Race and Giggles

Thursday, September 21st, 2017

Mel Brooks is a Jewish American man who has written movies and stage plays. He is considered a comedy writer and has written some incredibly successful comedy things. 

One of his movies is named ‘Blazing Saddles’ and it is about an African American man in the Wild West era of America. This character is appointed sheriff of a town full of people who openly use the N-word to describe him. 

After doing a fantastic job of being a sheriff, he wins over the town and everybody ends up thinking he’s actually a great guy (for one of them). 

All the way through the film, racial slurs are bandied about with fascist abandon, and this contributes to what is considered the comedy in the narrative. 

As mentioned, the storyline is set in a time where slavery had not long been abolished in America, and black people had not long been allowed to ride horses. A practice that was previously illegal to them. Still they were not allowed to own land, or be in the same room as white people, and were generally considered subhuman. 

Mel Brooks could have told the true story of Bass Reeves, the black sheriff who lived in the nineteenth century, on whom The Lone Ranger was based (played by a white actor). But instead he made a comedy about racism, probably in an attempt to bridge the divide between black and white people and create unity through laughter at black people’s expense. 

Brooks has lamented recently that racism can’t be comedy any more because of political correctness. Apparently, it is no longer acceptable to laugh about a newly freed-from-slavery, marginalised people being marginalised by newly former-master-and-owner marginalisers. Political correctness gone mad. 

It seems that Mel has seen the error of his ways and stopped writing such nasty, divisive and controversial art. He said “It’s OK not to hurt the feelings of various tribes and groups. However, it’s not good for comedy.”  Also, Brooks has referred to political correctness as “the death of comedy.”

At one time, there was nothing Brooks wouldn’t joke about. He said “comedy has to walk the line, take risks.” When asked if there was anything he would not write comedy about, Mel exclaimed “I would never touch gas chambers or the death of children at the hands of Nazis. In no way is that useable or correct for comedy. Its just in truly bad taste. Everything else is ok.”

Well said, Mel. Never joke about an ethnic group who have been enslaved, murdered and who’s existence was made illegal. Never. There’s only one group of people that has ever happened to, obviously, so they must not be the butt of anyone’s jokes. But as you say, everything else is ok. 

Even if an ethnic group has been born the property of another ethnic group for four hundred years, only to be reluctantly set free, with another two hundred years of social barriers holding them back, just because of the colour of their skin, they’re still fine to joke about. Absolutely fair game. 

Shame really, as I had a good idea for a Rom-Com set in Dachau, starring David Schwimmer and Stacey Solomon.


Dessert Islands

Thursday, August 10th, 2017

For lunch today I want to eat something called street food. Before I knew what it was, I thought that street food referred to some sort of drug dealer dining in the ghetto. Unfortunately, it was something much more middle class. 

Street food originated in the far east, where people commuting to and from work and during lunchtimes could dine very cheaply outside in the warm. A side effect of this is that properties in this part of the world have extremely small or even no kitchens.

In England, street food has been embraced and I’ve been told it has brought the cool, cheap, convenient grub to my home. Even fast food chains and pubs offer street food even though they’re indoor dining places, where food is prepared and eaten inside, nowhere near a street.

So today, I walked out of my office, walked around some stalls and choose which one I liked the look of the most. There were benches everywhere for diners to sit on, there was the customary non-offensive, upbeat funk music being played with people dancing and singing along with tone deaf abandon in their respective queues. Dancing and singing. Sober. In public. There was a well to do young man wearing jogging bottoms, an ill fitting t-shirt and dirty trainers filming the surroundings on his phone. Spinning around slowly on the spot. Filming people eating. On his phone. Sober. In public.

I decided I liked the look of the Philly cheese steak sandwiches, so I stood in the queue for one. It was raining and cold, but there were four people ahead of me and the gentleman preparing the food was serving people in pairs, so this shouldn’t take too long. Unfortunately, when I got a bit closer, noticed that he was cooking the steaks to order instead of just making a big batch. Also, he was working on a hot plate that was one hundred millimetres in length and width. I waited for twenty minutes in the rain just to be served.

When I was finally handed my hot sandwich, I was asked for seven pounds. Seven English pound sterling. For a sandwich. In broad daylight.

This unfortunately dented the cheap, fast and convenient credentials that I was informed street food represented.

In England, people have huge kitchens with large islands in the middle of them, taking up masses of space on our small island, where we currently have a housing crisis. Many parts of the far east are over populated, so obviously there’s no room for big kitchens with large islands, so they’re forced to get their food from kitchens on the street. The good news is, they are quick, cheap and convenient.

It’s almost as if English people are happy wasting space at home and money outside. Imagine standing out in the rain instead of in your nice dry, massive kitchen. Homeless people live outside on the street, yet they can’t afford street food, and they have to sit there, drunk on the floor in the rain, watching everyone else smiling, eating, dancing and singing in queues. Sober. In public. 

Backbench to the Future

Thursday, May 11th, 2017

In June 2017, Great Britain will be having a general election. 

A general election is where members of the public take part in a queue (the nation’s favourite pastime), before making a mark on a peice of paper with a miniature bookmaker’s pen, to signify which person they want to rule the country. 

Ruling the country entails using all of the tax money collected from members of the public and allocating it to various means, determined by a budget plan. There’s also the issue of making laws for the public to follow. 

Over the past few years, the contest and then eventually, the job of ruling the country has been fought and won by men in their forties who all knew each other from school. A school called Eton.

Eventually, people grew tired of these men and decided that they’d been running the country like a business, with the general public as commodities. A new direction was sought. 

Thankfully, this new direction comes in the form of the leader of the Conservative party: Theresa May who is 60, and the leader of the Labour party: Jeremy Corbyn who is 67. There are no other candidates you choose from whatsoever. None.

In Britain, the current retirement age for women is 60 and for men it is 65. This means with all that spare time on their hands, both candidates are well placed to devote all of their time and energy into ruling the country. 

Both leaders have vowed to put forward progressive, futuristic manifestos. Corbyn is promising to nationalise and unionise everything, just like it was in the 1970s. Whereas May wants to murder animals for sport, eradicate immigration and get rid of the NHS, leaving the country much like it was in the 1950s.

So, in an age of the internet and smart phones, where everything you could possibly need to know is literally in your pocket and updating every single second, you’ve got two bygone decades to choose from. 

It doesn’t matter which one, between them and a monarchy from the middle ages, Britain can look forward, into the future, equipped with fresh ideas that nobody has ever seen before. 

Best Before 1954

Friday, May 5th, 2017

The United Kingdom of Great Britain has an unemployment rate of 4.7%, which represents 765.40 thousand people.

Unemployed people are people of working age who do not have a job, even though they’re able bodied and are not in education. These people normally rely on the state for an income.

Unemployed people cannot retire, or resign as they do not have an employer to retire or resign from.

The exception to this rule is a man named Philip Mountbatten, or as he’s better known by his stage name: Prince Philip.

Philip was in the armed forces for a time, but whilst there, he met an extremely wealthy young lady whom he decided he would marry, in order for him to become a kept man. He hasn’t done a day’s work since.

However, despite this, Philip has just announced this week that he is retiring.

On doing my research on this story, it became apparent that Philip has retired from ‘royal engagements’.

Curious, I decided to investigate further. What are royal engagements? Is he helping people propose to their spouses in a regal fashion?

It turns out that his job was effectively just milling about and meeting people. In doing so, he met many people from all over the world, and from all different ethnic and socio-economic backgrounds.

All that travelling gave Philip a worldly wit and intellect, that he took with him to all of his engagements. This enabled him to quip with commoner and aristocrat alike.

When visiting some British children in China, he said that if they stayed in the country too long, they’d go “slitty-eyed”, making use of his observations acquired whilst travelling in the far east.

In his adopted home of Scotland, he asked a driving instructor how he “kept the natives off the booze long enough to pass a test.” If Philip were not the Duke of Edinburgh, he’d never have such in-depth knowledge of the locals there.

Also in Edinburgh, he inspected a fuse box and said that it looked as if it was “put there by an Indian”. He must have inspected many fuse boxes in India whilst staying there, for him to know what that looks like.

Then there are the people of Papua New Guinea who worship Philip as a God. I’m not sure what experience he has in the field of being an omnipotent, celestial world creator, but he has been around the world a lot, so he must have learned somewhere.

So, it seems that royal engagements entail travelling, learning, talking, joking and being a deity. Now he’s retiring to enjoy more leisure time. Whatever that looks like, it must be phenomenal, as his ‘job’ looked very much like leisure to me.

When Philip turned 90, he told the BBC that it was better to get out “before you pass your sell by date”. I’m glad Philip eventually came round to that way of thinking, as I think there’s a chance that date may have long passed.

I wonder what he’ll get as a retirement present, maybe a watch and a vase like the rest of us? I do hope he’s got a good pension.

The Choice of a new Genderation

Wednesday, April 19th, 2017

Pepsi are back in the game!

After years in the cola wilderness, losing out to bitter rivals (and Monsanto bed mates), Coca-Cola. Pepsi have put together a TV commercial that will wrestle the carbonated, sugary, death-drink crown back in the more than century long rivalry.

As you can see in the above commercial, the bold Kylie Jenner is doing a photo shoot for some trans-mag, outside of a music festival.

Kylie then gets bored and decides to pop into the festival to have a look who’s playing, and motions to remove her wig…it looks as if Bruce is going to make a cameo, but no, she’s just bored of blonde and decides to go brunette into the crowd. Maybe it’s an attempt at going incognito.

The crowd seems to recognise Kylie nonetheless and let’s her advance to the front, so she can get in through the gates first. Everyone seems to be in high spirits, looking forward to the merriment that presumably lies beyond the manned fencing.

In front of said fencing stand some moody looking authority figures. They look absolutely parched.

Whilst en route through the large crowd, Kylie had been handed a can of Pepsi. In a selfless act of bravery, possibly more brave than the time she won an Olympic gold medal as a man, and then became a woman, she walks straight up to the man who looks the most thirsty (and as a result, grumpy), and hands him her Pepsi.

The bouncer then takes a sip, and everyone in the crowd starts dancing, even though there isn’t even a band on yet. This was a risky move. The bouncer could have been carrying a can of Dr Pepper spray.

What a heart warming show of kindness towards a stranger. 

For good reason, everybody seemed to love the advert. So many people loved it so much, that it even made the national news in the UK.

I’m assuming that it also must have made national news in other countries if it was so good. This meant that the advert didn’t actually need airing in the end, as it had already done its job. 

Well done Pepsi, I’ll definitely choose your cola from the fridges of corner shops in the future. All the sugar tax in the world can’t deter brave people from being kind to those in need.

Date Fight

Thursday, March 16th, 2017

The terrorist attack on the New York World Trade Centre on the 9th of September 2011 was a conspiracy. 

So, what happened was, America became fundamentally fed up with the rest of the world getting dates wrong and decided to offer the ultimate sacrifice: the lives of its own people. 

You see, for reasons known only to itself, America writes its dates in the format mm/dd/yyyy. Most other countries write theirs properly, in the format dd/mm/yyyy, as explained by this handy map below:

As you can see, America is on its own in its date formatting, making things extremely inconvenient for the people who work in office based jobs there.

As a result of this, the American government listened to its office workers and decided to take action.

How would America do this? It needed a huge branding exercise involving a number that everyone recognises and a date for it to conform to. However, this can’t just be a normal branding rollout, using commercials that cause people to change the channel and ignore. This needed the ultimate commercial, national news on every channel on the planet. The only thing that would achieve this is an act of war and a mass murder. 

Who would be the sacrificial lambs of this endeavour? Who will take the place of the messiah, Jesus and spill blood so that their countrymen would no longer have to decipher whether 12/01/2001 means the twelfth of January or the first of December?

Well of course, the office workers of America. They’re the ones who are so hell bent on not having to send extra emails to their international colleagues. They’ll have to take the hit. 

Nobody knew the time, place, or circumstances, just like the second coming of Christ. The time was the 11th of September 2001 (or as Americans call it, 9/11), and the place was the World Trade Centre. The biggest office space of them all.

When everyone in the world questioned the fact that the 9th of November 2001 was two months away, so could not have been the date of an event they’d watched on television that day, America said 9/11 means the 11th of September. Also, the number for the emergency services in America is 911, and the real heroes of that day were the emergency services, even though basic training dictates that service people should never run into a burning or collapsed building. 

So, thankfully, nobody will ever get confused about dates again now that America’s mass, global marketing campaign, and subsequent overthrowing of foreign governments in Arabic nations who can’t write numbers in the correct order, despite having invented the numerical characters used worldwide today.

God bless America. 


Thursday, February 16th, 2017

4.5 billion years ago, an entity known as the ‘Sun’ was born. 

Shortly after birth, it invented vitamin D. This vitamin went on to play a starring role in nourishing most living entities on a planet named ‘Earth’.

In 1914, vitamin D was harnessed in pill form known as a supplement, for humans to ingest in order to boost their health. This was invented by scientists.

Science was invented approximately 9000 years ago by humans.
Around 200 years ago, the common cold virus was invented by birds and passed onto humans. 

This week (February 2017), scientists have discovered that taking vitamin D could prevent humans from contracting the cold virus. 

Now I might not be the best person to challenge this theory, however, how has it taken a 9000 year old human endeavour 103 years to discover that a supplement of a 4.5 billion year old invention could prevent a 200 year old virus? I call their research into question. 

Either they are liars, or we don’t have the best people working in medical research. 

Look at the scientists who work for L’Oréal, Olay, Garnier and all of the other cosmetic brands. They’re coming up with new innovations on a monthly basis. 

Head and Shoulders abolished dandruff in the 1970s with their scientific formula. L’Oréal discovered Boswellox in the 1990s, which quickly transformed the likes of Joanna Lumley and Helen Mirren from elderly crows into the youthful sex sirens we know today, thanks to a crack team of scientists. Simple’s scientists discovered pro vitamin B5, bringing the greasy hair of the 20th century into the millennial GHB generation.

If these guys were working in medical science, they’d have found a cure for death by now, not faffing about with vitamins and viruses. They’d have cracked that safe a century ago. 

How much are these cosmetics scientists being paid compared to their medical counterparts?

Are the likes of L’Oréal and Garnier lurking outside the gates of the best science universities, waiting for the all the first class honours students in order to snap them up for their expertise, to innovate the newest breakthroughs in eradicating split ends?

Perhaps their giant financial packages are too much for the top scientists to turn down, leaving all the dregs of the PhD graduates to pick up whatever jobs are left, like trying to cure cancer and making the world a better place to live, using science. 

I get the feeling that the corporate world might be ruining humanity. I’m not sure why I’d think that though. 

Populism Contest

Tuesday, February 7th, 2017

The new ruler of the world is a 70 year old man with a ginger comb over named Donald Trump. 

He recently won a popularity contest by convincing people who had no money that he was one of them, even though he has more money than all of them combined. He also convinced them that his predecessors were all a corrupt establishment that he had nothing to do with, even though he personally financed all of their campaigns. 

He did this by standing on a surfboard and riding a wave named ‘populism’.

Populism is the art of supporting the concerns of ordinary people. 

It is a fantastic idea, because although ordinary people have awful educations, very few resources, issues with tribalism and violent territorial pride, politicians with access to information regarding how the world actually works should just do what the ordinary people tell them to do. A few deaths never hurt anyone.

Thankfully, a British man who used to be ordinary and worked his way up to extraordinary status, named John Bercow, who is in charge of a big house that ordinary people pay for, where politicians who’s wages are also paid for by ordinary people, has listened to the ordinary people of Britain and put his foot down. 

You see, the Queen of Britain, who is not an ordinary person, on account of falling from the vagina of some of the wealthiest land owners in the country, has invited ‘ordinary’ man: Donald Trump to open and close his mouth and make noises in the aforementioned house.
John Bercow, having listened to previous noises from Trump’s mouth that have admitted sexually assaulting women and hating brown people, has denied Trump access to his big house, even though the Queen invited him. Bercow has listened to the ordinary people of Britain who have said that Trump shouldn’t be allowed to say things in their country. 

However, another player in this game of populism is Theresa May. She was born an ordinary person and worked her way up to the job of British Prime Minister. She has very strategically aligned herself in this argument by ignoring the noises from Trump’s mouth, opening his back passage and climbing into it. She now lives between there and Downing Street. 

So now we have a stalemate in this argument. 

There are also another two players who also have keys to the big house where Trump isn’t allowed to speak: one is named Lord Fowler, who is the speaker at another big house and the other is named Lord Great Chamberlain, who has inherited the keys of the house from his extraordinary parents.

Unfortunately, these other two extraordinary men cannot do anything to usurp the populist decision made by the once ordinary man trying to appease ordinary people by using populism, in not allowing this pretend ordinary American to say populist things in the house of extraordinary people paid for by ordinary people, even though he was invited to do so by two extraordinary women.
Bercow has been accused of using populism to perform to an ordinary crowd. It is strange that Trump isn’t allowed to speak, when previous speakers have been leaders of countries who have murdered their own innocent countrymen for having opinions, and banned foreign websites just for having content on them. Basically the opposite of populism. 

I thought populism was supposed to favour the ordinary. 

Opposition leaders to the ruling party have welcomed John Bercow’s decision to ban an ally world leader from their house, even though they both harbour intentions of becoming the next Prime Minister themselves, and would be forced to work with Trump. 

Maybe they will ignore populism and murder anyone with an opinion. I don’t think I’ll be voting for them. 

Queue Tips

Sunday, January 15th, 2017

When the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland voted to leave the European Union in June, the main campaign rhetoric was to control the country’s borders. 

This means that everyone arriving into the UK’s airports, borders and beaches will have their passports checked, whilst being grilled about the length and purpose of their stay, then deported if they fail the skin complexion chart test.

While Brexiteers are over the moon with this development, there is also an extra added side effect which was not predicted in the run up to the referendum. 

It has now been noted by airport staff that there is not quite enough of them at airports to be able to process people in a timely manner, which will therefore lead to extra and longer queues. 

Queues were invented by the British during world war two, when Germany kept bombing UK cities and leaving the country with not enough food to go around. This caused British women to have to queue for rations, while the men did all the fun work of shooting foreigners. 
Now, the ration generation have managed to get their own back. For years they’ve complained about foreigners coming to Britain and queue jumping. Brits were told that it’s not the foreigners’ fault that they never learned the art of standing behind one person and in front of another person. It’s just not their culture. 

Good old Brexit will address this issue. If you want to come into Britain, you’ll have to learn to stand still, staring at the back of someone’s head for hours without saying a word.

Just standing there, stone faced, thinking things that you’re not allowed to say because it’s rude. The national anthem playing on a loop in your head, and a tear in your eye.

Five Alive

Tuesday, November 29th, 2016

The new five pound notes that were released earlier this year have caused am issue in the vegan community. 

Vegans are people who think that humans are herbivores, who should not eat or use animal products even though science has repeatedly proven otherwise.

They have become incensed by the fact that traces of something called tallow is present in the makeup of the new notes. 

Tallow is rendered from animal fat, so goes against vegan principles, as they tend to avoid anything containing any trace of animals…except for petrol, diesel, plastic and other fossil fuel derivatives. 

Vegans are petitioning to get the good old fashioned fivers back. Those notes were made from cotton and paper, so all we needed to do to make them was just destroy the natural habitats if animals to plant cotton, soak them in pesticides to kill any insects, and chop trees down, displacing birds and other creatures. That’s acceptable because that’s vegan.

Humans have been walking around with plant based currency denominations now for 200 years, so why only bring animals into the mix now?

In my day, you could go to the airport with your notes, get dragged into a room, strip searched and lose your rectal virginity, for a 7 year old trace of cocaine on your fiver, then released after you’ve missed your flight, safe in the knowledge that no animal was acknowledged to have been harmed in the making of your monies.

But now this. Five pound notes with a tiny trace of suet in them. Stop this world, I want to get off.