Toffs.

Again, for about the eighty fifth millionth time this year, something has gone wrong with my technology. Unsurprisingly, this is my Xbox. Ever since Microsoft installed the new layout it has decided to not work on HD because it is an obvious bellend. And so furthermore, it is deemed rubbish.
Meh, this doesn't really matter though as it was Christmas, and so I was too busy eating chocolates and laughing at the Queens speech to care about it all that much.
Bah, that woman. Now, I don't know about you, but I don't like the royal family. The Queen for example, for sitting on her backside all day, excrementing upper class poos into her upper class lavatory (I just got that mental image as well, sorry) and once in a while going out to shopping centres to cut the ribbon... she gets millions of pounds from our pockets, a big, big house and everyone loves her. She doesn't even come from here either, her family's German, which means she should go around sounding like a rottweiler, but she still manages to sound like the biggest ponce in the history of the world.
So, with her little white gloves and curly hair, she thinks that every Christmas, she has the right to sit there, and give us her views on the world, so that every person above the age of about 70, anyone called Jeremy or Tarquin, or anyone who is American can sit there with their mince pies and try to give a crap about what she thinks.
I remember a few months back, I went to Buckingham palace, conveniently placed no-where near Buckinghamshire, and for a short moment I thought I'd walked in on the Marge Simpson tribute society, who for some reason, have to stand outside her palace and are not allowed to move at all. This means they have to stand there looking like twats whilst Japanese people take photos with them, which apparently is a symbol of how great our country is. I mean, in all my knowledge of past wars, I have never heard of the winning side being dressed as pipe cleaners, and camouflaging into the surroundings by wearing bright red... but according to the Queen this is "formal attire".
I wouldn't care all that much if the Queen had ever done anything to deserve that crown, apart from sit there listening to her mothers Ali G impressions, but the truth is she hadn't. Even her whole family is as dumb as crud. Basically, as you can imagine, the whole royal family has been to Eton, but they still all come out with B's in their A levels. Remember, this is Eton... your not even allowed to get B's there, even if a dog was educated there it'd be frowned upon if it didn't completely own every other dog in the world.
Then, as you can imagine again, the whole family go on to Oxford or Cambridge and probably studied something stupidly formal, along with Jeremy and Tarquin, who also go there, whilst their inner city dads sit there and make stupid amounts of money back in London.
Now, a few blogs ago I talked about the Chav population and how their crappy music shouldn't exist and how they're all violent twats. However, it's okay because they'll all be working in McDonald's or cleaning my toilet one day. Upper class people on the other hand, such as the Queen, her family and Jeremy and Tarquin all have a certain smugness to them. They're all huge bastards, all too over smug, and they all seem to like playing Polo.
However, the worst thing of all... apart from obviously having the amazing ability to eat a single meal over the space of about two hours with about 500 different bits of cutlery is that I'm going to be working for them when I'm older.
They're completely dumb, they're completely stuck up, they have stupidly dumb names. But unlike the Chavs, they're rich. Which means that when they walk into their job interview, the employer looks at their CV and as soon as he reads, "Lord King Earl Sir Bartholomew Tippet XIV The Rich" he then emits a noise sounding something like "KERCHING" and cleans the pen of lower class bacterium so that they can sign the contract.
It's stupid. I hope they all die of Gout.
Thankyou...

Exams and Air Travel.

It's the Christmas holidays now. And this is good considering that for the majority of the past three weeks I've been stuck in a sports hall doing exams with about 240 other people that seemingly have contracted the plague. Either this, or the chavs have taken a break from painting themselves orange and have decided that it is fun to sit there in the middle of a Maths test and randomly cough, and then scrape their chairs as though no-one will care in any way whatsoever. Then, when I drop my pen, they all stare at me with the kind of face you adopt when being stabbed in the back of the head with a screwdriver, as though what I've just done is the most surprising thing to ever happen in the history of the world.

The exams are so friggin' long as well, when I went into my Geography exam it was sunny, it was fairly warm and there were many people walking around outside. When I came out however, the world had changed; it was dark, there were many weird birds flying above us, it was raining and about minus 500°C outside and there was no-one to be seen for about two miles around us.

You find everything funny as well. Michael dropped his water bottle onto the floor in Biology, and when it bounced and hit Dan in the foot, it was almost too much for me to handle. I'm serious, after just an hour staring at the back of someones head that becomes absolutely hilarious.

However, I'd rather spend five hours a day sitting on my backside in a room filled with other peoples coughs and chair scraping, than in an over sized coke can filled with screaming babies and other peoples poo particles, eating dodgy ham sandwiches whilst trying to work out how to use the fold down table and still managing to breathe at the same time.

Boeing 7 something 7's are big and expensive, which means the companies that buy them must be big and expensive also. This means that they can easily afford a bloody oven, some bread, ham and butter, and a cook, that can make me a sandwich that doesn't taste like I've just tried to gnaw into my wallpaper, and perhaps something that I won't be farting out for the next 3 hours.

This ham sandwich however, will be long forgotten when you go to the toilet, where you will suddenly notice that you have no ear drums because of the immense noise made by the flush. It will take you a while to notice this however, as you are in fact happily too busy trying to gather your remaining internal organs out of the pan of which they have been sucked into.

Long haul flights are the worst. No-where on you go the plane, apart from the cockpit, do you look out and not see the wing. And no-where you go on the plane, do you not sit next to one of three;

1) A baby.

2) A fat woman called Janice, that will spend the next nine hours invading your space.

3) A chatty man who you don't like, possibly who is French.

The baby is the best option of the three, it will spend about 3 hours crying, then it will throw up, and then it will fall to sleep. You will not hear from it again until you are accompanied by an eerie musk, as a baby is the only thing that can squeeze a shit out and at all times stay fast asleep.

Janice will spend the rest of the journey making annoying noises and spilling things on you, and then will try to fall to sleep, but never quite succeeding... meaning that she will roll around, and you will spend the next few hours with a lump of belly flab or side boob in your face.

The chatty guy is the worst of the three. You know when you have one next to you because the first thing you'll hear is;

"Where do you come from?"

If he's from the UK, if you say you're from Wales or Yorkshire he wont talk to you again because he knows all he'll get is a conversation about "Uncle Dorris" or mountainous regions for the rest of the journey.

If he sounds like he's from America, for goodness sake do not say that you are from the UK. He'll presume that you are from London, and you'll be drawn into a massive conversation about the royal family and then about how small our island is and how big his is. To be honest, American people are probably the worst sit next to, as they won't shut the fudge up, they'll be grotesquely overweight, and they'll have a beach ball, later to be realised that it is infact a human baby.

If they sound French, point out the window and say something like;

"Auche leiben, looky! Das ist meine Meshersmetz!"

You will then notice a dark patch in their crotch, their face will turn a wierd kind of grey colour, and they'll curl into the fetal position whimpering to themselves. They will not speak to you for the rest of the journey.

Bah. I hate flying.

Thanks.

Christmas.

Like it or not, it is now officially Christmas because this is the point where you now cannot turn on the music channels without seeing Mariah Kerry rolling down a snowy hill or a badly drawn snowman flying around the middle of nowhere. Christmas does not start in the middle of October because some chav decided to put about 8000 million lights on the front of their house in the hope we can all get into the "Christmas Spirit".
Anyway, more to the point, I've decided that Christmas is rubbish. Firstly, it is the only time of year that you listen to complete rubbish and actually enjoy it, again because of the "Christmas Spirit". Jingle bells is the worst, because it just is.
I've noticed actually, if you listen to ANY Christmas song ever (Apart from the Pogues because they're actually decent) they have annoying sleigh bells in them. Go listen and you'll see what I mean.
Another thing is Santa. He wears red because Coca Cola is red, and he's real until you're about the age of eight. I will not lie, I believed in him... until there were two Santa's grotto's next to each other in the same shopping centre. I now look back and realise that they are all perverts.
Because I now know that Santa does not exist, and that it is in fact my parents that have the presents in the loft, everything should be okay. Not so. I have a younger brother who is seven, which means he still believes in Santa, which means I have to act that there is one wherever he is. This stops there being logic in any of my conversations whatsoever when he is in the same room. You end up going;
"...and yeah, I'll have the video camera..." (He walks in) "...do you think Santa can afford that?"
Ugh, family get togethers annoy the hell out of me as well.
I probably have a great auntie called Rosemary or Anne or Cecilia or something, if I do, I'll probably see them in the next month or so. They will bound in, and then give me a smile. I shall smile back politely, thinking, "Who the actual fuck are you?!". Then the fateful words "look how much you've grown!" will come.
I know how much I've grown because my eyes are conveniently placed on my face, at the top of my body. They also act like the fact that I've grown since I was about four is a huge, huge surprise.
Then, they will go on to ask me how school is, I shall reply "okay", and then they will ask me about my GCSE's, which again I'll reply "they are good" to. This will directly be followed by the question;
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
For five years now I've been wanting to reply that I am gay and that my boyfriend Xanthier and I are very happy together. But my parents would kill me, and half of these great aunties of mine are probably Catholics who would also try to burn me. The rest of the day is spent in awkward conversation about my school friends and what I'm getting for Christmas, and I'm not allowed on the computer because that is considered "un-couth".
Obviously, all is not bad, there is nice food, and nice presents, both of which I like very much indeed. It is also the only time of the year that you get to play with explosives at the dinner table, and with old people as well. I'm talking about crackers.
Although the explosion (especially when you actually take the string thingy out of it) and the subsequent smell is all very nice, you end up with a paper hat that's about four times too big for your head, a joke which is funny because it's so rubbish, and something stupid and plastic, that you will never have a use for in life. Such as a single chess piece, a comb, and a four piece puzzle. Your biceps also get a good working as crackers are the single fucking hardest things to pull in the world.
I also cannot be alone in saying that I've eaten all my advent calender by the second of December. This doesn't matter anymore though, as by the 3rd December this year, I had vomited about five times because the chocolate had melted into the plastic and given me some sort of food poisoning. I'll probably get sued if I put what one it is up here, so I will not. I also do the origami on the back if you're interested.
I look foward to the 27th December, I can use my presents, no relatives want to see me for at least another three months, new years is coming, and the common folk don't know when to take their over the top decorations down.
Thankyou.

Something about our human life

I’ve spent the last hour sitting here and all I’ve realised is that I’m one year old. Think about it. I’m 15 years old, and I spend about a third of my life sleeping, which means I'm only around 10 years old, and for the majority of people reading this, so are you. From what I know about sleeping, it's the same theory as a computer, you can only keep it on for a certain amount of time before it overheats, and the longest anyone has ever naturally stayed awake is eleven days and nights. The longest I’ve ever stayed awake is one night and a bit, and I walked into every wall in Rome because of that… and sub-consequently almost died.
So, that’s five years of my life that I don’t even remember. On top of this I spend about 6 hours a day at school, so of the 16 hours that I’m awake, only 10 of them I have free time, and if you include school holidays into the equation this equals only around 45% of my life doing what I want, which, in turn means I’ve only spent six and a half years of my life actually having a life. Three of these however, I do not remember as I was a baby, and spent most of my life gurgling and urinating on various objects. This makes three and a half years.
However, there’s more.
For me, it takes an hour a day to walk to school, and if there is no school I probably spend that hour sleeping so that’s another 4% off my life, meaning I’m about 2.9 years old. Add another hour and a half for eating and I’m about 2 years of age. However, this is nothing.
Apparently 50% of our lives are spent waiting and going to do things. Take this away from the ever decreasing number and I’m only one year old.
This means, the average man from the U.K will only live for about 11 years, and that’s not including his 9 – 5 working hours.
This is opposed to the giraffe, which only spends about an hour and a half a day sleeping, and even gives birth standing up and is born with horns so it doesn’t have to spend it’s time growing them. And if I could work this out properly, I think when it reaches the age of 15; it’s had more free time than I have by a long, long way.
Pig's waste alot of time also, but it is okay because their orgasms last for about half an hour, which seems as though it's time well spent if I'm honest.
Now, I don’t have a point in writing this, apart from the fact that I found it interesting when some comedian on the T.V read it out. And it’s probably all wrong, and it probably didn't interest you in any way. But meh.
By the way, this means that Apple had around 11 years of completly free time to make an iPod that works for more than a minute without getting a flat battery or just deciding to turn off, and Microsoft had 11 years of completly free time to make sure that their computers didn't overheat, and that their Xbox's could last a day without dying and making a noise like the Hiroshima bomb because of its crappy fan . He also has about 70 billion in the bank, so there is no excuses, Mr. Gates.
Colgate, for example, is alot poorer than Microsoft or Apple and it still manages to clean my teeth without coming up with an error message, freezing randomly and then exploding in a fire ball. In Spanish, the word "colgate" translates into "go hang yourself" if you're interested, and this seems alot more threating than the words; apple, micro, and soft. So again, no excuses.
I do generally hate anything to do with mouths though. I had a cut from a crisp inbetween my teeth, it was not pleasant. Dentists also bullshit alot, saying things like; B12, AS34, E34, E35 and then gagging you on something sharp. They're also worse than doctors when it comes to getting you in there when you want to be, and the waiting room is also tiny. And they say they're all going private. Pah!
I wouldn't pay for that.
Thanks.