Dawson's Crepe

It's a friend of mine's birthday on Friday and I couldn't think of anything to get her. Suddenly I remembered that she was a fan of sweet foods and the mid 90s teen telly shows. Thus the Dawson's Crepe was born.

War on bad adverts

A while ago I decided that if I truly hated an advert on TV I wouldn't buy the product ever again (I suppose if they made a truly fantastic ad later, I might reconsider but so far no-one's come close to making that an issue).

I should clarify that it's not about an advert being annoying. I find GoCompare and WeBuyAnyCar as irritating as everyone else, but I'm hapy to give them the benefit of the doubt that the people behind them knew that. They were deliberately setting out to do it so the ad was memorable and become a talking point. CompareTheMeerkats treads this line very finely.

I only veto a product if it somehow offends me. Looking at the list the theme seems to be smugness.

1) The first advert that really got to me was for the launch of Coke Zero. It had a growing parade of Nuts reading type blokes asking why all the good things in life come without the downside - "Girlfriends without 'the five year plan'", "Mobile phones without the dodgy ringtones". I think my problem with this was the blokey-ness of the whole thing, with the underlying suggestion that drinking Diet Coke was less than manly. Only chicks and gays drink Diet Coke. Awful. Before it was even launched I decided I would never drink Coke Zero.

2) Not long after this I noticed an ad for a 'stool softener' called Dulcoease. This advert was a parody/homage/rip-off of Sex and the City. A woman walks into a cafe to meet the three friends complaining about having had a hard poo. Her clever witty (smug) mate gives her some Dulcoease she happens to have in her handbag (I'd suggest that if two or more of them are having the same problem they might want to look at their diet).

The final nail in the coffin for this one is the last line. Woman number three joins in the hard poo discussion, revealing, "I used to have a big pain in my life...", before being interrupted by her smuggest mate (the one with the stool softener always handy), "Before she ditched him!" Hilarity ensues. Firstly, it's just not funny, but more importantly it doesn't work. No-one would ever start a sentence with 'I used to have a big pain' that only works as a weak contrived feed for the punchline. I hate them.

3) Appropriately enough, the third ad was the direct competition for the product that started all this. Pepsi Max. Pepsi Max have had a number of adverts which I can't remember but early this year they started one that I can only describe as more than a little rape-ish. The premise is that a guy in a bar tries it on with a woman who knocks him back, luckily his mates fake a world ending asteroid so, believing we are facing extinction, she jumps him. Afterwards the very clever bloke goes back to his mates and they all do a happy little dance about it.

If someone says no, then you perpetrate a fraud to sleep with them, that is rape. Hopefully, when they were dancing she was giving a statement to the police.

4) ISA-ISA Baby - Halifax. Sweet Jesus. I don't need to explain. This is probably the only advert which I actively change channel during out of sheer embarassment for eveyone involved.

5) Currently the final product on the list is also the only one that I was really likely to use. I sometimes drink wine, and quite like the occasional glass of Jacob's Creek. It's cheap, pleasant enough and every shop in the country seems to have thousands of bottles. Never again though.

The latest ad feature an australian guy having some friends round for a dinner party. This man is amongst the smuggest people ever shown on television. One of the worst moments is, "It's loved by the world's most important wine critic." "Who?" "Me". I would actually leave the party at that point. I think my problem with this one is that Jacob's Creek seem to be trying to suggest that if I buy their wine I'll be buying a lifestyle (yes, I know that's half of advertising) and the lifestyle seems to be one of a massive tosser.

Whilst it's certainly not the worst offender on the list (clearly that's Pepsi Sexpest), this last advert did prompt me to step up my campaign. Not only am I never buying Jacob's Creek again, I decided to write to tell them. Yep, Pernod Ricard UK will by now have received notification down in Hounslow (really?) of my decision. I'm not entirely expecting a reply.

My personal ad

Last year I decided to put a personal ad in the paper. So I asked my female friends what should I try to get across, what were women looking for. I consistently got two answers: honesty and a sense of humour. Every woman I asked: honesty and a sense of humour.

Fair enough, but how do you get across 'honesty and a sense of humour' in 130 characters? Not the easiest thing but I thought I'd nailed it with mine (see picture).

Oh yes.

So how many replies did I get? Yep, that's right, none. Not one.

Not a single woman replied. Week after week that advert ran. Nothing.

'Honesty and a sense of humour' my arse. Women don't want that. It's true what they say - women want bastards.

I've decided what ad I'm putting in this year to really appeal to what women want.

Just three words:

'Cunt seeks similar'



Actually none of that is true.

I got quite a few replies (twenty something). I met seven of them who were inteligent attractive interesting women and it actually made me wonder how bad the rest of the men in London must be. But that doesn't lend itself to a decent punchline.

The Joy of Text Sex

Recently, I was having a text exchange with the girl I was seeing, discussing what we’d do at the weekend. Just boring stuff with the odd innuendo thrown in. But then things started to get a little, err, fruity, and a bit more specific. And she switched to the present tense. Suddenly we were apparently going at it. I was ready to fck u wit my hrd cok.

I’m not skilled in the whole SMS thing. Cursed with stubby fat textless thumbs. Digital obesity. But there, lying on the sofa, I had to give it a go.

In SMS land, we were in her room so desperate that we were up against her door grabbing at each other tearing our clothes off. In reality I’m trying to push down my pants with one hand.

Another problem I have is that I’m very right handed, I’ve got no coordination with my left at all. I struggle to smoke and drink at the same time. What we’re doing seems to need two right hands. Typing on a little phone keypad whilst wanking is not the easiest thing. Fuck patting your head whilst rubbing your belly, THIS is dexterity training.

I’m trying to swap hands whilst maintaining momentum. It’s just not working. But hang on, I only really need my thumb to text. So I try grabbing my cock in my fingers whilst holding my phone against it, along the vein with the base nestled in my gingery curls. Using my thumb to type but still using the full skills of my talented right hand fingers. Genius.



But I haven’t thought this through. My phone has a sliding action. And it’s got a hair trigger. This may not be a problem for everyone but my knob end is, err, fluted. SNAP. The phone snaps back closed catching the ‘rim’ in it. HOLY SHIT THAT HURTS. I’m in agony, my cock is swelling (not in a good way) with a massive and purple looking end (again, really not in a good way). But there’s no way I’m stopping now, this is a whole new arena in our relationship and I’m not going to blow it now.

There’s a bigger problem though. Yes, my bruised throbbing bell end is bad but there’s worse. When the phone snapped closed I was working on a particularly impressive message. I look at the screen and see ‘Saved to drafts’. Fuck.

I’m desperately trying to dig through four menus to find the bloody ‘drafts’, whilst struggling to left handed maintain an erection in my now reluctant cock. I’m half wondering whether I should just stop, after all she’d never know. Then thoughts start to creep into my head, never a good move even during hypothetical sex. I’d assumed she was in a similar position to me. Sorting herself out. But how would I know. She could be doing some light dusting (not euphemistically). Or worse, sitting round her mum’s for tea. It puts me off for a moment, but I quickly come to the conclusion: well, a wank’s a wank.

Anyway, I find the draft. But it’s nearly blank. I can’t remember exactly where we were. I definitely had something up her. Fingers? But was it just a couple or the full KitKat? Or maybe my cock. Sorry, my ‘huge hard throbbing cock’?

I go with fingers. All the while trying to keep up momentum cackhandedly while avoiding the phone-snap bite.

My phone buzzes. A new message. She must have got bored waiting.

Now there’s a question. Should I read her text first? Fuck it. This took to much time and pain to type. Send.

Read.

Bollocks.

My cock’s in her! She’s on top (though I have no idea when that happened). I shouldn’t have gone with the fingers. Right. I’ll go with this anyway. Pushing my hard cock into her, meeting her as she rides me. Send.

(separately, it occurred to me that all the words I could think of for what my knob was doing seemed a little aggressive – push, thrust, force, ram - never wiggle)

At the exact moment that one’s sending a new one arrives. She’s replied to my fingers. I’m back out with a hand up her. Apparently I’m caressing her while my other hand grasps at a breast as I suck a nipple. Fine. I’m squeezing away. Send.

Next reply: and yes, of course we’re fucking again.

We’re having two separate conversations. I suddenly realise I’m in a foursome with myself. And I’ve got really different approaches going on. One of me is all hard fast fucking while the other of me is still strokingly foreplaying. I’m going to have to cum twice here and I’m not sure I can physically do that.

There’s something else really worrying me. Any minute now, I could get a text from myself asking, “Have you ever been a little curious? After all, the inside of a man’s mouth is basically the same as a woman’s.”

Luckily, she’s pulled it together and only replies to the harder version. Which I’m thankful for. Not only because it means I won’t have to face turning down gay sex with myself (although, I would have let myself down gently), but also because I think the foreplay I’d painted probably required three arms.

So now we’re just going for it. All ramming and thrusting. And in the real world, on my sofa, I’ve really mastered my technique.

Which brings up yet another question. What is the etiquette for ejaculation? Should I try to hold off to match the text version? If I do cum, should I pretend I haven’t and carry on going (not something I can usually do convincingly)? Or should I just be honest and whatever message she sends reply with “Uh, uh, aah. Sorry. G’night.”?

But. Best thing ever. She beats me to it!

I’m a gentleman though:

I fake it – just to make her feel good.

And it’s all over.

The trouble is, I’m now left on my own,with cock in hand, wanking into a sock. Ultimately, despite the initial excitement the night just finished just like every other evening.

Short Fat Ginger Guide to Dancing - part 4

Getting on the dance floor

So you’ve got the right mindset and you think you’re ready to dance. BUT how do you go from leaning on the bar to gyrating your hips in an overtly sexual and slightly distasteful manner out on the floor? When you’re not moving, your spot on the dance floor can seem a very very long way away.

Luckily, there are many great ways of getting you out there ranging from the simple through to the dramatic and we’re going to go through a few for you, step by high step, so you can choose the one that’s right for you in each situation.

Before you go out it’s important to have chosen a spot on the dance floor where you want to get to, your ‘Dance Target Zone’(DTZ). In many cases, you’ll already have friends on the floor so will be aiming for them but if not then pick a spot where the most people can see your moves.

Beginners may want to start with the simplest of all the methods, known as the ‘Standing up, walking on to the dance floor and starting to dance’ move. This technique involves firstly standing up, then walking towards the designated DZT and, soon after arrival, starting to dance.

3) Standing up, walking on to the dance floor and starting to dance




Starting from a seated position [a chair can often be useful for this] (1) shift your weight forward on to your feet and legs and raise your body (2); move first one foot forward towards the DTZ (3); then the other (4) and repeat until you reach the appropriate place; then stop (5); before finally getting down with your bad self (6).

Often, when dancing with others (say in a Standard Dance Circle) at the point you actually start dancing, more advanced practitioners will include a double nod and smile at one or more person in the group. Generally, immediately before dancing when you first arrive at the group there will be a short pause where it is recommended you shrug and show a slightly bemused facial expression[1].

Dance summary – Standing up, walking on to the dance floor and starting to dance

Pros:

Simple to learn and master – most beginners will have practiced the key components of this move in their daily life without even realising it! Now you just need to put them together and get down.

Dancus Interuptus – en route to the dance floor if the song changes, you change your mind or you realise you don’t actually know those people when you get close, this move can easily be converted to the ‘walk past them to the other side of the dance floor because that’s what you were doing all the time’ technique.

Cons:

Seat shortage – a key component of this move is the ‘standing up’ and this can prove difficult, if not impossible in the absence. Unless you are a teenage girl who is crying, drunk on Bacardi Breezers, and has just broken up with her boyfriend, sitting on the floor by the dance floor is generally frowned upon. (For possible solutions see Appendix 1: Variations to moves – ‘Walking on to the dance floor and starting to dance’)

The walk-dance gap – as mentioned, there has to be a point where you transition from walking into dancing where you are, hopefully briefly, just some bloke standing doing nothing. Just find that beat quickly.

Lack of flair – no-one wants to watch some bloke walking.

Usual practitioners: Men

Likely songs: Fits with anything but seen with Phil Collins (another con)

ALAT Rating: 1/10 – it’s walking but beware of the tricky gap.

Overall: It may be dull but you know it’ll get you there, like mastubating into a sock.

[1] See any scene featuring Martin Freeman in The Office

How to kill a joke through repetition (but carry on going like picking a scab)

Quite possibly my favourite proper joke I’ve written is also one of the cheesiest christmas crackeriest but I love it. Still, that didn’t stop me spending a day or so re-working it over and over again gradually killing it. Anyway:

My mother married a scaffolder; now I’ve got a step-ladder.

And:

My mother married an aerobics instructor; now I’ve got a step-class.

My mother married Hermann Hesse; now I’ve got a step-penwolf.

My mother married a stop on the district line; now I’ve got a step-ney green.

My mother married Marsellus Wallace; now I’ve got a step-aside, Butch.

My mother married a horror writing poultry magnate; now I’ve got a step-hen king.


I feel sickened and ashamed.

My singing may be recorded for training purposes

Trying to sort out various things I’ve spent a lot of time on the phone to my bank over the last week or so. I’ve given out my mother’s maiden name out, two characters at a time, to a surprising large proportion of the population so I’m now starting to suspect that they’ve got some kind of bingo game trying to be the first person to get the whole thing. Obviously, I also spent quite a bit of time enjoying hold music. (on a completely separate note, I once had to call a debt collection agency who’s hold music was dauntingly Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana – yes, the theme tune off The Omen)

Yesterday I became a little frustrated (and therefore acted like a bit of a dick) so asked the bloke on the other end if he would mind if I put him on hold for a minute and proceeded to sing (I can’t get no) Satisfaction, including guitar bits, at him. Actually he was impressively professional and just took it in silence (or propably had pushed the mute button and was talking about the wanker on the phone to the person next to him).

But, I remembered the call may be recorded for training purposes and thought I’d better mention that it was under copyright to Mick and Keith. I suggested to him that if they kept it or certainly if anyone listened to it they (or I) might be liable for royalities. I know it’s not true but I kind of liked the idea of someone calling their legal department to check.

I’m thinking of requesting a copy of the call under the Data Protection Act just to see how well I did.

We need more horror films about biscuits (bad puns)

Watching Ginger Snaps last night I realised that there just aren't nearly enough horror films featuring biscuits in the title, and that I spend far too much time on my own. Anyway so here are some puns covering a variety of levels of weakness:

From Rusk til Dawn

Rich Teavil Dead (although I actually prefer Rich Teavil Dead 2)

Psychocolate chip

Paranormal Mcvitities

Cannibal Holocaustard Cream

The Creature from the Blacaroon


I was going to add Poltergiced Finger but realised I’d strayed into patisserie like a twat.

Short Fat Ginger Guide to Dancing - part 3

The At-Floor Drink


In many respects, as before, the actual drink itself doesn’t matter, after all the purpose is just to keep you topped up. However, the skill is in assessing your environment and making a choice with the appropriate container. For example, some dance floors have tables at the edge, or a handy ledge, with sufficient floor space nearby for your needs. In that case you may be happy to take a pint glass and only have the occasional gulp (which will also present an opportunity for a brief rest during particularly frenetic exertions. A handy alternative in the absence of tables is the ‘behind pillar tuck’, which will allow you to leave a pint on the floor but positioned so as to make the ‘beer kick’ unlikely.

Things get more complicated where no such opportunities arise, in which case you may want to consider resorting to a can (where available) or bottle of lager (yes, we know it’s only half a pint but we’re here to dance like a tosser first and foremost).


For experienced practitioners, a final option remains – the Gyrostatic Beer Hand (GBH). This
complex manoeuvre involves keeping your right hand (or left for eccentrics) in exactly the same place whilst your body dances around it. Generally this will begin with the GBH positioned at chest height, about six inches from the body, with the shoulders slightly hunched and the hips and legs pushed back (for stability and to minimize jeans dampening in the event of spillage).

Masters of the art can achieve a wide variety of moves but it is best suited to early to mid 90s indie music where it will often be teamed with a NBH (Non Beer Hand) wave or point at shoulder height and a head bob.


The Gyrostatic Beer Hand


Movement generally kept to a minimum but with foot shuffling, head bobbing and NBH pointing, practitioner generally miserable with high degree of concentration on pint glass, stooped position and widespread leg stance lowers centre of gravity of pint to add stability.

Dance summary – Gyroscopic Beer Hand


Pros:

• Beer immediate availability – unlike most dance techniques your pint glass never leaves your hand completely eliminating the ‘table reach delay’ inherent in most forms.
  

Cons:

• Spillage factor – the inherent danger is, of course, the chance of spillage and jeans dampness, masters will say this is just a matter of technique but for beginners it represents a real risk.
  
• Introspection – the hunched form and focus on the pint glass leads to a lack of interactivity with other dancers. However it should be noted that some argue that this is an advantage giving the user an opportunity to look within themselves and truly get into the music. Indeed research shows that historically this has been the form favoured by a great number of philosophers.
  

Usual practitioners: 32 year olds in indie clubs; all students in 1996.

Likely songs: Late 80s to mid 90s (pre-Britpop) Indie music, notably Inspiral Carpets


ALAT Rating: 3/10 – not much movement, not too embarassing, but you do look like a dick.

Overall: Tricky for beginners and you may be better off just sitting down and slowly sinking into a pit of alcohol fueled depression.

Demographic assessment of Ethiopia broken down by religion

As you can see the single largest group is followers of Eastern Orthodox Christianity. This groups continue to use the Julian calendar which means, for example, that christmas is celebrated in January.

Western Christianity makes up less than 20% of the population.

Around 40% are non-christian, the largest part being Muslim.

Importantly, this breakdown only includes religious adherents and does include any atheists or agnostics.

This statistics are important to confirm that, no, Geldoff and Ure, they definitely do not know it's christmas you silly twats.

Bad pun names for trainers for dogs (then pigs)

For reasons that aren't worth discussing on Monday I decide to try to come up with bad pun names for trainers for dogs:

Reebark
K-nine Swiss
Nike Airedales
Pedigreen Flash

Annoyingly, as soon as I announced this I was top trumped by a couple of mates who threw in:

Adidaschund (from Ben)

and the greatest of all:

Labradiadora (Rich, genius)

So I've had to move on to pigs, even if it is limited by my knowledge of only around four or five types of trainers):

K Swine
Piggidas
Baconverse All Stars
Nike Air-cured Parma Ham

Sweet Jehosevah, I need to find something to do.

My local pub starts newsletter

New statistics make me a Christian (bloody maths)

Sadly, even as a devout and faithful atheist, I have to accept that new statistics do indeed show that I have the same religious beliefs as Christians.

Over the years I have enjoyed many many discussions with Christians about how one of us is talking shit. But some pretty basic maths has proved that statistically speaking we’re the same.

It’s difficult to pin down how many deities there are in the world (bloody polytheists). Apparently those greedy Hindus alone have around 33 million. Christians only have One (or Three but I think they’re a bit like Captain Planet and don’t have proper full magic powers until They join together).

I’ve got None (see atheists can stick capital letters on words too).

But this makes the maths pretty clear, even just using a conservative 33,000,001 deities:

I reckon 33,000,001 gods are tosh, or 100%.

Christians can’t be doing with 33,000,000 of them
Or 99.999997%.

That’s a 0.000003% difference. That’s nothing. So statistically I’m the same as a Christian.

And they’re the same as me.

So the Pope’s an atheist. Fact.

QED

A Short Fat Ginger Guide to Dancing - part 2

Anyway, so in part one we covered not dancing, but what about dancing? As I have mentioned it is important to have some alcohol in your bloodstream and we would recommend three times the legal limit as a minimum. As the old maxim goes, “if you’re still safe to drive, you can’t do that jive”. However, it is important to understand that there are two stages to dance drinking, the pre-dance drink and the at-floor drink.

The Pre-Dance Drink

As the name suggests the pre-dance drink is intended to get your blood alcohol up to get you on the floor. Think of this like football players warming up before a match when they do that funny running sort of sideways where they swivel their hips every few steps and look a bit like Kevin Bacon in Footloose (see Chapter Two, Getting on the dance floor). Depending how quickly you want to get there almost any drink will do for the Pre-Dance.

For women, some suggestions might be:

• Two large glasses of wine
• Two double gin and tonics (or any large spirits with mixer will do)
• One Bacardi Breezer (if you drink Bacardi Breezers, one will be enough for pre-dance or you can skip this step completely)
  

For men, some ideas could include:

• Three pints of lager;[1]
  
  

Remember – although it is important to have Pre-Dance, take it easy, you should be aware of the risks of too much at this point which can lead to producing your biggest and best moves too earlier meaning you have nowhere to go. A simple test is that the right level will lead you to say things like “I want to dance” whereas if you say, “Let’s bust a move” or suggest you might ‘shake your thang’, you have had too much.


[1] we acknowledge that lager is not the only acceptable drink for men, the other being real ale. However, come on, if you drink real ale are you really going to be dancing? Imagine a CAMRA disco. Just picture that in your head. Beers, bellies, beards and boogie? No, thought not.
.

He-man figures with muffins for heads

I'm often asked which are the best He-man figures with muffins for heads. Well, it's not easy to pick a definite 'best' but here are a few good ones.

Book review - 'I've worked out who killed Jesus' by Peter White

Most people assume the Romans killed Jesus. Some have theorised that a small group of high level Jewish conspirators were responsible, the so called ‘Crowd Whispers’ theory. However, recent improvements in police techniques have led one investigator to identify an alternative suspect. Peter White has revisited what we know of His life and the circumstances of His death and come up with a startling new theory.

According to White for early Christians both the Romans and Jewish leaders would have made easy scapegoats but sees this as being akin to blaming the bogeyman, stating “It’s akin to blaming the bogeyman.” Modern research suggests that most murders are committed by a close friend or family member. With this in mind, White has carefully examined what we know of His immediate circle to consider

As he says the real suspects are:

Peter – arguably benefitted the most from Jesus’ death, becoming head of family business and relocating the head office to Rome (which would seem an unusual choice had they actually been responsible).

Judas – understood to have been a police informant with an unrequited homosexual crush on ‘Our Lord and Saviour’™ which culminated in an awkward attempted kiss in the garden of Gethsemeny.

Mary Magdalene – a close friend of Jesus and known to have underworld connections, particularly in prostitution.

Joseph Davidson – Jesus’ ‘father’ who had begun to have doubts about His paternity having discovered that in reality storks have relatively little to do with conception no matter how clean.

Mary Davidson – Jesus’ mother who was under enormous pressure as a result of His insistence in going out in un-ironed robes which had led many in Nazereth and beyond to question why she let him go out dressed like that.

The meek – potentially with the most to gain as under the terms of His will, they stood to inherit the earth. It should be noted that this this version of the will had not been witnessed and was considered invalid meaning the Catholic church went on to keep the vast majority of His holdings. Indeed it was the threat of inheritance tax which lead them to relocate off-shore to the Vatican tax haven eastablished by new CEO Peter and Matthew the tax consultant (current rate of income tax in Vatican State – 0%)

Having identified the suspects and potential motives Peter White found himself at something of a deadend unsure how to proceed with the investigation. However, he then uncovered a piece of evidence that would ultimately lead to solving the mystery. He says, “I became fascinated with the method of death, it just didn’t seem to fit with a financial motive or underworld hit. But then I suddenly realised how simple it all was – the murder weapon was a bit of wood and some nails and it hit me, the carpenter! Joseph Davidson would have been to only person with ready access to these items.” As Mr White notes, the logic is irrefutable.

As with any new theory, not everyone immediately agrees. Critics have noted that White has no forensic training or expertise. However, he defends his position by stating that he has watched almost every episode of Midsomer Murders. Some detractors have brought even this into question on the basis that White repeatedly refers to the central character as ‘Bergerac’.

Whilst Peter White may not have the background of a seasoned criminal investigator his theory has been typed out neatly and published and therefore can be considered fact.

A Short Fat Ginger Guide to Dancing - Part 1

Introduction

Dancing can mean many things to many people around the world from that performed in tribal rituals to ballet and western interpretative dance, but in Britain two definitions are most generally applied:

Dancing ,n, - rhythmic movement usu. accompanying music.

Dancing, n, - gyrating like a tosser whilst drunk at a wedding.

We will be focussing on this latter form. The important thing is that it is just a guide, there are no rules to dancing like a tosser. Anything with fixed ‘steps’ that you can get ‘wrong’ is not dancing, it’s a sport.

Over the coming weeks this guide will take you step by step through everything you need to know to be able to fully dance like a twat in any given situation, from choosing your song to choosing your drink, from getting on to the dance floor to truly getting down on the dance floor, moves, grooves and choice of shoes.


Chapter One: Getting started

For beginners, it is important never to attempt to dance whilst entirely sober. Failing to have at least some alcohol is likely to result in ‘Aunts at Wedding’ (illustration.1):

1) Aunts at Wedding:


Starting with feet apart and hands slightly raised (1), slide one foot to the other and bring across the same hand (2), slide the first foot back bringing the hand back across (3), now slide the other foot across to meet the first, again bringing that hand across (4), finally slide the second foot back to the starting position and also swing the hand back. More advanced practitioners may include a clap or double finger click at steps 2 and 4.

Many purists would not consider ‘aunts’ to be a dance in the strictest interpretation of the word, owing to it allowing at least some potential to retain dignity and unlikely to lead anyone to describe it in excruciating detail the following morning. However, for this very reason it has remained popular and does offer some key advantages for the beginner over true dances.

Dance summary – Aunts at Wedding

Pros:

• Small volume – the feet and hands remain within your own ‘personal space’ making it achievable even on busy dance floors and limiting capacity to accidentally ‘smack someone round the face’.
• Social invisibility – a key factor in the selection of this dance is that it attacts no attention whatsoever whilst allowing the practitioner to remain on the dance floor, thereby avoiding any form of ‘dance floor beckon’ which is a risk if seated.
• Low injury potential – as the feet never actually leave the floor slippage risk is minimal and due to the small volume and social invisibility (see above) it is less likely that drunk tossers will kick off for no apparent reason (nb. for ginger practitioners it is important to note that this risk is reduced NOT eliminated).
  

Cons:

• Less enjoyment – as with many areas of life there is an inverse correlation between risk and reward, and this just isn’t as much fun.
• Little grinding potential – we all know dancing is really just a mating ritual and here you’re the sparrow with the smallest twig.
• Presumably you’re sober – that’s it.
  

Usual practitioners: Middle aged and above women at weddings; young girls at a disco; men at christmas parties who feel a bit uncomfortable dancing as part of a circle of women.
Likely songs: Something by Take That.
Acting Like A Tosser (ALAT) Rating: 2/10 – one of the safest bets short of staying off the floor
Overall: You’re not dancing, you’re just standing rhymically.

Investigations reveal very hungry caterpillar responsible for butterfly obesity

Butterfly obesity has become an increasing cause for concern amongst horticulturalists and recent government research has put forward a possible explanation for the issue.

The blame is though to lie at the feet of a butterflying hero, the very hungry caterpillar.


Recent research suggests that caterpillars need no more than fifteen calories per day. The much vaunted VHC diet includes one apple, two pears, three plums; four strawberries; five oranges, followed by chocolate cake, ice cream, a pickle, swiss cheese, salami, a lollipop, cherry pie, a single sausage, a cupcake and a slice of watermelon, over six days.

That’s an average of 671 calories per day, or around 4474% of the recommended allowance.

He’s clearly a little too hungry and our butterflies are paying the price.

New research shows Bible was intended for sheep

Recently I heard about something called morphic resonance and sheep rolling over cattle grids on opposite sides Australia at the same time proving there was some kind of magic field. Clearly tosh. There were a few people chipping in with ideas about how this could happen, when the blindingly obvious struck me. Clearly some higher power was at work. A sheep god?

Initially this might sound ridiculous (it is) but then I looked back at what I’d learned about Christianity and realised with absolute certainty that sheep are God’s chosen people, err, sheep. The Bible says so. Fact.

Just look at the evidence. God sent his only son to deliver the message. Agnus Dei. The Lamb of God. Not the Baby Boy of God. The Lamb.

Who did He say would inherit the earth – the meek. And who’s meeker than sheep? The Lord really is their shepherd. We know this. Even bishops and popes and stuff carry crooks. For herding people? Don’t be silly.

And what about evil? The devil’s got a tail, horns, cloven hooves and a little beard. He’s a goat. Hardly a representation of evil in man, but for sheep... it’s suddenly so clear

In fact, when Jesus was asked to tell people plainly what he was doing he did just that (John 10:24-28):

‘The Jews gathered around him, saying, "How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Christ, tell us plainly."

Jesus answered, "I did tell you, but you do not believe. The miracles I do in my Father's name speak for me, but you do not believe because you are not my sheep. My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one can snatch them out of my hand.”’

See, Jesus said he was taking the sheep to heaven. And you ain’t sheep.

So why has the human race ignored the clear facts to think they’re getting into heaven? It looks like it was just one simple typo early on: The chosen weren’t the sons of Abraham but a bah ram. QED

My imaginary friend’s birthday

23rd March is my imaginary friend’s birthday. We don’t really get on that well, what with him not existing and all.

Me and a mate invented him in a pub several years ago for no real reason and then he ended up joining Facebook. He claims to be an artist though doesn’t seem to have any evidence (again down to the not existing) and never posts anything, never updates his status, never leaves witty comments on photos etc. But, without requesting any, he has 1,228 friends. I’ve got about 50. Though I’m not an artist. Or imaginary.

Today, 41 people have sent him a message. Including one in Spanish (I don’t know if he speaks it) and, “Happy birthday baby, have a great day, xxx”. Baby. xxx. They haven’t met. She doesn’t know him. They’ve never exchanged the smallest of greetings. He doesn’t exist.

My immediate thoughts here are that they’re just massive twats. But maybe I’m wrong, these are people from all over the world who have reached out the hand of friendship to someone they’ve never met. And despite the fact he does nothing to reciprocate they still take the time to wish him a happy birthday. Actually, it feels like maybe he’s the twat.

And not existing seems a pretty flimsy excuse for that kind of behaviour.

EXCLUSIVE: ‘BBQ SUMMER’ PREDICTION GIVES ALL NEWS OUTLETS EXCUSE TO USE PICTURES OF WOMEN WEARING BIKINIS

I know what summer looks like. I don’t need the visual assistance. And anyway, it’s not much of a news story anyway – EXCLUSIVE: SUMMER WILL BE HOT.

I am quite a fan of scantily clad women and think there should be more of them but quite fancy a spot of honesty about it. Maybe there could just be a segment at the end of the news where a hot lass in her pants flashes up, or the photo on the front page of The Telegraph could just use the caption ‘look at those’ (yes, at least three times a week as it is they have a picture of a young woman with as tenuous as necessary a connection to a story).

Err, in fact, I think what I’m saying is: ‘Blimey, The Sun is the pinnacle of British journalism.’

Balls.

Forget I mentioned it.

Here’s a picture of me nude to take your mind off it.

Cooking with Magicians

I'm often asked for the best method of cooking David Blaine so I've pulled together three of my favourites ranging from the simple to something a little more adventurous.