Censorship is a wonderful thing.  The ability to change something perfectly good and ruin it because someone somewhere has an issue.

An example of this is watching a music video channel.  I watched a song where the word “pissed” was dubbed over.  Sadly it was not dubbed over with the words “covered in whipped cream” or something as that would make it more fun to hear “I’m covered in whipped cream cause you came around” .  But it was 11pm at night.  I am fairly sure that I am allowed to hear the word “pissed” at 11pm at night.  It wound me up quite a bit and I sat for a couple of hours with it building up inside of me, so to confirm this I woke my very tired wife up and asked her.  Her reply said it all.  She said

“It is 1am in the morning.  You are 33 years old for hells sake.  Piss off”

So there you have it.  I am allowed to hear it.  But what was even more stupid about the word being dubbed over is that the following video…just 4 minutes later…contained full frontal nudity, someone vomiting, fighting and everything else you get in a video by the Prodigy.  Uncensored.  OK, so I am not complaining about being forced to see female nudity.  And by forced I mean I didn’t blink for 3 minuted 20 seconds.

I have decided that bad words shall be dubbed over on this site for the remainder of this post.  Bad/whatever I feel like/naughty words will be replaced with the word “bunny wabbit”.

I hate censorship about as much as I hate small issues that get so blown out of context that I would rather enjoy a violent kick in the bunny wabbit when I am least expecting it. 

Over here is good old Blighty we currently have an issue whereas 2 radio presenters left a few voice mails on an old guys phone.  OK, so they weren’t exactly “Hey, would you like to come for dinner?” and one of the messages did contain “I bunny wabbit you granddaughter!”. 

Outrage!  Sack them!  Disgusting! were all words that got thrown about.  Except that during the show, they had a combined total of 2 complaints (one I believe was from someone who missed it and wanted it replayed and the other was from someone who needs to get a life).  And then the worthless jobsworths at the tabloid rags got hold of it and printed about the outrage.  And now 20000 people have complained.

Just one thing.  The granddaughter, the unhappy poor little girl who has had her name all over the papers and probably desperately doesn’t want to be in all the papers because she is such an innocent little bunny wabbit.  Well, she has a stage-name of Voluptua and promotes herself as a member of Satanic Sluts Extreme.  I don’t see a need for censoring that line.  It is all above board.  And she did indeed sleep with one of the presenters.  So “Voluptua” who also has the name Georgina Baillie  should you feel the need to look her up, has a 78 year old grandfather who didnt hear the voicemails for 3 days.  Of course he didn’t.  He is 78.  He doesn’t even know he HAS a phone!

This issue is on TV constantly at the moment.  It is just lucky it is a slow news year and there are no issues with global markets and people losing their homes, petrol prices rising and falling and record profits by the oil companies.  Oh, and the fact that no one talks about me.  Which they should because I am an amazingly interesting person you know and not a complete bunny wabbit like the people talked about in this post.

So I wish to start a moral crusade.  A crusade to stop the filth that is fed to us daily.  The disgusting mess that destroys our lives and creates a culture built around false hopes and promises.

I am talking about bunny wabbit.

Ah..sorry, I forgot I am censoring.  Let me just uncensor that line and try again.

I am talking about reality TV.  Shows that involve people living in houses with lots of cameras or a bunch of people who honestly truly think they can sing.  And they can’t.  Oh for the love of Bunny wabbit they can’t.

Or bunny wabbit factor and Big Bunny Wabbit as they are known over here.

It needs to stop and WE need to stop it.  So if you are against bunny wabbit TV, write to your local bunny wabbit (dammit…I mean member of parliament.  The censoring toolkit I have is really getting involved here!) and demand that it is taken off the air and replaced with something better.  Maybe the test signal or something which contains that bit more excitement.  If you are indeed a fan of these shows, sort your bunny wabbit life out and get on board with my crusade already!

Wow.  You just read over 800 words.  That is time you will never get back!  Do come back again!

According to the Crowne Plaza hotel chain, who should spend more time making sure that people have a great stay and less time asking people to fill in polls; the most inspirational time of the day is 10:04pm. 

I started to think about ideas for a great post about 10ish, and all I came up with was a few empty beer cans.  And no ideas. 

So is this 10:04pm thing time zone specific because I am quietly confident that at 10:04pm in a hotel room around the world in the Crowne Plaza hotels that the average guest (when I say average guest, I mean “Male on his own on company business and an expense account”) will be watching pay per view porn.  He is not thinking of inspirational things for work or home. 

I do know that when I was away on business and staying in a hotel, at 10:04pm at night I found myself trying not to listen to the overactive vocal chords of the young (and sometimes scarily older when I saw them the next morning) lady who has been trying her best to please the gentleman she was with by screaming the damn place down.  I always hated that.  I have no urge to listen to people in the room next to me banging the hell out of the wall and ruining the bed for the next occupants. 

But it seems that if you are in a hotel room with a prostitute/secretary/bit on the side that you automatically start your own rodeo.

There are exceptions to this rule though.  Sometimes you can be a 13 year old kid who is being mentally scarred by the couple who live next door.  The worst thing I could see was the young children being taken away for the weekend by the grandparents.  This meant one thing.  Lock all of your windows and earplugs at the ready.

They were a little “active” when the kids weren’t there.  But by active, I mean that they would open all the windows, leave all the lights on and then they would bring their best game to the table.  Sadly their best game was to be so freakin loud that I was almost put off of sex before I started!  What was he doing in there?  Killing her?  As I got older and a little wiser to these things, I found that I had weird thoughts running through my head.  Things like:

–  Just where were they hiding the gimp that the kids couldn’t find him?

–  Why did they buy lots of oranges and rubber bands?  Was he chewing through them too quickly?

–  Why did she always choke and cough just after he shouted (I am assuming from another room?) “I’m coming!”?  Was she sneaking chocolate while he was out of the room and choking on it as he was calling saying he was coming back through eating it too quickly?  I don’t know…but something wasn’t right.  Maybe they were playing hide and seek…but that didn’t make sense as before that they were all noisy.  Maybe he was…..oohhhhh……yeeeeah.  OK, lets leave this bit here.  I get it now.

But back to the survey before I wet the bed for a month again through thinking of that stuff…

In the same “poll”, they mention that the least creative time of the day is at 4:33pm.  Never.  At 4:33 when I worked a 9-5 job, I was always seeking inspirational ideas as to how I can escape early.  Another Dr’s appointment?  Dentist appointment?   Trip to the “clinic” to get some stuff sorted out?  So many possibilities.  And I mean reasons to go home early and not why I was at the clinic. 

But the biggest flaw in the poll was “Taking a shower is the most popular way of getting your creative juices flowing”.

Yes.  Creative Juices.  Obviously. 

 

Note:  In slightly more serious news, I am off shift at the moment, and my ISP gets changed inside of the next week, so there may be a delay in the creation of the next post if things go a little bit bad on the changeover.   You can wish me luck, but I prefer money.

A British man (yeah, us Brits rule!) has the record for having more Lego than anyone else in the world.  (I bet the makers of Lego would have something to say about that, as I am pretty sure they have more, but who am I to question.)  He has over two million bricks, and no life.  He is also 32.  I am 33 and when I compared the differences between me and him, I was happy to find out that I am pretty much the greatest person I ever met.  He came a very distant third and quite a distance behind “the rest of the world”.

His wife, a person who enjoys feeling parts of and sticking her hand inside animals (or a vet if you please) doesn’t like his collection.  Although I am willing to bet that he never complains when she brings her work home with her.  Of course, bringing her work home would involve having puppies in the house, so I guess this entire paragraph is a waste of time.

What bothers me is that he spends all day on Internet forums talking to other Lego fans.  So this got me thinking:

Just what the hell are they talking about?

So I did some research.  I went to one of these “forums of geekness” and had a look. 

Boy was I not even mildly surprised.  The forum I found was at www.LegoUsersBrickIt.com/NoLife/ForumsOfNerd and below is part of a thread I found: ***

User “LegoLoverLovesLego” said in a thread called “I’ve got big bricks and I can not lie, no other bricks get made from the same die” (which personally I think he ripped from the popular albeit crap song I like big butts) started with: 

“I have a yellow brick with 6 dots on top and hollow on the bottom.  I can then get the same size brick again and attach it!  What do you have?”

This was replied to by “TheLegoLogoLooksLovely” who said:

“Wow!  Ah man, you are so supremely awesome!  Have you got it in blue too?  My bricks only have the 4 dots on them and are smaller.  You are the man!”.

Then “IHaveNoLife” replied:

“I have a Lego airport and I made a runway and everything, but my Lego plane wont fly.  Why do you think that is?”

i stopped reading at this point because frankly…I was scared.  Who are these people?  Do they have a special club, or go to a club for special people?  Do they spend their spare time scouring the shops for bricks they don’t have and then when they find some, they use their mobile phone to connect to the forum and put a post up while filling the incontinence pants they are wearing to contain their excitement?  And if you turn on the accessibility tools and have it read out the posts for you, will the voice have a distinctly nerdy nasal tone to it?  If not, I think Microsoft need to develop this function.

So there you have it.  On reading the profiles of several users, I was less than shocked to find that they were all single, or had fetishes saved for sites that most countries like to try to make illegal. 

 

*** OK, so I may have made the forum and all of that conversation up, and if the user names actually exist, I apologise.  Except when I say “I apologise”, I actually mean “Dude…you need to get out more!  Heed my warning…you will die lonely”.

I haven’t done an “abuse the search engine results” post for a while.  For those that don’t remember, those that cannot be bothered to try and remember and for the newer people reading the site, HERE is a previous post.

But you don’t want to read that when you can read this!

As before, the words in the ” ” are the words that were used in google by people to find the site.  The rest is me just abusing them:

Dear Sy:  Can you tell me why “Being a vegetarian is bad“?

Uncle Sy Says:  Yes.  Because the slaughter of innocent vegetables is wrong.  Cow’s and Chicken’s deserve it.  Actually, they love it.  When the baby cow’s and chickens and sheep are at school, they learn how the greatest thing they can have is to end up on my plate.  Remember that salad is food’s food.

Dear Sy:  When my boyfriend misbehaves, I “squeeze his balls”

Uncle Sy Says:  Well a punishment is always needed.  Just like me and my wife.  When she misbehaves…erm…well, she is a woman.  That basically means that she is never wrong.  As for me, I prefer she nibbles rather then squeezes.  But that is a completely different question.

Dear Sy:  I like “sniffing sweaty socks”

Uncle Sy Says:  That’s wonderful.  I like beating up idiots.  I suggest walking away now as I am starting to twitch as you talk.

Dear Sy:  Is it wrong that I like “breathing hamster feces“?

Uncle Sy Says:  Not at all.  In fact, get your credit card out, cut a few hamster poops up and give them a good hard sniff.  You will feel like a superhero, and there are a whole load of addicts out there waiting for pure hamster poop to inject/smoke/snort.

Dear Sy:  My “car is chirping when I turn the wheel”

Uncle Sy Says:  You ran over a bird.  Stop the car, get out, remove the injured avian and take it to the vet.  Once that is done, have a think about how stupid you are to ask google such an obvious question.

Dear Sy:  “Do rich tea biscuits give you spots?”

Uncle Sy Says:  No, it is that huge bar of chocolate and the fact you don’t wash.  Now put the chocolate down and go have a bath.  You smell.

Dear Sy:  Can you tell me some “funny reflections of turning forty?”

Uncle Sy Says:  I really can’t.  There is nothing funny about turning forty.  And with the whole issue of euthanasia means that you shouldn’t be laughing either…it is almost your time!

Dear Sy:  I am wondering “how do they write ooohhh”

Uncle Sy Says:  Like this: ooohhh.  Not the brightest bulb in the box are you!?  I am guessing you were lonely at school.

Dear Sy:  “How many hours does it take to get a hamster pregnant“?

Uncle Sy Says:  It depends on how much you are enjoying yourself, and if you are holding back from finishing.  Oh, and it is illegal, so get your pecker out of the poor little thing.  You need help.  And a human hamster (or Humster as they would be known) would scare children.

Dear Sy:  Can you help me, “how to hump a guy sexy”

Uncle Sy Says:  There is no way I am crossing swords with that guy just to give you some help.  Instead, why not buy a book on just that kind of thing which will put him right in the mood to the point where it won’t matter how good or bad you are?  Get him the pictorial biography of Jocelyn Wildenstein.  That should do it!

Dear Sy: “If you have a hamster for a year and get another one, what will happen?”

Uncle Sy says:  You will have 2 hamsters.  Math is just not your strong point huh?

The University of California found that surfing the web is good for the brain.  Actually, it stimulates parts of the brain that banging your head against a wall while shouting “Nyip Nyip BAAAAHH!” doesn’t. 

No, I wasn’t that shocked to find it out either.

But lets look at this subjectively.  I see major flaws in the research.  I will list some, but I think you will have a few more which I welcome to hear in the comments section!

My first piece of evidence is that if I go surfing for ways to paint my house, my brain level will decrease with boredom to the point where my intelligence hits that of your average corpse; which granted is not much more below my average level.

My second is that if I was to read up on the finer points of being an accountant, I would actually lose brain cells as my head hits the desk and I start to dribble while mouthing the words “make it stop”.  As a side not, this one comes in very handy at night when I can’t sleep and I get my wife to talk about what she does at work.  Likewise, I talk IT to her when she cant sleep.  We are a marriage made in heaven when it comes to insomnia!  The rest of the time she just thinks I am a jerk.  With good reason I fear!

Moving on to the obvious, what if they were surfing for material that helps with “one handed surfing”?  That is going to stimulate a LOT more than just the brain which means that blood flow is moved from your brain to “other” areas of the body.  And then once any one handed surfing may be complete, the brain activity is going to move to the “snooze” setting.  Again, this shows that the evidence is slightly flawed.  But this surfing technique does a lot more than that.  If you spend too much time testing this theory, you will go blind.

What if you surf while drunk?  You will be seeing two of everything.  Does that mean that you are duplicating your intelligence?  I have an idea this may be right, because when I get drunk I know the answers to everything.  And I mean that.  I will fight you if you don’t believe what I say.  Alcohol makes me a modern day Einstein.

So just what were they using to test the theory?  And who were they using?  The worlds most uninteresting person maybe?  A person that finds the mouse moving across the screen stimulating?  Or did they only let them see certain sites which didn’t include nude images of Britney Spears? In fact, maybe they only showed sites that promised nude pictures of famous people to see how active the brain would become trying to find a way in which doesn’t involve getting your credit card out?

I just don’t understand the working behind the research, and it has to be a truck load of crap.  All I know is that writing this post has given me a headache and made me think too hard compared to my non-Internet using time.

Haaaaang on….

So it seems that we are all safe, and the crackjobs who predicted that the “Galactic Federation of Light” would turn up and cuddle us all to death have all gone back to there hidey holes to have a think about what they said.

Of course saying that, it could be that Chief Commander Paddington Bear has alternative plans for us and rather than cuddle us to death, he will do something far more awful.  Something like making the New Kids on the Block comeback successful, so we are forced to endure more audio punishment than we were on their first time round.

Or maybe…juuuust maybe…the whole Galactic Federation of Light should be renamed “The Galactic Federation of Complete and Utter Bollocks”.   I googled it (the original, not the bollocks version), and there were a LOT of people who believed it.  I have just one question.  I think it is all encompassing of how people may feel on this.  And that is:

What the hell are these people on!?!?

But as people seem to go for all this crap, I am starting the “Cult of the Dead Hamster“.  And I want you to follow me.  There is not much to it; just a few simple rules.

1 – I own everything you own.  Actually, you won’t own it anymore.  I will only take paid up mortgages, and none of your “I still owe £4000000 on it” BS.  I am not here to do you favours you know!

2 – You must recruit as many “followers” as possible to the cult, and you will get a cut (0.003%) of the profits I make from their stuff up to a maximum of £11.93, and you WILL be thankful.

3 – You must do everything in your power to make sure that I, your esteemed leader, am comfortable at all times.  This could be by bringing me snacks, women of the “loose” variety (and I don’t mean they have fingers hanging off or something.  Keep your leprosy drenched weirdo’s to yourself) or working out just how the hell to shut my parrot up as he is doing my head in which doesn’t involve strangulation (my wife is a little against the violence against bird option that I prefer).

So not a lot to do then!  Although I am thinking.  Is the word “Cult” maybe a little too “strict” sounding?  Should I rename it to the “Awfully Fun, Nothing Bad Could Happen Dead Hamster Party”? That sounds a little more like it is all drink, drugs and sausage rolls and less me stealing everything you have in the world for my own selfish devious means? 

The only other alternative is”The All Numpties Under Sy Party” which does have the downside of being “The ANUS Party” which means that all my followers will be my Arses.  

Not sure.  What one do you prefer?  After all, it is your party!  I want you to be happy.  If you aren’t happy, I am not happy.  If I am not happy….oh God help you mere mortals.

 

The idea of me starting a cult actually appeared quite some time ago on a comment conversation on a post by Goergie B HERE.  I finally worked out how I could use it thanks to the intergalactic psycho teddy bears!

First we were going to end up tearing a hole in the universe and all die due to the particle accelerator being turned on, but now it is a lot worse.  The particle accelerator was nothing compared to the carnage coming our way.

According to several nutjobs informed people around the world, the Galactic Federation of Light are due to arrive in the skies of our planet on October 14th…or tomorrow to the rest of us.  And what are they going to do?  Cuddle us to death.

No really.  They are coming to spread their love.  But don’t trust them.  As a randy teenager, I did my very best to “spread my love” as often as I could to as many unsuspecting teenage girls not ready to understand that I just didn’t really love them like I said, and then later on in life in clubs around town when I was a little more then a lot drunk.  But that pales in comparison to the arrival of the cosmic teddy bears. 

OK, so I dont have any confirmation that they are indeed teddybears, but if something is going to come spread the cuddle of doom, it surely has to be a teddy.  Or as I should maybe put it, “It better not be elvis”.  Although I guess the burger companies would welcome the profit boost from his return?

But have no fear my friends.  I have assembled an army of bitter adults who had their teddy leave them years ago to go backpacking across the antarctic (well, that is where my mum told me mine went when Mr Funkles went missing one day while I was at school, aged 14) and now have an inbuilt hatred towards them.  Together we will defeat them.  I will be watching the skies all night tonight for you to keep you safe.  Well, I am working the night shift at work and will be watching TV, but rest assured that if something does indeed happen, I sure as hell wont notice as I will be napping as the pesky cuddly bear creeps up and tries to give me his love.

I dont want to be “loved” by a teddy.  Unless it is in the shape of Jessica Rabbit.  I mean, if you are going to go…go happy!

 

Hey, you might think I am joking, but THIS website told me.  And the Interwebthingie doesn’t lie!

According to THISnews story, a Chinese man can write on paper by sucking up water through his nose and then spraying it out through his tear ducts. 

Impressive?  It may well be.  But what if I told you that I onec ate an entire McDonalds meal and was only sick twice?  Or ate a whole vegeburger at “HorrendousBurgers ‘R’ Us” and was only disgusted with myself for 4 days?   Or if you want me to be super awesome, I used Windows Vista for 11 minutes in a row without saying the words “Oh for Christs sake!  What the friggin hell!”.  Actually, if any of my readers work for Microsoft (which according to StatCounter…they do), could you email me and we can have a chat. 

Exactly.  I thank you for your support.  They don’t call me “Sy McMightilyImpressive” for nothing you know!

OK, so he can squirt water which he has sucked up through his nose.  Whoopeee Doodeee.  Every single day of my life, I take it a step further.  I suck the water in to my mouth, swallow it, let it pass through this miracle that is the temple known as my body (except when I say temple, I mean fat creating factory) and then using something that has a mind of it’s own, I release the water.  OK, so I don’t maybe have the same control as Mr TearDuct does, but I will have you know…when I am standing in front of the urinal at work, I can always aim at the words on it and hit them every single time.  This is of course in stark contrast to when I am standing in front of the toilet at home, and then it all goes to hell.  And often gets a lot worse when the cat has followed me in to the toilet. 

I dont know how many times I have used the phrase “Dont lick yourself clean there little pussycat…  I will get you a towel.”  The poor thing.  But does it learn?  Nope.  I dont know how many times I have seen the little kitty lick itself because it is wet and then pulls a face of “What the…that is…oh good God no…that’s…” and then a hairball and a little bit of sick hits the deck, and the cat goes on a long walk while she decides if life is worth living after what she just tasted.

I should also note that in the story, it says that he can shoot the water 10ft from his eyes. 

My male readers will understand this one…ever tried taking a pee after sex?  10ft?  And then some my friends.  I regularly have to wash the ceiling at home, and that of my neighbours, but hey, if they cant close their bathroom window, it is barely my fault is it?!

So there you have it.  I am way more impressive with my bodily functions then a man who cries too much.  Where is MY news story?  Yeah I know.  A man cries, he gets press pages.  I pee and suddenly the credit crunch is more important.  Screw em all.

 

In other news, if anyone likes this or any previous posts, could you hit the Digg or Stumble or other buttons for me?  Thanks!

It’s tag time, and apparently, I am “it”.  So I shall do my wordly duties as passed on by Georgie B and complete said tag!

Now.  According to Georgie, I should:

1. Link to the person who tagged you.  DONE!
2. Post the rules on the blog.  Ummm…I think I am DONE!
3. Write six random bookish things about yourself.  DONE!
4. Tag sixish people at the end of your post.  Done…with a twist.
5. Let each person know he or she has been tagged.  Oh look…the moon is out!
6. Let the tagger know when your entry is up.   Hmmm…I guess I can do that!

I am fine with 1, 2, 4, 5 and 6.  But 3 is a little harder due to me not really reading books.  I considered talking about random fruits instead, but that is against the rules.  So I will give it a go. 

So here we go.  6 random bookish things about me:

1 – It drives me mad how many books my wife has.  She has more books than the rain forest has trees.  Our house does not have foundations made of concrete, steel or cotton wool like normal buildings.  Instead, my wife and her book collection hold the place together.  It is that bad that just 3 days ago, the roof in the kitchen started to collapse because she wanted to read “The con artists guide to winning a game of skittles”.  Apparently it is about how one woman’s journey from high profile business woman to crazy cat lady took shape over a short time due to the 9:14am train being late.  I mean really…how the hell do some people get published?

2 – I only read books by 2 authors.  Dan Brown because I like his style of writing, and Jeremy Clarkson…because…erm…I like his style of writing.  Actually, for anyone that enjoys the drivel I write in the name of humour, I recommend reading Clarksons stuff. 

3 – I have not been to a library since I was 12….and only went to that one because the toilets in the local pub I was passing were out of order when I desperately needed to empty my bladder.  While in there, I went on a wondrous journey of filling myself with knowledge and pride at being able to increase my station.  I am of course talking about the pub, and not the library.  Pork scratching?  Why did no one tell me of such pleasure before? 

4 – I get bored reading 3 pages in a row in a book, but can live forever reading articles on the world wide whooblywotsit.  Why?  What is the difference?  I don’t know.  But I would rather sit up in bed slowly roasting my testicles with the battery of my laptop than sit up reading a book.  But I would read the electronic copy of the book no problem!  Maybe it is the fresh cooked smell of my nuts on the battery?

5 – I am afraid that my wife will one day read the book that I am writing and tell me that the book about the woman turning in to a crazy cat lady is better.  Rejection is hard enough, but being beaten by a book by someone who should really be a saying “reverse. reverse. reverse. stop.” and then moving on to the next car waiting to park is a little more than I can live with.

6 – Are you willing to buy my book when I have finished it?  I wont tell you what it is about.  Nor will I tell you how many pages.  Or indeed the title of the book.  But honestly…will you buy it or not???  Come on…make a commitment here!

So there you have it.  6 bookish things about me.  Now, if someone could tag me saying “List 100 reasons why beer is better than eating chihuahua poo”, I can really get in to it!

I am supposed to tag people.  Well, that seems unfair on the ones I don’t tag, so you are all it.  The first person to finish it gets bragging rights about being the first to finish it.

Good evening trusty readers, visitors and people who come here looking for “Smurfette Costumes”.  Smurfette Costumes?  You may be wondering.  Well, for some reason google is showing me a lot of hits for people looking for said costume.  And now I have to wonder.  Why are you looking for a smurfette costume?  And if you find yourself one, are you willing to send in a photo of you in it?  And can you hold up a sign saying “Sy, you are soooooo dreamy”?  because you know…it has kind of been a dream I had years ago and still have it.  Don’t tell my wife that though, because she thinks I ask her to dress up as Smurfette or Dopey the dwarf as something special for “us”, and not some sordid dream I had since I first woke up and thought “Huh…what happened to the bed sheets?  I still need to pee, so it cant of been….ohhhhh….riiiiiight.  So I reached that stage then!” and spent the next several (read “since then”) years humping the arm of the chair for complete random reasons.

But I fear that my request for the photo will fall on deaf ears.  So how about I say “If you show me yours, I will show you mine!”.

No?

You are no fun.  I would do it for you!  Actually, has anyone got a photo of themselves in a silly costume that I can put on the net for all to laugh at look at with deep curiosity and wonder how the party went?

Anyway, I was about to say something.  Oh yeah.

I have always had complete confidence in the health service in the UK.  Ever since I was 12 and broke my knee cap in half which resulted in my first sexual experience whereas on the operating table, a nurse put her hand under the sheet to hold mine…but mine was by little Sy, and I moved my hand, and she grabbed a  handful (she had small hands).  I proposed to her later that night, but then retracted it when I saw how old she was and blamed it on the drugs and being 12.  But they put my knee right.  After all, they knew what they were doing.

Unlike some doctors.

Well, one doctor.

I went to get my child stabbed with a couple of needles last week.  While doing it, said Dr blokey had a good look about young Shawnee and decided that she is as fit as a fiddle.  Unlike her father who really needs to sort his mental and physical issues out.  Did you know that if you put on enough weight, even your brain gets fat?  Well, I cant say that conclusively, but my head feels kinda heavy, and when my wife walks out of the room, my head automatically drops to one side as I watch her walk away.  Not sure what that is about to be honest, but this doc dude sat and asked if we had any questions.  Which I did.

“So why do you measure her head?” I asked with absolute curiosity as he had measured it and then said “Yup, that is fine!”. 

“I have no idea, they ask us to do it.” he replied. 

Hang on.  He said “yup, that’s fine”.  So it is fine, or does my daughter have a comically large head which he thinks is fine should she decide to join the travelling circus?  So my wife asked the health visitor.  Who dodged the question completely. 

People, I think I have uncovered a conspiracy.  One where they also put weird things in to medicines to maybe control us.  I say this because of my second question I asked.  My wife has decided to start chomping down on the contraceptive pill.  The doctor asked:

“Are you breastfeeding?” to which my wife, milk spurting everywhere and me bearing a milk moustach, replied “Yup.” and got a mop for the floor.

“OK, we cant give you the normal pill as the breastfeeding releases estrogen so we give you this pill”. and proceeded to mention that breastfeeding can stop you getting pregnant.  I am assuming this is because when you are breastfeeding, there is no chance of me hopping on top as I might squash the baby?  But regardless, I asked him why it does.

“I have no idea.  It just does” was his reply.  Scarily the same as the first answer.

But as part of my investigation in to the medicines controlling us, I have got proof that they are controlling us with them.  My evidence?  Well………

Picture the scene.  I am sitting up in bed.  My wife is to my right also sitting up and Shawnee is laying in her shoebox (don’t panic, I removed the silica gel sachets so it is safe) to the right of my wife.  So in front of us is nothing apart from the rest of the room.  And then it happened.

Swinging her head to the left, my wife sneezed right at me.  There was stringy weird globules of stuff hanging off of me.  I asked the obvious question:

“What the HELL!”

Her reply?  “Well, I didn’t want to sneeze on Shawnee”.  Who as you saw, is laying to her right.  Not straight ahead.  I am convinced that someone was watching on a secret camera on the website www.WatchSyInBed-HeIsHot.com/hardcore and they made her do it.

Dont trust anyone people.  Foil hats at the ready…and remember.  Send me all your money.   I am your only hope, but can only help you if I am rich.