Five compensatory advantages of Movember

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November has gradually become synonymous with hundreds of thousands of patchy moustaches sprouting across the UK at a bristling pace. If you’re anything like me you’ll find your booze budget seriously endangered this Movember as you struggle to shell out to your various furry-lipped friends, but it’s worth it for a million moustache progress selfies a day, free reign to pass comment on all shapes and sizes, oh, and the potentially life-saving research it enables.
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Rain is glorious because:


1. When it rains, everyone else fucks off inside leaving you free to roam the streets like a lost tramp. Don’t bother begging for money (everyone is too wet to care) but do take advantage of empty bins where you can seek shelter and negotiate with rats and insects for food. You might be lucky enough to meet another tramp and then you can have tramp sex – a once in a life-time experience not to be missed.

2 Wellies look wicked with sundresses. You look like a naughty child about to jump in a puddle whilst flashing your knickers. You can do these things and nice men will pat you on the head fondly before bundling you into a van and driving off. This will give you new material for your dwindling blog.

3. You can pop your wellies on, grow your face fur, grab a cardboard suitcase and legitimately pretend you are Paddington Bear and wait around the train station looking lost until a tired-eyed middle-aged man in a suit comes and takes you away to play ‘Hide the toast in the marmalade.’

4. Rain significantly increases the likelihood of all those smug hotpant-wearing drug-addled summer festival goers with their dickhead hats drowning in a sea of mud and used condoms. Har-de-har.

5. There is a gap in the market for a sexy waterproof superhero. Everybody wants to fuck Captain Anorak and Madame Wet Wellies.

6. There have not yet been any studies conducted to prove that rain causes cancer. This makes it one of the only non-cancerous things left in the world.

7. Rain keeps the rivers and oceans and stuff full up, necessitating the need to learn to swim just in case you fall in. Swimming lessons and swimming in general gives you an excellent opportunity to ogle the opposite sex in their swimwear. Prr.

8. People walking in the rain never look at each other as they are too busy looking at the ground to stop the rain getting on their faces. You could confidently flash, make suggestive tongue-wiggles or nazi salute a rainy day walker and they wouldn’t acknowledge you.

9. If the UK wasn’t so rainy, everyone would want to bloody live here. We’d be overwhelmed with tourists and we’d never get rid of those irritating friends and colleagues who smugly set off to ‘build a new life in warmer climes’ (can’t hack it in this country).

10. What’s the first thing a person does when they get in out of the rain? Removes all of their wet clothes. I’m surprised British people don’t have more sex with these provocative weather conditions.

Seven ways not to die at a festival

The good news is that it is festival season once again. The bad news is that 9 out of 10 people will die at a festival this year – the latest 100% accurate statistic as relayed by a slippered bearded someone watching a festival being sucked into a whirlpool on telly. By day three the average festival campsite has become Cambodia with smoking human carcasses, chlamydia-saturated knickers and savages selling their friends and livestock for cans of warm Carling. In a bid to try to save a few lives this year, I’ve put together a few things for you to avoid doing. I myself have died several times at various festivals so I definitely know what I am talking about. Read more

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What happens in heaven


After the grief we put up with down here with all the millions of bastards running around everywhere like they bloody own the place (and half of them do), it is only fair that we get our own bespoke heaven to retire to. Here’s mine:

1. Bastardless. God won’t let bastards into heaven, they break your stuff, shag on the sofas and generally lower the tone.

2. Make-up-less. No more faffing around in the morning with blusher and mascara and what-not. In heaven we get to choose what face we would like from the very beginning. I want Rita Hayworth’s. No wait, I want the Queen’s – She won’t need it anyway as just this Monday she made a point of telling me that she wants Grace Jones’ face – and her hula hoop. Continue reading