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Twilight…….fucking Twilight.

What the hell is going on?  I remember a time when a woman wanted to be fucked by ancient creatures of the night were ridiculed and classed as Emo’s or Catherine Zeta Jones .  Now it seems that every woman, and their daughters, want to slobber on vampire or werewolf cock.

Think about that last sentence: Slobber on vampire or werewolf cock.  I’ll leave that thought with you for a moment.

Finished?  Good!  Now that that image has sunk in, can somebody please tell me how the hell that this obsession has transcended from being a cult fetish to every girls wank material?  To the lucky few who have no idea what the Twilight series is about, it is essentially a story of how some silly bitch falls in love with a moody 17 year old emo twat, that turns out to be a 107 year old vampire. Then some American Indian fucker comes in and wants to be with the silly bitch, but it turns out that he is a werewolf, and we all know that werewolves and vampires hate each other.  At least thats what I got from it.

I’ve been told by some women who have tried to rationalise their sick perversion, that it’s about forbidden love and romance.

Bollocks.  That would be more fitting as the title of Gary Glitter’s new autobiography rather than an accurate description of this story of a slut that fucks animals and vampires.

I had the misfortune of attending the Irish premiere of New Moon in the Savoy when it was released.  I had promised myself that I would judge the film on its own merits and ignore the preconceptions that I had going in.  As I wandered through the crowd in the lobby, I became painfully aware that I was the only heterosexual male in attendance.  That would not be a bad thing in most circumstances, but remember, I was not surrounded by normal women; these were Twilight women.  Mostly fat, mostly ugly but strangely ranging in ages from 7 to 70.  How can a film about paedophelia and beastiality have such a diverse fanbase?

All became clear as soon as Robert Pattison (vampire) and Taylor Lautner’s (werewolf) names appeared on the screen.  Every girl leapt from their seats and started gasping as if they’d just been fingered for the first time.  The homosexual guys were not as bad, they just gripped their partner’s legs and nodded knowingly at each other.  This was before the fuckers even appeared on screen.  And fuck me, when the two boys eventually came on-screen, it was frightening.  Remember now lads, the “characters” are meant to be a 107 year old but in a 17 year old’s body and a fucking wolf, and young girls, grown women and OAP’s are soaking their respective nappies, knickers and, well nappies, just by looking at them.  Screen 1 in the Savoy smelled like a fish market.

The day’s of the week, all are different.  And everyone has their favourite for certain reasons.  Al ot of people like Thursday, as it’s pay day.

Then most like Friday’s, as it’s let’s get pissed day.  Or maybe that’s just me and I need to join one of those group meeting things.

Around comes Saturday, which we all like.  Have a lie-on, out for a few drinks, maybe invite some people around.  Always a bit of laugh is Saturday.

Sunday.  To some a religious Day.  I usually spend it watching football, reading newspapers or eating big juicy roast dinners but always relaxing.

Monday, the painful day which everyone hates.  Including me suffering with the D.T’S after a clatter load of gargle all weekend.  (Note to self, check out the meetings.  At least get the application form)

Tuesday.  It’s better than Monday, say us in unison.  But then.

BUT THEN..!!!!

POXY…STUCK-IN-THE-MIDDLE…SPELLED STUPIDLY….WEDNESDAY !!!!

What a waste of time Wednesdays are.  Lingering there, mid-week.  Not the start.  Not the end.  Just There.  Like the middle child that gets no attention.  The child that wasn’t giving the breast.  The lonely.  If it was a person, it would grow up to be a mass murderer and would kill all the other days because people like them and they have a reason to exist.  Horrible day, is our Wednesday.

And while we’re at it, should Wednesday not be spelled “WHENN-S-DAY” ?

It’s spelt like an elaborate prank to confuse dyslexic kids.  Same as gnat, knob or knife.  Actually, anything with a silent letter is a horrible thing.

Think about it.  Say it out loud, ”WEDNESDAY”.  God it makes me fell sick. It makes me want to get a blade and self-harm.  Engrave its weirdo spelling into my forearm emo style-ee.

The world would be a much better place without this cursed cunt of a day.  When I was young I used to think that yesterday was a day of the week.  I also thought that tomorrow was a day of the week.  So by my rationing, we lived a 9 day week.  Monday, Tuesday, Tomorrow, Yesterday, Wednesday,Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday.

But even though it was silly to think that we lived in a 9 day week, there the smug cunt still was right bang in the middle.  Right there between Yesterday and Thursday. Even in a fake week, it’s a wanker.

One time I had a birthday on a Wednesday and I got herpes.

One year Christmas fell on a Wednesday and I woke up to see Santa molesting himself over my pillow.

If I was a time traveller like in Quantum Leap, every fucking day I’d land on would be a Wednesday.  Then it would be shown on the telly every Wednesday.

Every time I do the lotto on a Wednesday it’s snatched away from me by only 6 poxy numbers.

True Story

One day when I was minding my own business a pigeon landed on my head and took a dump.  That day was a Wednesday.

There was a black baby in an orphanage once and Madonna wouldn’t adopt it because its middle name translated as Wednesday.

Not to worry though, it’s gone for another week, and I got paid today.  Getting drunk tomorrow.

I have 6 days to figure out how I’m going to rid the world of Wednesdays.

Let me begin by saying that if we have any readers who are traffic wardens, or clampers for that matter then I can safely say that I speak for the general population when I tell you to not only fuck off this site, but just get ta fuck out of it altogether.

Here are some people I’d rather be than a traffic warden/clamper

• A ginger
• A fat ginger
• Twink
• Mary Harney’s belly button fluff
• A ginger’s belly button fluff
• A ginger Mary Harney

You get the point.

Traffic wardens get away with murder.  You try walking around a car park slowly peering into people’s windscreens and see how long it takes you to get called a weirdo.  Stick a high visibility jacket on while doing it and it’s ok.  Except it’s not.

If you ever witness a traffic warden issuing a ticket, he’s got a hard on before he sticks it under the wiper.  It’s the rush of adrenaline that comes from having to do it before getting caught.  Like wanking under the cape when you’ve got a hot lady barber.  They have to act fast, because if they’re caught while doing it, all hell will break loose.  Humans have evolved a sense of rage towards these people that is only akin to an alpha male gorilla towards some other monkey fuckwit messing with his shit.

We’ll scream and shout, beat our chests and if the traffic warden is a particularly smug bastard we’ll hurl handfuls of our own shit at them.  This is all acceptable, because it’s instinct.  It might also be allowed by law, we haven’t checked or anything, but we know a guy who was once given a ticket when his parking meter ran out by only two hours.  He kidnapped the traffic warden, tied him up and left him in a bush somewhere.  He didn’t tell me where he left him, but he said that if Martin Cahill’s stash is found, it’ll be before the traffic warden is ever surfaced.

And you know what?  No evidence means no prosecution.

Clampers are just as bad.  When a traffic warden gets a horn issuing a ticket, a clamper full on creams himself.  The thrill of trying to stick a ticket on a windscreen has long since passed.  Like a sexual deviant moving from shagging oap’s to midgets, they have to move on to immobilising people’s cars.

And they do it in pairs, like rapists.  They trawl the streets looking for a sweet piece of car meat to prey on, then they pounce.  The clamp goes on with the lightning speed of a ninja panther.  Then, just in case they cream themselves too quick to allow for savouring the moment, they take pictures of the car with the clamp on it.  This allows for a circle wank back at the depot.  Clamper van depots smell like exhaust, wanks and self loathing.

These people don’t provide a service of keeping traffic moving or stopping people parking where they shouldn’t, they just pay their own wages.

Does a barman set up a stall outside an AA meeting?  No, it’d be a great way to pay his own wages, but there’s a moral issue there.

Traffic wardens and clampers have no morals, mostly because most of them will be wearing their own teenage daughter’s knickers to enhance the sexual thrill they get from fucking someone’s day up.

Next time you see the fat wobbling sacks of failure walking down the road, don’t be afraid to shout shit at them.  Nothing specific, use your imagination.

We all know the type, the person who always has to go one further whenever you say anything.  Maybe this sounds familiar:

Work

“Just got promoted in work, it was a long time coming but I’m really happy”

“Yeah?  I was head hunted and left my old job for double the salary, perks, a better company car and a secretary with the biggest tits I’ve ever seen on a real person.  But your news is good too”

“thanks”

Gadgets

“I finally got myself a BluRay player.  Don’t have too many bluray movies yet, but I’ll get there.  I just decided to treat myself, plus they’re a lot cheaper than they were”

“Yeah?  I couldn’t wait.  As soon as they came out, I was straight up to my best friend Harvey Norman to get one.  Of course we didn’t know which was going to be the winner in the next gen war, HD or BluRay, so I bought both.  Can’t be too careful these days, don’t want to be left behind.  Did you upgrade your tv?”

“Well I have a Plasma screen, got it a while back, so yeah it’ll look good”

“Plasma?  What is this, 2005?  You have to upgrade my man, I just got a brand spanky new LED tv with 3D capabilities.  It’s the way of the future, yep, that new Avatar DVD I have on order is going to look saweeeet!  But glad you finally got a bluray”

“thanks”

Illness

“Was out for a few days there.  Doctor said it was some kind of virus, tricky things those viruses.”

“Yeah?  I got a virus once, and it nearly killed me.  In fact it technically did.  I died for 14 minutes and had a team of medical professionals around me trying to revive me.  I saw it as I floated above my bed.  I’m not a spiritual person, but I did see a white light”

“And you didn’t go into it?”

“Sorry?”

“But now you’re fit… …. again?”

“Oh yeah totally, can’t keep a good dog down.  Good to hear you’re better after your little ouchy”

“thanks”

Women

“Had a really great date last night, we just clicked.  We talked for hours before we realised the restaurant was closing around us.  Not going to rush it, but I have a really good feeling about this one”

“Yeah?  That happened me once, and when the waitress came over to ask us to leave I charmed her aswell and the three of us ended up going back to my place for a game of “Who’s finger?”.  They were gorgeous too.  Yer wan I was on the date with looked like Angelina Jolie, only less like a frog and the waitress looked like Megan Fox only with bigger tits.  Either one of them could have been the one, but they kind of ganged up on me after their trip to the clinic.  But I’m sure your homely looking bird is lovely”

“thanks”

We all know a cunt like this and there’s only one way to describe them, deep breath now -

Limp dicked small dicked over compensating because he’s no real friends and most certainly still a virgin unless you count the time he paid his one armed cousin for a hand job and we don’t smarmy skin crawling insufferable cunt nugget.

That’s better.

I have come to the conclusion that I am the best road driver in the world.

A couple of years back I had a crash that was caused by a person making a right hand turn and crossing the oncoming traffic without looking.  I was in that oncoming traffic and my car was written off.

I studied for my theory test, passed it.  Then I took my practical and passed it, first time.  I still drive carefully and yet because I’m a male of a certain age, I’m still statistically a liability.

The crash I had was caused by a woman.  This isn’t a sexist chauvinistic piece about women drivers, don’t worry.

Today I was very nearly in another crash, in a supermarket carpark.  A dude in a Merc decided that looking before pulling out of his space at speed just wasn’t for him and I slammed the brakes with inches between the cars.

Jumping out of the car and shouting at him resulted in him lecturing me on not using bad language, which I thought was rich coming from someone who had just given me the finger and gesturing that I was a wanker.

Note to self – using the word “Fuck” is obscene, giving someone the fingers and wanking gesture is not.  Hmm, funny that.

He was at fault and when challenged on it, I was somehow the bad guy.  Fuck it, he’ll crash into someone else one of these days, all because he won’t be paying attention to where he’s going.

I’ve had so many near misses because of people like this.

Here is a list of things that I do while driving:

• Indicate, in time for other motorists and pedestrians to notice.
• Look where I’m going.
• Use my mirrors.
• Don’t use the mobile.
• Wear my seatbelt.
• Use the outside lane for overtaking only.
• Obey the speed limit.

Here is a list of things that other fuckers on the road to while driving:

• All of the above, whenever the fucking mood takes them.

But then again this old fool that nearly caused the two of us stress at the hands of insurance companies was well over 60.  This probably means that he got his licence by just filling out a form all those decades ago and just renewed it ever since.  Driving whatever way he has seen fit without a single consideration for others.  His insurance policy probably costs as much as a sliced pan too.

So men of a certain age pay high premiums because we watch out for the mistakes of others.  That’s how it works.  Our insurance is so high that as much as a scrape on someone else’s car will result in us being financially raped for years to come.  This is why we pay so much attention on the roads, because other fuckers don’t and it’ll cost us in the end.

Here’s a few tips for every fucker on the road out there in our fair island:

Get off your cunting phone.  Put it down because it makes you unsafe on the roads, not because you want to shake your fist at the inconsiderate fucker in the correct lane with an indicator on at the roundabout.

Take your highbeams off.  Turn them off because it blinds the driver coming in the other direction, not because I’m flashing mine at you to warn you and then just turn them off as you’re finally passing me.  Cunt.

Check your mirrors while reversing.  Check your mirrors because it’s the safe thing to do, not because you want to see who or what you’ve hit coming out of parking space.

Check the speed limit.  I’m travelling at 100kmph, which is the speed limit on this road, flashing your lights at me and blowing your horn doesn’t apply to the department of transport and the RSA and instantly change it to your preferences.  Plus the tinted windows in your brand new beamer make you look like a tosser.

Foreigners are amazed at how we’re still alive most of the time after just one trip around any of our roads, mostly at the hands of a population that would consider itself competent at the wheel.

Oh and have you noticed how many learner drivers there are left on the road?  When’s the last time you saw a car with an L plate on it?  Probably around the time that the law became stricter on L drivers and the fuzz started seizing cars on the spot from L drivers without a licenced driver with them.  Funny how the Irish mind works.

L drivers take their stickers down and it stops them from being noticed, until they do something stupid.  The good ol’ Garda Siochanna stop looking because they don’t see the stickers.  Out of sight, out of mind.

But maybe I’m being bitter, after all the local authorities and government seem right on top of solving the many problems on the roads.  Potholes get filled in with gravel and that’s that.  Speed cameras that do nothing more than nothing.

It’s all good though, giving me a parking ticket for parking in a taxi bay that hasn’t seen a taxi in the 4 years it’s been there is the way of the future.

Today everyone is a cunt except me.

Deal with it.