joke show in the afternoon.
The text number for Radio1 is 81199.
Don't care how you do it.
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Yaaaarrrrrrrrrr.
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Last year the kids got their own forums for asking sex education questions. Classic topics were soon to appear:
this is kinda grose but my mate told me her dog licked her out, can she get pregnant.
Let's hope the new drugs forums take off with equal acclaim. I think they might:
If you take speed, do you go faster?
I can't wait for the rock 'n' roll section.
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Ooh Crikey! You've enjoyed your week off in Bognor Regis and now you're on the plane home to Slough. You're suntanned, relaxed, and you're wearing your 'Kiss Me Kwik' souvenir hat. You're a jolly sight indeed!
Suddenly though, as the plane begins its descent a call comes over the cabin tannoy that the captain has suffered from a unexpected total blackout caused by him remembering that he's afraid of heights.
Oh dear. Who the hell's gonna land the sucker? Yes, thats right! You, of course!*
Krassair - use your left and right cursor keys to keep the plane flying until it reaches the right altitude to make a runway pass. Much harder than it would at first appear.
* The co-pilot's too busy listening to his Christina Aquilera mp3s. Typical.
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We get some wierd shit here at FJ, seeing as we have a 2.5 year archive of links, each of which still attracts Google visitors who sometimes decide to leave comments on those posts.
They reckon we don't see them seeing as the post is well in the past. But thanks to the magic of Michael Elphick, we can.
So, imagine my surprise when this nutter started up this morning. The very effort that went into it for no reward other than the satisfaction of a comments page well and truly plastered with shit is quite staggering.
In fact, he/she deserves some sort of reward.
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Crikey, or should I say 'shiver me timbers!'. My inbox this morning was brimming with newsworthy emails.
First off I had an offer to sell my car boat tractor (I'd love to, but it's in the garage at the moment getting a new set of skis). Next there was a quiz from pop-combo Blur, which I scraped 5 out of 10 on.
Then there was a mail from ex-regular* 'Phil the Power Simms' reminding us that tommorow is talk like a pirate day. I'm letting you know in advance so you can practice in your lunch break today.
*He's been at fat camp for the last couple of months
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Right people, listen up. Time for a FUSP*.
We're about to lose the Cod. Because we're creatures of habit we keep buying cod even though we're farming it to collapse.
And the reason why cod is still on the menus despite this? Because we're so apathetic that we ask for it still. Yes - you, sitting there looking innocent, I'm talking to you.
Last time you had fish and chips what did you order? My money's on cod. Last time you had fish fingers I bet they weren't made from Hoki fillets were they? No.
So the big fishing companies keep catching what little cod is left because we're not demanding anything else. Its not their fault, they're ruled by money.
Its our fault. What we demand, they provide. So pack it in and have something else. There's plenty of alternative.
* Funjunkie Unusually Serious Post.
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I'll give you one guess at which country is offering a huge cash prize to the winner of the 2003 Rock Paper Scissors world championship.
OK, here's a clue: the prize is $5000.
Got it yet? Yes, of course, it's America! The land where everything has to be super-sized.
We have a far more thrilling contest coming up soon here in blighty. The 2003 World Conker Championships, held in Ashton on October 12th. Book your tickets now. The winners don't get $5000. They get a nice yellow sweat shirt, a shiny silver cup, a pat on the back, and last, but not least, a polite smattering of applause.
N.B. It's funny how the only information I could find on the event was on an American Ice-cream website
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We all know that Taz is moving at the moment. He's having to spend less time at the FJ Tower offices, and more time co-ordinating his new living arrangements.
That's fine by me. I get to use his office for a couple of days. Ah, bliss. Where's my tea refill?
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Here's another great spin on the old classic of doing stuff to people who have passed out drunk - penis cheek.
Yes it's incredibly puerile. That's why I thought you'd like it.
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You know how it is. You're sitting in the office, trying to catch the attention of the person who's just got up to make a round of Teas, lazily picking your nose with the sharp end of a 1 meter wooden ruler, when suddenly...
Taz can't think of anything else to make upin this story. This is probably because I work from home, so there isn't anybody else here to make the tea. Inconsiderate bastards!
Returning swiftly to the story I started on Monday, which had nothing to do with Chocolate Caramel biscuits... ooh, olives! We've all seen table football games on the web before, and the less said about them the better, which is why I'm going to tell you about them. They're generally crap.
This one isn't, unless of course you disagree with me, in which case it still isn't because I know more about these things than your cat does. Goodbye.
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We've had Magnetic Poetry on FJ before of course, but this version's much better, you can edit the poems that previous people have left.
Brought to you by the people who created the massive Rubik's Cube prank a while ago, its jolly spiffing.
If you're quick enough, you'll be able to edit my little poem, which I have called "The Joy of Dogs":The Joy of Dogs by Wild
You run away scared from the wild dog,
roaring in fright,
but singing:
I have the horn. Beautiful isn't it? You'll find it on the 1st board, if it hasn't been destroyed by some philistine by now..
I think it captures the very essence of lassitudes of love and social anomaly, based upon centuries of parochial repression and parallelisms of subtext on industrio-cultural signifiers.
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Uh-Oh. It looks as though today is going to be one of those 'silly days', but aren't they all?
Cheer someone up by sending them a delightful e-card that you have made yourself, courtesy of forget stamps. If you're lost for inspiration, check out the one Wild took the time and effort to create for me.
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We like hamsters. Hamsters are ridiculous. Hamsters are pointless. Hamsters don't even know why they exist.
Which is exactly the sort of qualities that make them better than George Bush when in Office.
They've proven time and time again all over the world that a small furry mammal can successfully govern entire nations to the extreme satisfaction of their citizens.
Their fiscal policies are incredibly accurate, their social policies positively utopian and their attitude to foreign politics is a breath of fresh air. In short, they make the perfect politician.
So at a time when George Bush is turning the world's most powerful nation into a stinking quagmire of hate and nervouse brutality, what better time than now to vote in a Hamster for President? You know it makes sense.
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We bung you people free badges, and then ask for some photos of you wearing the badges, and what do we get?
Look kids, don't do this at home. MunkyBrains probably didn't sterilise the badge pin, and we don't want to be liable for nutters like him.
If you want one of our badges, that's fine, but use it responsibly.
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We're a curious lot here at FJ towers. Curious as in plain odd, and curious as in wondering about a lot of odd stuff. There are quite a few questions that we haven't yet resolved.
Maybe if we ask the info desk at please let me know if you have any questions, we may get some answers. I somehow doubt it.
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Today's Superhero theme* continues with a tale of Angle Grinder Man.
He's angry, he's English, he goes round chopping off wheel clamps. It's about time we had some super heroes of our very own in Blighty. Coming soon, more proper English superheros: Kebab Man - he lends you that extra 30p to get chili sauce; Wolf Whistle Man - he attract the attention of the ladies, because you're incapable.
etc
*I think I mentioned Batman in a post earlier, possibly because we're talking the usual bollocks in the forums.
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To follow on from Wild's lead, here's another curious kink for you: loose pantie elastic. Don't worry, it's all perfectly work safe*.
Is there a corrolation between public humiliation by loose pantie elastic and celery? The Frahm Instititute certainly think there could be. They make a promising case in favour of celery's pantie elastic loosening effects.
Maybe my temporary phenomenon of me unexplainedly smelling of celery was a subconscious way of getting girl's panties to fall down - I just don't know. The research is being hastily implemented.
Finally, do you think this young lady has a stick of celery in her handbag. I'd guess yes.
*All the boys go DRAT
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Do you like space? Do you like women? Then you'll love the fantastic bacofoil-inspired collection of chicks in spacesuits through the ages.
No? Doesn't really do it for you? Oddball.
Never mind, I've catered for people like you and come up with a backup plan. Women in Diving suits!
What? You're not into that either? Geddoutta here you freak! You'll be after the wierd stuff next door, like pictures of people wrestling in custard or something.
Cheers UltimateInsult.
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"Holy flying kegs, Batman! We can't let that beer get fizzed up!"
"Shut up you fat teddy bear, and unload the truck".
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Hey kids, even if you don't want one of our terrific FJ badges for absolutely free, you should check out these other badges just because they made me smile.
Coming soon: FJ t-shirts
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Heck, it must be 'trawl through the channel 4 site' day today. FJ regular Xavier has just pointed me in the direction of Grand Slam.
Is this the ultra-toughest quiz on the web? It might just be. My best score so far is 5 out of 10 on quiz number seven.
Post your best scores (and the quiz that you got it on) in the comments. Prepare to be baffled...
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Recently the catwalk job offers from Milan and Paris have been a bit thin on the ground, here at FJ Towers. This could be due to the fact that Wild broke the only shower 3 weeks ago while attempting to 'fix' the annoying jets (that were firing anywhere but down), using only a baseball bat and a can of WD40.
So it's been suggested that we all get a bit of a change of image. Unfortunately the camera was digested by the wombat a couple of days ago, so instead I've done a rough sketch of my new Kieth Flint look.
Thanks Kat for finding that one.
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Imagine inventing a new sport. Something like hang-gliding for instance.
You've either got to have really big balls, or no brain. Or maybe a combination of the both. Who in their right mind would jump of a cliff with just a pair of wings made out of kite material. It's nuts!
Thankfully you can try this high octane, adrenaline inducing crazy sport in the comfort of your own home. Or your own office, just don't let anyone see. Try bunging yourself off cliffs in Canyon Glider. No broken bones - guaranteed.*
*We can't guarantee that personally by the way. You may damage two of your fingers.
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The brains at E4 have decided it would be a terrific idea if you, yes you, could draw them a picture. They'll use this picture between commercials or something, but only if it's good enough.
Which it won't be, because you're doing it. And you've only got a whacking great virtual marker pen to do it with. And because I've already done the winning design (see right).
But give it a go anyway, you may get lucky.
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Scary's feeling bolstered by the recent success of his Worst Movie in the World polls, so he's going onto the next level. What is the Worst Musical Act the world has even seen?
Suggestions? Well, you have your obvious ones of course, like Girls Aloud or Busted, but I'm sure we can do better than that surely?
How about Extreme, who sucked like a Dyson despite having one of the finest virtuoso guitarists in the world? Anyone remember the truly dire "Get the Funk Out?"
Hmm, Could add a few more rock bands to that list as well - Thunder, The Scorpions ("Ja, Vind ov Change ist sehr toll!").
Choices. Choices.
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Hey kids, I've got messed up in some heavy shit again. Somehow or other, one of my alter egos has decided it would be fun to do a 70's disco and funk night. I must have been drunk when I agreed to that.
If you want to come and have a laugh at me, I'll be acting the goat at Shaft down at the Roadmender in Northampton tommorow night.
Entry is £4 in advance, £5 on the door. Doors open at 10pm, burning out at 3am.
Please don't treat me like David Blaine and throw eggs and rocks at me.
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So like, you're one of the Alkaline Trio, and they're like a band you've like never heard of but er like there's this sweet chick called Rose McGowan and she gon give you some hot poontang which is like totally sweet but then you gon git run downed and deaded and go on up to heaven un they send you down to hell to kill evil Skeletor so you can uh like git alive again and git you some o dat poon.
And you like got records which you can chuck but its like you're uh walking with icy shoes on cos you're like slip sliding all over the shop but thats ok cuz Mr. T is in it and he gots a great ship to take you from Heaven to Hell which is like... er... neat.
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I am shocked and upset that a site such as Hot Naked Hamsters can brazenly take photographs of innocent derobed mammals and publicly display these pornographic filths to all and sundry. And I do mean sundry. You disgusting perverts. You all make me sick. Why, one day I'm gonna do something about you ill-headed mutants. You're the cause of everything thats wrong with society and I won't stand for it. I shall 'out' you with glee in my eyes. You sick perverts. Poor hamsters, why, why do they have to suffer in such public shame and dishonour? I will find every single last one of you filthy, greasy, plastic macintoshed mammal-porn seekers and I will have terrible vengeance upon your lives. You will scream for mercy as I teach you the wicked ways of your perverted ways.
Now, naked wombats, thats another matter. Phwoar. The little minxes. They want it.
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It's soon going to be the new craze.
It could become bigger than The house of Ninja. It's going to kick Jeff Goldblum is watching you poop into touch.
It's Paper Bag Head!
All the need to do now is get the submissions page sorted out. I'm sure I saw him creeping around FJ Towers this morning... it could have been Wild though. You never can tell.
UPDATE: Mr Paperbag has let us know that you can send in your sightings to info(at)paperbaghead.com
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We've blasted your brains, now we're going to test your driving skills. Today's turning out to be a bit like the Krypton factor. Which, if you didn't know, is the 5th Best ever UK game show. Alledgedly.
Are you pleased to be here, or is that a Knugg Rally in your pocket?
sorry
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Hey, you know Noddy Holder, when he shouts "IT'S CHRISTMAS!!!", well: "IT'S FRIDAY!!!"
That means it's time to crack open the champagne and head down to the Funjunkie Friday Games room. The keys went missing for a while, but Taz found them on a chair. He put them on my seat, but then put a whoppee cushion on top of the keys, and so they got mislaid for a while.
Now that we've got 'em back, let's get your braincell out of it's bag and start giving it some excercise. Yes, we're starting with a tricky one again, just to wake you up. Get some extra strong mints in, and have a go at
Catch 33. Post your scores in the comments box.
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Are you a bit confused by today? Do you wish it was friday so you could go home and get completely bladdered on cheap lager? Do you feel as if you're trying to find the key, but those big floating blue faces just keep on stopping you? Do you feels as if you're trying to get through a Glass World where you can see the exit, but don't know how to get there?
If so, stop eating those mushrooms.
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Everybody knows that we, the Funjunkie editors, are the nicest and most generous people you've ever had the privilege to meet. We're always giving things away... stickers, badges, toasters and camcorders... we've done it all.
That's because we're minted you see. Here at FJ Towers, weve got a room filled with £50 notes, which Wild built a special diving board over. We've got a huge garage filled with Aston Martins, Rollers, Bentleys and one mini. But you've only got a clapped out Vauxhall Nova.
Today we're feeling so lovely that we've decided that you all deserve to have the pleasure of driving a Porsche. You lucky lucky people!
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Does anyone know the details of a company that makes human sized Jiffy bags?
I want to be able to say "I'll be back in a Jiffy" and really mean it.
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In the warm up to the weekend, here's an early Friday Game. Yes, I know it's not Friday, but this weekend is going to need a lot of warming up.
Enjoy yourself in this immersive world of ponies and castles. Send your love irradiating out to all the flowers to make them bloom all the more sweeter.
Oh. News just in. They scrapped that bit. You're still a fluffy bunny, but now you're armed to the teeth, on a mission of vicious retribution. You are the Gunny Bunny.
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Just a reminder for you.
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My glasses just snapped in half.
Everything now looks like this:
Help. Please donate me some new spectacles. I'm bound to get kicked in on the way home.
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In November 2000, John Titor travelled back from 2036, post World War III ravaged Earth, in his time machine to pick up an old IBM 5100 series computer from an ancestor of his.
Of course he did.
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I've got a mate called Tom Smith. He was once picked up by the fuzz and asked his name. When he replied 'Tom Smith' they thought he was having a laugh, and started to beat him with their night-sticks.
All of that is true, apart from the last bit. How common is your name? Check yours out with the (quite frankly ridiculously named) Name Statistics site. Unfortunately, it won't shed any light on the matter, because all the results are from America. Which is useless. It's nice to know that 'El Reggio' is a rare name in the US of A.
That IS my real name... honest
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So the Summer Burn was a success for the majority of participants (although I did have to do quite a bit chasing up).
But what if you've listened to your CDs and you're clamouring for more? Or you missed the signup this time around and you're feeling left out?
Hey, don't be sad - don't you know that sharing your mix tapes is the new black?! Just like when we were kids and we would make mix tapes for our mates - now you can do the same! Everybody's doing it!
Compilation Nation has been created especially for you. Share your favourite playlists, make new ones up, rise up to the challenge of creating custom playlists based on themes. You can even arrange to swap CDs based on those playlists with other members.
And best of all. Its free. Gratis. Costs you nada. All done out of the spirit of sharing your music with others.
Its what the internet was made for.
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If letting your frustration out on Tony Blair didn't do the trick for you, I've got another solution.
Make fun of yourself and your work colleagues at the same time. Here's what you do. While the target colleague (let's call him Clive) is doing a presentation / copying some documents / having an important client phone call; run up behind him, and start disco dancing.
The trick is not to get caught, hence the term: Stealth Disco. Get out there and start boogeying.
I just did it to myself. I'm alone in the office.
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You've been up for a few hours now, after you were rudely awakened by the bailiffs. You managed to get to work after sitting in traffic for what seemed like 5 days, with no car stereo because it got nicked last week. You've spoken to 3 furious clients who wanted you to sort out every life problem they have ever experienced, and sort it out yesterday.
You're probably a little stressed.
Doctor Taz presribes a good dose of Blair and Bush arse kicking. If symptoms persist, consult a real doctor, like Who.
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Erm. Hi.
My, you look nice today. Have you changed your hair? Well, whatever you've done, you look fan-bloody-tastic.
You, er, know I asked for an Aquada last week? Well, you, er didn't order one for me already did you? Its just that I, er, I've changed my mind.
I'd like a Terrawind instead.
I'm sure they'll take the Aquada back. I do apologise.
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Tonight's the night for the 2003 Mercury Music Prize to be dished out.
I still haven't put my tenner on The Darkness to win, and probably won't get round to it before tonight either. I'm going shopping for 'door furniture'. Ahem.
If you're still not sure who to back, listen to a couple of the tracks courtesy of auntie. If the Darkness don't get it it's not that big a deal. I'll be saving myself that virtual tenner (which I can then spend down the boozer), and another great band will get it. That Athlete's a grower...
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I've taken a break from reading books on the bus on the way to work at the moment. I've become totally engrossed in playing Pokemon Sapphire.
OK, I'm 27 and I shouldn't be playing kiddie video games, but... it's all in the name of research! I've found that some of the content is a lot more adult than you'd first expect. Take for example the humble Ralts:
 Ralts, recently
How did he get past quality control? Thankfully his special attack isn't throwing hot white coconuts of love, otherwise there would be a few complaints from the parents.
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You can forget your Pop Idols and your Fame Academies. These sorts of programmes have been killing our pop music for years by diluting it to such an extent that its now the culinary equivalent of watery cabbage soup. There's nothing in it that grabs kids anymore. They have nothing to identify with.
Well, all that has now changed. The song to unite the kids to rise up against their establishment overlords has arrived. And J. Picking is the Bob Dylan of the Noughties.
Blimey. I've only just realised that I've been staring mesmerised at it for over 10 minutes.
Someone get it released in the charts NOW!!
You'll need your speakers on.
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So whilst I'm on the subject of feet and rock bands, how many foot-related bands can you name? Leave your ones in the comments for this post. Here's a few to get you started: - KC and the Shoeshine Band
- James Lavelle And A.N.K.L.E
- Jimmy (Toe)Nail
- Foo(t) Fighters
- Jesus (Creepers) Jones
- Black Lace(s)
- Electric (Size) Six - (sorry!)
- Grandmaster (Dunlop Green) Flash
- Adamski (Boots)
- Pearl (Toe) Jam
I'll get me coat...
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Last night I had a dream that my feet had joined a Rock Band. They had played the bass for some time, and managed to get noticed by the band whilst jamming in a local bar sesh. The band needed a bass player, my feet wanted to rock, so naturally they joined forces.
In the beginning it was a right laff. Because I was associated with my feet I got to meet the glitterati that hang out in cool trendy bars, got to fly the skies in private jets to exotic places, got loads of money to buy my feet all the posh footwear they could ever have dreamed of.
But then things went sour. Unbeknownst to me, my feet had started on the coke, and things were getting out of hand with the ladies. Groupies would traipse in and traipse out like cattle to be dipped. Then the drink started up, and combined with the drugs, my feet became real arseholes to know. They sneered at me almost constantly and talked of getting amputated and re-attached to a piano or something.
So let that be a lesson to you. Yes.
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Today is a bit of a SND - Slow News Day. Taz and Wild are working on a anti-matter teleporter in the cellar. It was working just fine until they sent Stephen Hawking through it, and a rather vicious cyborg came out the other end.
So while they're dealing with destructive forces, I've been left holding the keys again. The search wombats haven't returned with their usual cache of interweb goodies, so I decided to take the desperate measure of travelling back through time via the archives.
This day last year was a weekend, so no luck there. Two years ago... the forums opened for business! We've got a sub-birthday celebration to attend to! Break out the Babycham and wotsits! We've been talking crap behind the scenes for two years! Woo!
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It's Monday! Are you feeling a bit down, and slightly worn out? Of course you are! You're probably still hung over from the elderflower wine tasting at your auntie Bruce's, aren't you?
Here's a cure that will put the zip back into your step, and the pizazz back into you pizzer. Stare at these stationary snakes. If you see them moving, then call the doctor, make an appointment, then sneak off home to watch re-runs of Happy Days!
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Do you want your very own Funjunkie Badge?
 Nearly actual size
If you do, you're going to have to work for it. Unless you want to pay for it, in which case you don't have to work for it at all. We know you're all cheapskates and love a bit of free tat, so it's highly unlikely that you'll get your wallets out.
Find out in the Earn your FJ stripes forum what you have to do to get your filthy mitts on one.
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We ran an article on eropuri on the 27th of August. Since then, we have somehow got the reputation as number one site in the world for information on the erotic sticker craze.
There's obviously a lot of people out there who want to see the evidence, but there just isn't any. Anywhere.
So here is your task for the weekend. Go and find a sticker booth. Get some stickers made of yourself 'being erotic'. Send them in. Get world famous.
I'm pretty sure that there isn't a sticker booth in my hometown, but rest assured, if I find one, I'll be eropuri-ing like I've never done before. Which I haven't.
Go forth Funjunkie readers!
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Sometimes you just have to let things run and run, like the current thread of comments on our much despised 'How To Make A Bomb' post.
Currently standing at 76 comments - its not the longest thread in the world, but its becoming more and more entertaining with every bomb-recipe-seeking loser that adds their unrighteous indignation to it.
Its become fascinating just seeing what maggots crawl out from under their rocks just to post. A couple of examples:"i need to get revenge on a some kid that bashed my face into a skateboard i need a smal bomb to hurt hima lil (sic) please help" and"there is a small bomb wot i made once, u need match ends, wire and an electric lighter clicker fing, and some tin foil, n shit some1 up wen they wlk past,. lol! more info, add me"
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Text based adventures are not exactly the pinacle of online entertainment. This much I think you'll agree.
However, a recently unearthed example puts you in a rather different setting from the usual 'you are in a clearing' rubbish RPG fare. In this adventure, you have to earn yourself punk points to escape from your humdrum suburban drudgery.
I was in the bathroom looking at my weakling body in the full length mirror (no I haven't started talking about me ablutions this morning, it's a scene in the adventure). This was my next action:
>Take a dump
>For the duration of this game, you have an infinitely expanding bladder and intestinal tract.
If only
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You can't work on a Friday! Pack it in! This instant!
I'm disgusted with you. I've been watching you on my secret perv-cam and you were definitely working. I saw it.
Don't deny it. I'm thoroughly disappointed with you.
There are only 2 ways in which you can make it up to me, you horrible little friday-work worm. You can either stop it right now and leave and go to the pub, or you can help contribute to the continuing adventures of Mr. Oopalong, the cuddly character for grown-ups.
The story so far: having gotten lost on his way home, Mr. Oopalong was washed down into the bowels of the Earth, where he encountered a tribe of cannibalistic dwarves. He only just managed to escape the pot and scramble back up to the surface, but now finds himself trapped in the middle of a busy motorway! What will happen to him? How will he survive the vicious onslaught of the traffic?
You decide.
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This can't really be counted as one of the famous Funjunkie Friday Games. Instead, it's a hero machine where you can make the characters that you would like to be, if you were going to be yourself in a game.
I'm a busty amazonian warlord-ess with a pink cape and a whip. Read into that what you like.
I was a bit upset that I couldn't hand stitch a purple lightning bolt onto my pants, but you can't have everything.
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It's derogatory and awful to look at, but it's still strangely compelling. It's another site in the same vein as the FJ perennial favourite Pub Fight, where you have to choose between two pictures. This time it's 'Hotties'.
I declined the offer to put my own picture up for judgement, because the other blokes have got to be able to stand some kind of chance.
We could do our own version featuring FJ editors, but the things we find attractive probably differ widely from the norm (most wombat-like nose, best watery eyes as seen through the slit of a ninja costume, etc).
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It's probably a bit mean of me to spring such a brain taxing game on you so early in the day, but what the hell, I'm going to do it anyway.
Get yourself a strong cup of tea, and slap yourself round the face, you're going to need all the concerntration you can muster to play Fowl Words. It's not a swearing simulation, it's a cross between Boggle / Scrabble / a hen night.
Next up, something easier. I hope.
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Happy Birthday to smouldering sex siren Raquel Welch (real name: Jo Raquel Tejada) who reaches the grand age of 63 today!
Raquel, who will always be unforgettable from the 1966 Dino-classic One Million Years B.C.* and who rightly deserves her number 3 position in Playboy's 100 Sexiest Stars of the Century still looks fantastic well into her 60s and we here at FJ would just like to take the opportunity to invite her round for a cup of tea to discuss her range of Raquel Wigs at the FJ Towers at any time she likes. Apart from after 6pm on Thursday nights, as Reg and Taz play Mario Kart then.
* One of my fav films of all time just for the tyranosaurus impaling scene alone.
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Someone phone Roy Castle, hang on he's dead. Chris Akabusi! This guy isn't a record breaker, but he's certainly got dedication.
At 60-70 hours a pop on each of his etch-a-sketch 'artworks', you would have thought this kid would be shit bored of playing with the magic red box. But No! The twerp persists in doing his 'masterpieces' and presenting them to his heroes.
Jeez mate, go for a walk outside! Find out about girls! It can't be healthy spending hours hunched over your doodle pad in the murky depths of your bedroom. Someone send him a jazz mag or something, at least he'll be spending his time productively.
Etch-a-sketch man. He's not interested in girls.
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Look. I've never asked for anything from you lot. I don't have an Amazon wishlist, haven't asked for money to keep this site going and to cover the bandwidth bills, haven't sold advertising space, nothing.
But if you guys were to club together and buy me a present, just out of the blue and out of the kindess of your collective hearts like, then I'd like one of these please.
In black, with hot rod flames please. Many thanks.
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It's not even friday yet, and we're already bombarding you with games - it must be your lucky week!
You know the game Simon, where you have to follow the patterns? You know the game operation where you have to extract the bones? This is neither, it's the sick and famous game!
It's not that sick, and I've no idea why it's famous, but if it will keep you off our backs until lunchtime, then we're in for a chance of dishing you up some real goodies.
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Your weflexes are wery good, ninja-san. Your training has been wery worfwhile.
Can you now pass the final hurdle, and catch the flies with your chopsticks, karate kid style?
I flipping can't. I got one. Back to the dojo for me!
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I've got a little conceptual challenge for you, this fine Thursday morning.
Imagine a large container ship. A really big one. It's full to the brim with containers. Each container is full to the brim with cheap tat, the kind which is freely available on any market in the land.
This ship takes off into the air, and dumps the containers in a large pile in England's second city. People come along to this higeldy-pigedy pile, and decide that they should sell the items in the containers, pretending that they are shops.
You can stop imagining now, because that actually happened a couple of decades ago in Birmingham. They named the place 'The Bullring'. Eventually, people realised it was a bit of a shit hole, and they knocked it down.
Today sees the opening of the brand new Bullring.
Full Story >>
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Now this is the sort of thing we like. Open and flagrant, but possibly not fragrant, displays of irreverence.
Big Friend of FJ Tim Ireland is feeling bolstered by the recent success of his Get tony Blair and E-Mail address campaign, and is turning the tables on the Grand Fuhrer himself, George Bush.
The plan goes like this, George Bush might make a visit to the UK soon for a happy photo opportunity with ill-advised wellwishers.
Its your mission to make any photos that might make their way into the 'Happy Happy Joy Joy Everything's A-OK with the US and Britiain' scrapbook by baring your nekkid butt in the warmongerer's general direction.
We know that FJ readers all enjoy a good moonie at the best of times, so here's a shot at actually doing something useful with your behinds, rather than mooning the local vicar as usual.
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Well, largely unnoticed by the rest of the world, the 2003 World Air Guitar Championships took place last week, with US silent rocker C-Diddy taking the crown of the most almighty soundless rocker on the planet.
Which is all well and good - but where the hell was 2 times World Champeen, Zac Monro? Where was he when his country needed him?
Well, actually, he was on the judging panel in the qualifying stages, which sounds to me like he couldn't be arsed.
C'mon Zac! Get your arse in gear for next year and reclaim the title for the honour of your Queen, your country, and guitarless Brit rockers everywhere!
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Course, if you're not British then you'll no doubt not be surprised in not being British, unless you get 10 out of 10 in this Britishness Quiz right, in which case you'll be more British than a lot of the British, which is not very British.
Apparently.
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Well, that'll do nicely sir or modom.
Bournemouth based band of ruffians, NoSubstance reckon that FJ is: "the most essential site for people who like random bollocks!! yes!" Couldn't have put it better myself.
No really, I couldn't - I've stapled my mouth shut.
Two elephants and a cymbal fall off a cliff.... "BOOM BOOM TISCH!"
Take my mother in law..... please.
I bought my Mother in Law a chair for Christmas, but she wouldn't plug it in.
I don't say my Mother in Law's mean ... but she turns off the gas when she's turning the bacon over.
I saw six men kicking and punching the mother-in-law. My neighbour said 'Are you going to help?' I said 'No, Six should be enough.'"
stop now.
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Could somebody please explain to me just how an immobile large wooden childrens climbing frame in the shape of a dragon, located in the centre of the local shopping centre could be 'out of order'.
 Dragons: High maintenance |
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Anyone will tell you that we love Lego here at FJ. Heck, even the legendary FJ Towers are built of the stuff - you even have to press a lego man's head to ring the door bell.
Course the advantages of this are obvious, gone are the days when you used to have to employ sweaty-arsed builders when you want that new office extension - you just break up a space in the wall, and use the 6-hole blocks to create the new one.
The bummer, we've found, is that kids keep nicking whole suites of office space to use in their lego collections, and they don't even seal up the walls behind them. Little bastards, you wait till I get them, I'll wring their scrawny little....
Oh, sorry, miles away then, what was I on about? Lego. Yes Lego.
Well, if you like Lego (and if you don't you're a freak) - then playing the amazing 3D Lego Treasure Hunt will bring sheer joy to your ratty, flea bitten features. Yes.
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A couple of games to ruin your lunch break... yeah right! Like you're going to play them on your own time!
I know your type... all la-de-bloody-da, going out in your lunch hour and stopping off at the local 5 Michelin stars restaurant (with valet parking for your Rolls Royce), eating caviar and drinking champagne, then sauntering back to work 20 minutes before close of play and spending the rest of the day playing Mark and Lard's Hangman. Sounds just like him!
Here at FJ Towers we're more accustomed to spending 5 minutes eating a half cooked potato waffle, while on the phone to a client, with one hand on the mouse, firing little disks at a Target.
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An exciting new daily online soap has started, which may or may not be as good as Fridge Watch or Patio Watch. Today sees the advent of something far less inspired:
Car Watch. All the cool kids are doing it!
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You've got to love stuff like this bit of artificial 'intelligence' called the Gender Genie.
You type in anything you want, and then the chipmunks behind the scene guess at whether you're male or female. I tried twice, and it was correct both times:
"hello. my name is taz"
Female
"Alright Chief, big up from the FJ crew, luv Reg."
Male
Clever stuff, eh?
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You may be aware of our regular struggle with DIY bombmakers, as it's a constant source of chargrin here at FJ towers.
No doubt this post is going to bring out a whole load of new kiddie terrorists out of the woodwork, but what the hell. If you're going to live life on the edge, you may as be well advised about the facts in advance.
Included on the matchstick rocket makers site are not only instructions on how to make said matchstick rockets, but important safety tips, and a chance to meet the pioneers of matchstick rocketry. I think they all moved to area 51 from Germany after the war. Maybe.
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Hey you hipsters and shysters! Feeling glum about not having a rag that keeps you on your toes about whats what and what's not? Well then, sign up for the Founder Reader version of the London News Review, featuring such glittering spandex coated groove-cats as Ricardo da Herring-o (who I scared with my story of my first experience of porn), Paul Garner (of Lapdance Island Hoax Fame) and other people as well, who are equally funny and intelligent and can smoke an entire foot long spliff without even batting an eyelid. Yea.
Bugger. The Founder Issue is oversubscribed. And I wanted a plug in their regular e-mails like all the other webloggers got. Arsepants. Looks like its back to plugging our site by taking photos of women with our stickers on their breasts and getting millisecond mentions on RI:SE early morning breakfast telly..
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Sorry, I was ill for the last 2 days. Thanks for all the 'Get Well Soon' cards and the balloons and the stripagrams.
Oh wait, no, you bastards didn't send me any. Instead I had to weather it all by myself. *sniff*
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Ah, its morning again.
Another 5 minutes in the broken shower here at FJ towers, running around to catch the meagre drips of glacially cold water.
Another bone breaking fall down the stairs after forgetting about the missing step that was taken by Wild, who needed a piece of wood for his evil robot monkey project.
Another coffee whilst sitting down to read my thousands of emails, most of which entitled "Increase the length of your penis!" or "Even cheaper viagra!".
Another couple of hours of The Breakfast Show on Mello Hippo Radio.
Nearly ready to face the day...
Thanks TTR2.
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I've just been reading about augmented reality at How Stuff Works.
You know those bits in the Terminator films, where you see what Arnie is seeing? The bits where he goes into a bar and assesses bikers / hen parties for the right size outfits and goes "Your clothes, give them to me"? Well, aparently that kind of technology is just around the corner.
Soon you'll be walking down the street checking out the ladies, finding out their vital statistics. There will be an auto kebab shop route finder for the weekends. You'll know what type of crisps the corner shop has before you enter. There are so many possibilities.
Read the article first, then check out the FJ art monkey's impression of what it'll really be like...
Full Story >>
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Managed to get myself out of the Elephant trap at about 2 o'clock this morning. So after a brief rest and a couple of rants at a very bemused Reg, I decided to cheer myself up with a wander down to the local village funfair.
Didn't help though... the candyfloss tasted like rabbit shit.
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All the movers and shakers from the world of politics, the arts, media & publishing have voted for their man of the year, 2003.
After sifting through the tumultous amount of votes, the results are finally in. There are several conspicuous absences (where are the FJ editorial team?), but I think you'll agree that the top three men are an inspiration to us all.
Unless you're a woman
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Mummy's given you fifty pence to go to the fun fair. She wants to sort out the bill with the milkman, and half an hour with a bunch of gypos should toughen you up a bit.
So what's the first thing you do? You go and splurge your cash on a ping pong game. There's no way you'll ever get those balls into the fish bowls! The lady who said that there's a prize everytime forgot to mention that you only get a little fishy if you play ten times.
You sorry little wretch. You'd better do well in the ping pong ball firing game, or else there will be no candy floss for you, sonny Jim.
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It's nice to see that my cross dressing antics have travelled all the way to Malaysia, courtesy of the Digital Malaya Project.
Since the global cross dressing seems to be under control, let's see what else I can turn my evil hand too...
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This weekend I'm nipping down to Monte Carlo in my new Lambo to visit the sheik of Bournemouth on his new yacht.
I'm not really. I'll be getting drunk under a slide in the local park as per usual. You would have thought that considering I'm well within the top 5% of the richest people in the world that my lifestyle would be a bit more glamourous. Instead of drinking Guinness out of a can, I'd be drinking Champagne (laced with Guinness) out of the hands of nubile nymphets in the sun somewhere.
If you want to feel positively loaded, check your position in the global rich list. Then wonder why you still can't afford to eat anything more than beans on toast.
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It's September. The mornings are starting to be slightly crisper. The rush hour traffic is back to it's usual volume, now the kids are back at school.
On days like this, you should be outside cycling, or erecting a roof on a garage. You should be stopping girls falling to untimely deaths by the power of blowback.
Welcome to Tuesday.
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Uh-oh. Keep it cool, Reg.
Wild has jammed himself in the cellar by accident while doing that robot monkey army experiment, and Taz is hanging upside down out of reach in that elephant trap that I forgot to disable over the weekend.
All I need is an electric crowbar and a long ladder, and they're both free. I can't believe the DIY shop is shut again.
If I do a really stunning post, maybe I can wing it for a bit longer, and no one will notice. I reckon this will do nicely.
phew
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Everyone knows that fishing is a dull sport. The only reason blokes do it is to get a bit of piece and quiet on their own for a few hours. But what if you wanted to make fishing an exciting sport, one with verve and panache?
Well, you might fish out of your second story office window, with a bit of cash on the end of the line, trying to hook humans rather than slimey fish.
That could work. Or, it may turn out to be a bit a bit lame, like a slightly more high energy version of patio watch.
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Not to be outdone, the friendly rivalry continues with FJ roving reporter 'The Bint' seeking out more female flesh on which to plant her sticky... er... stickers.
See the latest installment of Girls with Funjunkie on their Boobs watch.
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DeathGob
