Two boobs good, four boobs better

So it’s the time of year when you’re back to college to secure a future in a career that either

• You think you’ll enjoy
• You think you’ll get a job in
• You’ll make a lot of money at
• Get a lot of pussy by association
• All of the above

Well I’ve got sour news for you Jack, it ain’t that sweet.

In my humble opinion you don’t even need to go to college.  I have two separate qualifications under my belt, both completely unrelated.  As a sound engineer and a chef with pieces of paper to prove that I can do what I say I can do, the only work I can get is supervising the grill at Maccy D’s and taking turns with the drive thru manager to change the stations on the radio.

Ah well.

We were going to do a piece about this advising you of which courses to choose during the summer, but we figured we’d wait until you’d made your choices and then laugh at you for it.

Plus, they don’t do a course in nipple tweaking for lingerie models and redhead toe sucking.  Just doesn’t happen.

So instead we’re going to look at different course each week, and if you’re currently “studying” for one of them, here’s what you’ll have to look forward to.*

This week…

History

Who studies it

• People who like old shit, talking about old shit, reading about old shit, like having no friends and a desire to hang onto their virginities.
• People with every episode of Time Team on VHS.  (They’re students without Sky or a DVD player)
• People who have been in the same student accommodation for so long that they see it as their kingdom to rule over and punish the newbie students by making them their bitches.

What you’ll learn

• Stuff happened a long time ago to people you never knew
  

  Going on a dig? You won't see her there.

• If you go on an archaeological dig you’ll find bits of terracotta pot and fossilised dog shit
• People used to speak Latin, now they don’t
• Even people in medieval times had sex, which is interesting because you haven’t.  And never will.  Unless it’s with an equally sad on the inside philosophy student
• You’re getting no pussy

How long it’ll last

• Forever.  Everything that happens becomes history.  Like the time I once saw a girl in a college that will remain nameless, but rhymes with Maynooth, give blow jobs in exchange for pints of Fosters.  She went down in history, but chances are you won’t be studying her.  Doctors at the local clap clinic did though.  They named an STI after her.  I don’t know what little Pamydia is doing these days, but I hear she’s the media.

Jobs you think you’ll get after it

• An archaeologist digging up flower pots and dog shit.  You’ll be particularly hated by builders who will have to call you in if they find a rat skull.  They’ll have to pay you and they can’t lay a brick until you say so.  This makes you a cunt.
• A history professor. You’ll probably hang around Trinity so long that the lecturer will let you piggy back on his lectures and eventually just let you at it while he gets gobbled in the jacks.  Then when he gets sacked for fingering the foreign student and setting up a website to show the videos of it, you can just take the job.  This means that not only have you spent the last 6 years studying what some dead cunts have done, but now you teach it to other cunts.  This makes you a cunt.
• A history teacher.  Kind of like the professor in college, but you’re in a secondary school that has the last history teacher buried under the PE hall’s wooden floor.  You will have to also teach Geography and Music to make yourself a total cunt.
• Indiana Jones. Don’t be such a silly cunt.

Jobs you’ll actually get

• You could get the lecturers job, but you’ll still be living in the same student digs you were 6 years ago.  And you won’t move out because all the newbie students that come to stay are your bitches and the room reeks of your feet and self loathing so much that the landlord can’t give it away to anyone else.  You’ll stay at that job until you’re found dead having tried to stick your willy into a mummy on loan from a museum and it had a curse on it and the curse made you die.
• That’s about it. Anyone who hires a person who’s qualified in history is a bigger cunt than someone studying history.

Sorry if we’ve alienated anyone here, but we reckon we may have saved some people.  If you didn’t think you were a cunt before, you do now.

*If you don’t drop out or get kicked off for screwing the lecturers daughter and niece simultaneously in the SU jacks.

There’s a guy who seems to get his jollies by pissing off and confusing the fuck out of people by email.

He is our new hero.

Read on, it’s a bit on the long side, but worth it.

Thanks to watching way too much internet TV I’ve started to notice a few similarities…

Who said Maths wasn't sexy? Everyone? Oh...ok, sorry.

Hollywood…I’m on to you!

We could tell you how to light fires and make shelter out of your own shite and some coconuts, but

• We don’t know how to
• It’d just be a copy and paste from Ray Mears blog
• If you’ve seen Castaway you’ll already know that all you need is some ice skates, a dead pilot and a volleyball to get you back on your feet.

Instead, we reckon that you’d be bored right out of your man tits in between trying to catch fish and shit like a bear.  So we’ve put together a list of things that will keep you busy through out your time on that island.

Yeah it's grand but it's a little draughty

Build some sandcastles

Unless you’ve been shipwrecked in Blackpool chances are you’re surrounded by sand.  What else are you going to do?  By the time you come to terms with the fact that you’ll probably die there, you’ll have learned how to construct everything out of sand.  In no time at all you’ll have evolved from a make shift hut, to a full on duplex.

Then you’ll have somewhere to plug in your kettle and boil your own piss so that you finally have something to drink.

Write a list of stuff that you wish you had

Wish you had a Swiss Army Knife?  Write that down.  Wish you had a box of matches instead of having to rub fucking sticks together?  Jot that down too.  Add in how you’d like some bog roll, a cup of tea, a packet of Tayto and your Xbox, but write it down in the sand.  This will serve no other reason than to make your life more miserable.  Then when the tide comes along and washes your sad little wish list away, start again.  Only this time add a pen and paper to your list.

Then have a bit of a cry as you wipe your ass with your hand in the sea again.

Masturbate until the cows come home

When was the last time you had a marathon session a la self on the beach?  If you’ve answered “Last weekend behind the Mr Whippy van” then you can die a happy and fulfilled man.  For the rest of us, we stroll around nekkid because there’s fuck all people to see us and when the mood of impending and everlasting loneliness takes us, we just take ourselves.

With the wind on your nuts and the surf between your toes, sure you might as well have a go.  Let’s face it those cows are never coming home.

Then when you’ve finished, add an internet connection to your sand wish list.

And some hand cream.

Train a monkey butler

This depends on there being a single monkey on the island.  If there is, it should pose a few questions.

• Where did this single monkey come from?
• Why is there just one monkey here?
• How can I train this bastid to be my butler?

You should ask him if he’s the only one on the island.  If he just throws his shit at you, you’ll have to break his spirit and then train him to catch you dinner.  If he answers you, he’s too intelligent and will probably make you his bitch.  Just go with it, it’ll pass the time.

If he wants to make you his butler, go for it.  You’ve fuck all else to do and it’ll look good on your CV when you get back to the world instead of just “Sat on me hole on an island waiting to be rescued.  2004 – present”.

Fuck the Little Mermaid

You know she’s out there and you know she’s up for it.  If you stand around with your knob flapping in the water long enough she’ll see sense and beach herself on the shore for you to have a go.

Either that or a shark will nom your cock off.

He who dares.

Nothing is more manly than a head full of useless information.  It’s used to break the silence in an awkward first date with that young lithe dancer who you convinced that you were hung like a snitch in 50′s mafia and wealthier than Michael O’Leary’s personal Taxi chauffeur.  It can be used to spark lively and entertaining man conversation down the pub, and if you have a website dedicated to all things manly you’ll forever be revered as a genius when you publish them and share your manly knowledge and women will want you to touch them in their underwear regions.  Probably.

It’s a special one this week, having spent most of the weekend travelling to and around London, I think it’s very fitting to feature the airline that we all love to hate, but also love to give our money to.

Ryanair.

Here are a few things that Ryanair say (roughly) and what they mean (actually)

I think we photoshopped out the wrong cock

1.  “With our cheap flights we have allowed people to fly who never would have afforded it otherwise”

“So with the money you’ve saved on a plane fare, we can now rape you for baggage charges.  Not only that but when you get on board we’ll try to sell you everything.  We once found a wallet that had been dropped by some poor cunt, so we called for him on the microphone and gave it back to him in exchange for our “wallet handling fee”.  He thought it was a bit steep at €180, but it wasn’t too much of an inc0nvenience as that’s what he had in there to begin with.”

2.  “You can’t expect first class service for our prices”

“Our staff can turn around a plane at the airport in about 12 seconds, if they don’t we beat them with a wet Aer Lingus uniform.  Would you be able to smile at the sort of bottom feeding cunts we get on planes every day?  Doubt it, now sit the fuck down or we’ll set the wet uniform on you and charge you €35 for the pleasure”

3.  “Our staff are some of the happiest in the industry”

“You never see them that way because this is a work camp, not a happy camp.  They’re concentrating so they can’t be happy while the concentrate.  We would liken our work day to that of a concentration camp, but Hitler and South Park own the rights to the name and the joke”

4.  “We don’t have flight attendants, pilots and airport staff.  We have a diverse family”

“… of humourless cunts.  They have to do everything and our business model asks so much from our staff that they don’t have time to realise that they’re under paid.  Of course now if anyone complains we’ll fuck them out quicker than a volcano ash compensation application form.”

5.  “I love working for Ryanair”

“… are they listening?  I always wanted to work in the glamorous world of the air stewardess.  Now we’re just called staff, the bloke who cleans the sick out of the toilets gets more respect and every time I see blue and yellow seats I want to vomit and self harm.  I dream of working for Virgin or British Airways, but I’ve been with Ryanair for 7 years now and if I left tomorrow I’d only be accepted as a vomit cleaner for the other airlines.  Still, more respect.  And I wouldn’t feel my skin crawling as much”

6.  “Complain all you want, we get you there faster and cheaper”

“Faster because we don’t actually get you there, but 30 miles from wherever “there” is.  Then you’ll be fucked out in the farthest gate in the farthest terminal they have.  Cheaper because if you haven’t brought any luggage and breathe in the way we direct you too it might actually work out cheaper.  Remember though that when you land you’ll have to get trains, buses, taxis to wherever you actually want to get to.  So it’ll seem cheaper in the short term.  Kind of like a cheap prostitute.  Sure it’ll get the job done, but you’ll end up in the clap clinic after it wondering why you keep going back”

7.  “We hope you enjoy your flight”

“Cos if you do, that’ll be another €47 please.  Although to date, we’ve yet to collect a single €47 “enjoyment fee”"

8.  “Sometimes I just want to open the door mid flight and watch as everyone gets sucked out into oblivion and my life’s pain will end”

“No, seriously.”

Disclaimer: If you’re the type of person who finds normal (i.e. human) pornography disgusting, evil, demoralising or degrading then you’re probably not going to like what we’ve got here.

For everyone else: Hey! Take a look at these horny monkeys – they’re fucking hilarious!

First up, monkey blowjob:

This guy wasn’t lucky enough to have a helper, so he took matters into his own hands (literally):

Now we see the exhibitionist pair at work:

This little guy knows what he’s doing is wrong, and yet, it feels so right!

And lastly, here we find a monkey engaging in cross-species rape. Normally, you’d feel pretty bad for the victim – but it’s just so damned funny it’s hard to care!

One odd side-effect of a recession is that complaining about work becomes something of a taboo.

Try mentioning your fears that your manic depressive boss is shitting in your coffee, and it’s as if you’ve just been caught playing seven minutes in heaven with your cousin at a family funeral. Your company will invariably mutter “At least you have a job, dickhead”, and all of a sudden you’re the arsehole.

Five years ago, we talked smack about any cunt who wanted an employee to do so much as wipe down a table for less than 12 quid an hour. Now, many would gladly clean the jacks all day with a toothbrush (provided it meant they didn’t lose their dole) in exchange for a packet of crisps.

Moaning and begrudgery are of course national sports in Ireland, and far be it for me to deviate from that trend. So while I genuinely sympathise with anyone unable to find work at the moment, at least console yourselves with the fact that – for the moment, anyway – you don’t have to put up with shite like this:

Suits: awesome every once in a while, a pain in the hole to wear every day

1 – Dress codes

Remember the justification for school uniforms? That making everyone wear the same manky, itchy,  styleless crap would reduce the chances of people being bullied? Well I’ll be fucked if that still applies now.

I spent 14 years of my life undoing my top button when the teacher’s weren’t looking. Given I plan to be so unfathomably rich and retired by 28, that’s half my working and educational life.

So who is anyone to say I need to now don the universal uniform of the gormless middle manager who cheats at golf and has his own personal roofie dealer? Will I be more productive if I’m sweating my balls off in a crumpled suit, than if I’m in pyjamas baggy enough to smuggle refugees in? Not on your fucking life.

2 – Staff Christmas parties

Debs balls are crap. College balls are also a pile of toss, and I’d rather let Janice from Friends read me a bedtime story for eternity than go to my graudation ball next month. So why do companies insist on recreating these “do’s” when Santa comes calling?

Two hundred employees of different ages at a stuffy dinner function does not a good Christmas party make. What’s wrong with letting each department decide?

Let the pert advertising beores have their evening of cocktail dresses, cocktails and cocks in the gob.

Let the young messers go karting and paintballing before putting the rest of the budget into galavanting in a vat of beer with some strippers.

Let the parents let their hair down for a night while the company picks up the babysitting bill.

Tom from accounts: not Santa

Let the oldies mull over the varieties of incontienence pants over pints of stale stout you could warm your hands on.

But don’t place someone from each department at a table so we can discuss the quarterly review over rock-hard hotel spuds. I’d almost rather be at work.

3 – The Dinosaurs

I’m sure every office has a couple of these. They started as an intern at 16 after failing their Junior Cert, and have literally grown up on the job. Now they’re in their 50s, and using work as an excuse to get away from the battleaxe at home.

Giving deference to experience isn’t a problem for me; but getting your head bitten off for suggesting there might be a better way of doing things than theirs really grinds my gears.

These are the same fucks who make union meetings take four hours longer than they should. I hope they trip over their own grumpiness one day, and fall down the stairs.

4 – Fantasy football busters

I know, I know, I’m allegedly the sports guy around these parts. The loser who learned to reel off obscure stats from Man Yoo’s 1993/94 double-winning season while everyone else was discovering what boobs looked like for real.

I don’t mind an aul bit of fantasy football; I had a cottage industry of pirated copies of Championship Manager when I was in school.

But what I don’t like, is fantasy football with your workmates.

“Ya, ya, I just had to swap Fabregas for Drogba like. Cesc’s head just isn’t in it after all the Barca stuff. That new Mexican full-back Fulham have signed is going to be a belter too, ya. Mark Hughes knows what he’s doing in the transfer market, ya…”

Hump. Right. Off. The lot of ye.

Nothing wrecks my nuts hurt more than people who haven’t a fucking clue about what they’re on about talking as if they’ve won a Nobel prize for their work in the field – repeating what you read on Football 365 does not an expert make.

Making tea: don't get me started

5 – Are ya makin’ the tea?

I am one of those rare Irish people that doesn’t drink tea or coffee. While I am well aware this probably deserves excommunication and a life of exile, the law is – for now – on my side.

Irish people have a bit of a blind spot when it comes to fucks like me. They haven’t a clue how to deal with it. My mother has spent quarter of a century asking if I’d like some tea every time she makes it, even though I’ve never drank the stuff.

This is grand, but becomes a problem in work. Why is it an unwritten rule in the code of tea- and coffee-making that you can not only demand how yours should be made by whichever schmuck has offered to do so, but then complain loudly when it isn’t exactly to your taste?

If this pisses you off too, here’s a solution: offer to make coffee every day for a month. Mix normal coffee and decaf for the first two weeks, increasing the decaf as you go, to wean them off the caffeine. For two more weeks, just decaf. Then, on the last day, lash in 10 of the strongest espressos you can lay your hands on, and watch the carnage.

Fuck yeah.

Ever wonder what might be if Microsoft’s Office Assistant, ‘Clippy’,  had worked his way out of the MS Office and into the world of online tech support? I sincerely fucking doubt it. But maybe, had such a move occurred, you would probably be well used to seeing shit like this…

Wikipedia Clippy:

Facebook Clippy:

Banking Clippy:

Isohunt Clippy:

And, of course, Pornhub Clippy:

Any man who says he doesn’t view porn is a liar.

It’s like a fat person saying his fave grub is a nice green salad.

It’s like a Scientologist saying their belief system isn’t the complete and utter bat shit crazy stuff of bonkers.

It’s like a woman saying she has something called a “clitoris” and “deserves an orgasm” as much as you do.  She might do if the female body was capable of such a thing.

Still trying to convince yourself that you don’t view porn?  Then who is?

Pornhub.com is number 39 in the most visited websites in Ireland.

Xhamster.com (which is a new one on us) is number 48.

Youporn.com is number 70.

Xvideos.com is number 74.

Redtube.com is number 79.

FÁS is number 98.

So it just goes to show that the unemployed in this country spend more time wanking than looking for work.

For anyone who thinks we’ve just plucked these figures out of our arse, check out this link for yourself.

So we’ve established that we watch a lot of porn, but what has it done to us?  It’s disappointed us is what it’s done.  Real life scenarios depicted in porn just don’t happen the way they happen in porn.

Observe as we take you through some every day events and how real life holds up against porn….

The dentist

Porn

You enter the surgery and are greeted by a hot receptionist who is doing nothing more than filing her nails and fixing her stockings.  She shows you to the dentist’s chair and asks you to wait.  In the meantime you spot a handbag and decide to go through it.  You find lots of skimpy undies in there and give them a bit of a sniff.  You’re caught mid inhale but instead of being annoyed, she gets all coy.  In her own words you have to make it up by “eating me out”.  You do so and it progresses to full on coitus.

Depending on the quality of the production you will be interrupted by an equally hot and bisexual dental nurse and you’ll do both of them.  Or the dentist himself will come in and you’ll high five during a spit roast.

This is following an actual clip I saw featuring the filth monger that is Sunny Lane.

Reality

You enter the surgery and are greeted by a grumpy, frumpy greasy receptionist/dental nurse who, since the abolition of free dental care on the social insurance scheme has had to double job.  A far cry from double penetration.  She barks that you’ve to sit in the waiting room where you find nothing but piles of National Geographic and OK! magazines.

You might sniff the odd OK! page if there’s a free sample of ladies perfume on one of them and you’ve forgotten what a real lady smells like.  You’ll get carried away and end up licking the pages.  When you’re caught by the receptionist as she comes to call your name you’ll be told to “behave or get the fuck out”.

Depending on the quality of the surgery you will be interrupted by the receptionist mid filling to take the dentist away to re-fit Mrs O’Reilly’s dentures that have come loose.

The girl scout

Porn

You’re going about your day, probably having an innocent shower when the doorbell rings and it’s a hot 19 year old in the same girl scout outfit her 9 year old sister wears.

She’s selling cookies and bats her eyelids until you buy some boxes.  Before you know it, she’s on your couch offering her own cookie for a special price because she has to send her sister to space camp.  Turns out you haven’t got enough money, but after she’s seen your cock it doesn’t matter.  You can have a go anyway.

Depending on the quality of the production a passing Brownie will be selling cookies too, spy you through your window and come to join in and you frost both of their cookies.

Reality

When was the last time a girl scout knocked at your door?  Never.  And if one ever did, you know what you’d do?  You’d either buy a box of biscuits or send her away.

Because she’ll probably be like a CHILD.

You could try your hand at what happened in the movie if you’re a sick sick person who deserves to have his nuts lobbed off.

Depending on the quality of the prosecution you’ll end up sharing a cell with someone who forces you to wear a girl scout outfit while you tuck yourself between your legs and dance for him.

The Debt Collector

Porn

You call to the door of a woman who owes money all over town.  Your boss has told you to get payment “by any means necessary”.  The door opens and it’s a woman in her 30′s who is in tinier clothes than her 18 year old daughter who is just fresh from the shower.

She has no money and begins to cry.  Through her tears, she offers to pay you in kind.  Your boss will be pissed, but when the daughter offers to join in and tag team her mother, well bless you if you don’t see their side of the story.

Depending on the quality of the production the mother and daughter will at one point lez it up together good and proper.  You’ll switch between the two until you’re drained of every fluid your body had.  They’ll think they’ve paid their debt, but you announce that you’ll be back on Friday for the next instalment.  They protest, but really they look forward to it.  They also tell their hot friends who also have money troubles all about how they can repay their debts.

Reality

You take the low life pond scum job of debt collecting because you’re up to your eyes in debt of your own.  You call to a house of a woman who has defaulted on her car payments.

She pretends not to be home.

You call again the next day.

She pretends not to be home.

You call the next day.

A bloke answers and says he’s never heard of the woman you’re looking for.

You can go no further, lose your commission on the payable debt and go back on the dole.

Depending on the quality of the area you’re collecting in the housewives you call to will either call on “Whacker” next door when you don’t leave her doorstep and he’ll bate the shite out of you with a stiletto.  Or they’ll be so used to being rich that they might actually suck you off if you promise to meet them in the SuperQuinn car park in future to avoid embarrassment from her snooty neighbours.

So there you have it.

Porn has lied to us all along.

Nothing is more manly than a head full of useless information.  It’s used to break the silence in an awkward first date with that young lithe dancer who you convinced that you were hung like a pretty basket of flowers on a sunny summer’s day and wealthier than a man who has no money but at least has his health, good friends and a wife who loves him.  Until he realises that he’s broke and throws himself under a bus to cope with the depression of it all .  It can be used to spark lively and entertaining man conversation down the pub, and if you have a website dedicated to all things manly you’ll forever be revered as a genius when you publish them and share your manly knowledge and women will want you to touch them in their underwear regions.  Probably.

It’s been a few weeks since the last Man Facts, but that’s just because I didn’t do one.

Here are some true facts about Jellyfish:

Australia’s box jellyfish has toxins more potent than the venom in cobras. A person who is stung can die within minutes.

The hydra, which is related to the jellyfish, can grow its body back in a couple of days if it is cut in half.

Jellyfish have been on Earth for over 650 million years. This is before sharks and dinosaurs.

The Australian box-jellyfish has eight eyes.

Jellyfish are 95% water

Jellyfishes have no brain, no blood, and no nervous system.

The world’s largest jellyfish has tentacles reaching half a football field.

And here are some not so true facts about Jellyfish that we kind of wish were true:

Jellyfish are actually made of Jelly.  They don’t sting people they’re just so sour that it fucks you up good and proper.  Ammonia, or pee is the only way to take the pain away from the sourness.  Which is why I don’t eat fizzy jellies.

Jellyfish are the sex pests of the sea world.  Those tentacles are actually a bit grabby and there are more jellyfish in sexual harassment  tribunals than any other sea creature.  Filth bags.

A Jellyfish killed Will Smith at the end of the movie Seven Pounds.  Not in the movie, but actually for real.  Nope, life isn’t that good.

Jellyfish are often sold as pets.  These come from Jellyfish farms.  It’s such a magical thing to see the Jellyfish running around fields just like they would be doing in the wild.

All Jellyfish are lactose intolerant.  Don’t ask how I found this out, but needless to say I’ll never forget it.