I’ve a gun trained on you and I’ll shoot you at the double,

Don’t make a fucking sound or dare to look around,

They won’t be there to save you when you’re lying on the ground.

Hello Mr Tombstone, please you can’t shoot me here,

I have got a wife and a son and I hold them both so dear,

I need to say bye if today I am to die,

There’s so much I’ve yet to do I have let life pass me by.

Hello Mr Tombstone, I know your wife and son,

Maybe after you are dead we can have a little fun,

Your wife’s face is a mess, bloody tears on her dress,

As for your son, oh never mind do go on I digress.

Hello Mr Tombstone, don’t you dare touch a hair on their heads,

Mr Tombstone, you’re in no position to be making threats,

Now I’ll let you go if you say the magic word,

The magic word is ‘peacock’? Don’t be so absurd.

Your time is up dear Tombstone,  give it up it’s time to die,

Please don’t kill me, please_

I’ll be sending your family to see you soon.

No…please…I’ll…

Another reason I couldn’t really get involved with this film was that the aliens had some fucking good points. Basically they were offering us a world with no rape, no war and no violence toward your fellow man. Fuck it, spit in my mouth, turn out the lights and I’ll see you in the morning for pancakes and light monotonous conversation. Basically the only bad thing about these aliens is that they were going to kill off anyone immune to the virus they spread to make us aliens. That’s a bit mean but otherwise sign me the fuck up.

I never really got the problem with The Matrix either though, although granted I never saw the third film (the second one was bad enough so I couldn’t stomach another one. Although I enjoyed the second one in an unintended way because there was this bloke next to me explaining the whole film to his mate, not only The Matrix 2 but The Matrix in general. It appears that not only had he never seen a Matrix film but he seemed to have missed the entire media hype surrounding how ‘great’ this radical new event in film we were witnessing was. And am I the only one in the world who thought The Matrix is a load of pretentious over-hyped twaddle. Bullet time? I don’t need bullet time. I like to see bullets go the speed of fucking bullets, bang – chest splat – “I love you” – dead. Done. Or maybe his mate had been in a coma, or was retarded. Anyway I’d never been so happy to be sitting next to some arrogant loudmouth in all my life) so I may be missing something but what was so bad about what they were doing in The Matrix?

Ignorance is bliss. So what if we were being grown in battery farms and harnessed for energy, if you don’t know it’s happening then what’s the problem. They created a copy of our world, which was nice, so as long as we’ve got Championship Manager and blow jobs and Angel Slices then who gives a fuck? I’ll be taking the blue pill (that was the go home one yes?) please.

So anyway, we were pretty close to the Superdrug that I didn’t like to use. And I said “I need to go to Superdrug.” ‘Marvelous,’ she must have thought, ‘for there is one not fifty feet away.’ Well it wasn’t that easy. It wasn’t MY Superdrug and I told her that as such I was going to go to the other one. Well she, quite rightly, wasn’t having any of it. We were near to a Superdrug, I needed a Superdrug, and she put her foot down and told me not to be so silly. And after arguing my case for a while I caved and ventured into the unfamiliar that was the other Superdrug. Anyway the other Superdrug was fine when I got used to it and it has since become my new Superdrug, and now I never go to the other one. But I’m older and hopefully less weird now so if the situation arises again next time I’m going out with someone then I will just go to which ever one is closest. Life is just too damn short.

It’s weird when you lose someone and you think back to all those stupid arguments you had. At the time you feel justified and that the other person is being unreasonable in not accepting your way of thinking but at the end of the day it was just a fucking Superdrug. I was out in town with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met and I was arguing the toss about buying hair gel, or whatever it was, from an unfamiliar cosmetics shop, even though it was essentially the same fucking cosmetics shop. You can have all the happy memories in the world with someone but it’s these stupid moments that stick with you when they’ve gone. If I had her back for an hour I’d spend the first minute or so apologising for all these ridiculous arguments that were caused purely by me being such an awkward sod.

1. People who write for television are very boring.

2. An hour of them talking is very boring.

I’m sure if you’re planning on writing for television then this programme would have been very useful, with the bloke who writes The IT Crowd, the blokes who write Peep Show and others giving an insight into how they write for television, how they got started etc.

Me, I watch Screenwipe to see some sarcastic twat shouting at the telly. What next, a Harry Hill’s TV Burp special without the FIGHT!, bakey beans and chippy chips in favour of sit down interviews with fellow comedians about how great it is to be paid to be a comedian?

Although I don’t plan to write for television the process they described was quite similar to when I wrote my book. I guess the main difference is that when you write for television if you don’t sell it no one gets to see it so you have to put more effort into it. Me, I was just happy to just share my book with people and hear what they thought. The idea of making money for it didn’t enter my mind. Unless they too just do it for shits and giggles and they happened to get very lucky but didn’t want to admit that in the interviews. The main difference between them and me is the amount of drafts they were talking about. I did re-read my book a few times and added new jokes, cleaned up sections of dialogue and scrapped whole sections that were, in hindsight, completely shit. But the thing I was working with essentially my first draft, just with a few small changes. Although one of the Peep Show guys did mention that he didn’t know what constitutes calling something a new draft so I guess if everyone was as unclear then it’s hard to tell how many drafts they all wrote of anything.

I mean there was some good advice for aspiring writers out there, one of the guys just said ‘write’. Simple but very effective advice. If you’re sitting there and you don’t tend to write a lot and you’ve just sent a script off then I wouldn’t expect to hear anything back. You can’t just write when it matters because you’ll be out of practice. Start a shit blog that no one reads, writes poems on the bus, post amusing comments on Youtube videos, whatever.

I was relieved how many of them went days without writing something they were working on and were as prone to procrastination as me. Although I did have a tendency to sit in front of a blank screen and shout at myself “write something you cunt,” which is apparently a no no.

Ultimately they write for a living because they want it more. I hardly write anything nowadays apart from a few songs now and then, simply because being paid to do something creative is not high on my priorities in life. I’m one of those guys who is happy to have normal job and do creative stuff as a hobby. Lucky that or I’d be quite disappointed.

Oh and kids, stop advertising your parties on Facebook. You muppets.

“Why Dani Behr Sleep In The Bus?”

“Me not know, why Dani Behr Sleep In The Bus?”

I have a small supporting gig coming up in December. It’s quite daunting. I have played live a total of once - a small gig for charity which was quite well received. We definitely performed better than we were expecting to. This time the spot is smaller, last time we were THE band where as this time we’re the band no one cares about whose job is to try, possibly in vain, to get the crowd pumped before the band they want to see comes on. However this gig is not for charity, it is for real money that will be going into our pocket. Of course I’ll probably end up with about £10 if I’m lucky, it’s not supporting Oasis at Wembley or anything but it’s a little daunting because people are paying for the sole purpose of being entertained. There will be no ‘they were crap but at least it was for charity’ if we suck. It will be a bored crowd bemoaning that fact they paid to see this rubbish and the main band will have to work extra hard to get them back onside. Still I only really started the whole playing music thing for a bit of fun so I’m not putting too much pressure on myself. When I need to I am capable of putting in the extra bit of effort so I think I will do okay.

It’s amazing to me how some people just never seem to know their place in life. Point in case – Emile Heskey. He first showed his promise as a striker with Leicester City. A small team in which he was a very big fish. And like other big fish he grew too big for his tank and went off to Liverpool, where he was exposed as an out of his depth striker who, well, just wasn’t that good. He’s prone to laziness and big time mistakes at the highest level so he should be glad that he has picked up his form again at lowly Wigan. But is he happy? Is he bugger. He has rejected their offer of a new contract and will probably end up at one of the big 7-8 teams in the Premiership, I’m thinking more UEFA Cup than Champion’s League, but does he really want to go through all that again. A few games without scoring and he becomes £4 million wasted, the taunts start and it won’t be long before he loses all confidence and he’s back where he belongs, a good goal scorer who helps boost a small team.

Britney Spears mimed on the X Factor. Apparently the reason was that she struggles with singing and dancing at the same time. Isn’t that kind of her job, one that she’s been doing for quite a while?

John fucking Cena, one minute he’s playing up to the crowd in a desperate attempt to curry favour and stop the endless boos, the next he’s laying some smackdown like a piss poor The Rock or Stone Cold. You know what Mr Cena? (no not that first nameless Mr Cena) You’re not The Rock, you’re not Stone Cold. You’re not even likeable. The crowd are desperate to get behind Chris Jericho and hate John Cena. That’s why WWE have to resort to Chris Jericho insulting them and John Cena sticking up for them. After John Cena’s over the top attack it would be perfect for John Cena to come out next week and tell the crowd to go fuck themselves and use the violence of the attack to get some sympathy for Y2J. This could be the best double turn since Stone Cold Steve Austin and Bret Hart. Well okay maybe not, I’m just desperate for John Cena to get some kind of edge.

Speaking of whom, he hasn’t been in Hell at all, he’s just spent the last few months sleeping in his car eating Wotsits judging by that beard and gut. Still it was nice to see Triple H lose his title, even if this probably means he’ll win the Royal Rumble, starting at number 1 and eating a sandwich at the same time. And then cut 2 months of coma inducing promos before getting it back at Wrestlemania beating both The Undertaker and Edge with one arm tied behind his back and blindfolded. God it’s great to shag the bosses daughter. I need to find out who the boss is here and fuck his daughter so I can start pinning people at work. Unless she’s like 13 then the only one getting pinned will be me, against a shower wall.

And thank you Charlie Brooker for being funny again. A welcome return to form on Tuesday’s Screenwipe. It’s pretty easy to attack the advertising industry but his ’10 biggest cocks in advertising’ is by far the funniest thing on television. I have also been loving The Big Bang Theory and The IT Crowd. Maybe I just like comedies about nerds, who knows.

My colleague just asked me what I think the next James Bond film should be called. I suggested ‘James Bond Dies Of AIDS So I Never Have To Watch Another Shitty James Bond Film Ever Again And The Last One I Do Have To See I Get To Watch Him Suffer A Depressing Slow Painful Death.’

I wonder why my colleagues don’t talk to me more often.

And that’s when the shouting started. Shouting not only about about me being too careful with my printer paper but other things that annoyed us about the other as well. And that is my first theory about how people can have such silly arguments about such small things. It is an opportunity for one to air past grievances and once the gate is open the sheep just keep piling out. Like in Big Brother one year when that big titted racist used the black one drinking all the cider as a way in to mock her weave, her culture and her stench. Another example, a young couple getting on okay, the wife’s past discretion at the Christmas party being locked away in the vault of the past.

“You didn’t take the bin out like I asked.”

“Yeah well how did his fucking spunk taste, you cum guzzling whore!”

Another theory is that we are just too damn content in our lives. It is human nature to create problems for ourselves if none exist. Possibly this is because the human mind has evolved to such great logic problem solving ability that if you don’t have to worry about having drinking water, being sheltered, having plenty of food and being protected by or having no natural predators then your mind starts to feel pretty useless. So you start to worry about the little things. Like printer paper. Not the most expensive thing in the world so why make such a big deal about someone writing on it rather than using the pile of paper provided for scrap purposes. I’ll tell you why, because I wasn’t thirsty, or hungry, there were no sabre toothed tigers outside to fend off and the rain wasn’t getting us because of our handy roof. If there was a tiger outside then the paper would have been the last thing on my mind.

I could just imagine me trying to explain how serious this problem was to a poor orphan boy in Nigeria.

“Well I have only one small bowl of rice to eat a day, the only water available has 6 different things in it that can kill me. And I have AIDS, which killed both my parents.”

“Yeah but it was PRINTER paper, and there was scrap paper RIGHT THERE.”

Anyway me and my sister love each other very much, we’re okay now and I’m pretty sure this won’t be the last ridiculous argument we have about absolutely nothing.

So what’s the smallest thing you’ve ever had an argument about?

That’s right, I went there. I’ll see you in Hell.

Good old I’m A Celebrity Get Me out Of Here, they really know how to create tension. Bring in two new celebs, the existing hungry celebs refuse to pay a ransom, the pissed off new celebs come to camp and then two celebs have to sleep in a cave. Good stuff. The only thing that surprised me this year was the lack of young free and single celebs. No romance angle this year. Unless they were hoping for some of the ‘we shouldn’t be doing this’ from last year but if they wanted Blondie big boobs, Mrs Joe Cole or Dani Behr? Really? Dani Behr? to do the dirty then they should have probably put someone more enticing than Mickey from Eastenders. Is Simon Webbe single? Maybe they were hoping that he’d be in there, he’s hardly a famous love rat though is he? I don’t know I digest and instantly forget the Sunday news. I’ve never shagged him anyway…or have I?

How good was it seeing John Morrison super-kick Shawn Michaels last night on Raw? I’m sure HBK will get him back 10 fold (that’s what they do) but for that moment you almost believed that WWE cared about planning for the future. Now all Morrison has to do is throw The Miz through a glass window and carry the company on his talented, hilarious back.

A fresh batch of WWE releases this month, some understandable, some boggle the mind.

Super Crazy – a good enhancement talent for new heels to go over. Apparently this one isn’t WWE’s fault as he wasn’t happy about being a jobber and wanted to leave. He seemed to think he was good enough to be at least a mid carder. The crowd disagreed it seemed, as every time he was on you could hear toilets flushing in the arena.

Paul London – a fantastic wrestling talent, as his work in Ring Of Honour showed. The fact is he was lost by himself without the cruiser-weight title and his backstage attitude, coupled with a lack of faith from management meant he was always going to be Marty Jannety to Brian Kendrick’s Shawn Michaels.

Chuck Palumbo – there are only so many failed gimmicks a guy can have before creative stop trying. So far he’s been a big angry guy who likes fighting, a homoerotic but not all the way gay man, an Italian mobster a guy who makes motor bikes and then an extended version where he looked like a poor man’s American bad ass. I thought he did pretty well on Smackdown until he spoke, and cut that pulling teeth promo about turning his back on Michelle McCool.

Kenny Dykstra – a ton of potential, a ton of talent. He’s 22. He was a bit of a jerk backstage but then all the greats are. They should have seen this as a good sign. Besides which, whenever I hear of someone being a jerk backstage I always assume this means ‘refuses to kiss Triple H’s arse’. Which may explain why his last weeks with the company mostly involved being pedigreed by Triple H himself.

Then there’s Elijah Burke, for months he was kept of television because creative ‘had nothing for him’. Hang on, isn’t that, like, your fucking jobs or something? He was a great striker, great on the mic and his sometimes sloppy ring work was improving as well. You don’t need that much creativity to sell an arrogant boxer who thinks he’s better than everyone else. He pretty much sells himself.

Lena Yada and Armando Estrada did fuck all anyway so good riddance.

And that’s the problem. Everyone watches stuff they hate on television so they can moan about it and make sarcastic comments. Click on the link on my blogroll called Watch With Mothers and you will find a whole blog about crap television and people using sarcastic, cynical humour to make fun of it. Funny articles about television programmes, responded to by funny comments about the funny articles. People made fun out of crap telly before Brooker did and they will do it after he is dead. So if he is going to continue with this line of work he really should step his game up to justify being one of only a few people who get paid to do it.

Point in case – Britannia High. A singing and dancing show which is basically our response to High School Musical. Target audience – female, aged 7-15. Brooker – a sarcastic, cynical 38 year old male didn’t like it much. I’m shocked. The fact is Harry Hill’s TV Burp is funnier without even trying that hard, and Brooker’s arrogant ‘I’m better than everyone’ stance mixed with his self effacing ‘I’m just a sad wanker shouting at the telly’ thing isn’t that funny anymore. At least there was no Aisleyne from Big Brother though. Maybe he lost her in a poker game in Las Vegas. We can only hope.

At the start of I’m A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here I picked Esther Rantzen to win. I’m sticking with her after last night’s offering. Some people were saying Martina Navratilova but she’s been too quiet and arrogant to win I think. The only time she speaks is to say she’s the greatest tennis player who ever lived, then goes back to sleep. It’s like when you have an aunt round and she drinks too much wine and falls asleep on the sofa, waking up to fart and say something nonsensical before the snoring starts yet again.

I really felt for Esther last night as well. I know how it feels to lose the person you consider to be your soulmate. And then to have people talking about how blissfully happy and in love they are before one of them notices you’re there and gives the other ‘the elbow’. That being the ‘hey listen to us going on when he’s lost someone he loved’ elbow. The thing is I love to hear about people being happy in love, it actually gives me hope for the future, hope that one day I’ll meet someone who makes me feel like she did. So you needn’t feel like an insensitive jerk because we all know that life is just a random series of events and it’s pure luck or bad luck for the most part, so it could just have easily been you in this position.

Speaking of Mrs Joe Cole. Is it just me are her eyes growing further apart each day? She reminds me of the Family Guy sketch where Peter had a job where he pushed Uma Thurman’s eyes back together.

I’m A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here makes its long anticipated *ahem* return and a stellar line up has been produced yet again. Who could have lived without ‘whatsis face’ and ‘who’sshe shagging’ eating beetles for the amusement of bored mums everywhere? Not me that’s for sure. As usual the first episode included far too much z-listers jumping out of a plane and pretending to be scared because nothing interesting happens on the first day, in anything, ever.

And as usual Ant and Dec are the best thing about the show, they annoy some people and I can’t watch them in anything else without wishing them great pain but their light entertainment stylings are perfect for this show. The best thing is that they have as much disdain for the programme as the viewer, and are watching it as bored mates making jokes waiting for something to happen. Highlights last night include Ant running down the whole of Home and Away in a minute and making Dec jump with a klaxon while he tried to talk.

Speaking of klaxons Mickey from Eastenders has obviously been talking to his old mate Dean Gaffney about how to monopolise screen time on this show, that being scream like a girl so you keep getting picked for bushtucker trials. Robert Kilroy-Silk has also been planning his appearance far too much. Reasoning that being as unpleasant as possible will keep him on the screen and therefore in the show for as long as possible. A classic moment when he goes to Mrs Joe Cole “You’re a control freak aren’t you?” Nice to meet you too chief.

Ah Mrs Joe Cole, who needs brains when you look like that, eh? Her highlight yesterday was definitely when the celebishes were split into two teams. Quite simple – if you arrived by boat stand over there, if you arrived by the other way, I forget, bus? coach? camel?, you stand over there. Then came a confused Mrs Joe Cole trying to remember firstly how she arrived (first hint, love, were you surrounded by water, any distinct recollection of there being some kind of boat?) and then where she had to stand.

Blondie big boobs is hoping that the same good things come here as those that came to the other waterfall shower whore. The problem is that Blondie big boobs has appeared on television before as the most annoying WAG the world has ever produced. Apparently she can’t phone a Chinese take away by herself. I’d let the bitch starve myself and have one last go with her skinny corpse before finding someone else. On comparison the other waterfall shower whore is a classically trained musician who was quite an enjoyable television personality before she started loving herself as much as the public and became insufferable.

Memo to British newspapers the Baby P incident was shocking and very distressing but featuring the story everyday with new little bits of information very similar to the old bits of information to sell more papers is downright exploitative. Let it lie and leave Baby P to rest in peace now, yeah.

Bees are flying insects closely related to wasps and ants. Bees are a monopholetic lineage within the superfamily Apoida, presently classified by the unranked taxon name Anthoplia. There are nearly 20,000 known species of bee, in nine recognized families, though many are undescribed and the actual number is probably higher. They are found on every continent except Antarctica, in every habitat on the planet that contains insect-pollinated flowering plants.