This is a famous quote from the 1987 horror flick “Evil Dead 2” that repeatedly rapes my brain bare back to punish my insomniac methods of writing. After a drastically epic sleep deprived night, I find myself starring at the box of lies, fear and abandonment or popularly known as TV, seeming to perfectly mimic the characteristics of a zombie, very sleep deprived zombie at that. I watch people’s rotten mouths moving but hear no words, because I notice my brain is a far more tastefully adequate entertainment. I have realised TV shows are actually extremely similar to films, books and poems that we have already been educated in. For example, the TV show ‘I’m A Celebrity’ depicts shockingly similar codes and conventions to the highly controversial 1980 “Cannibal Holocaust”. Of course one of the biggest similarities is people trying to upgrade their profile of fame so desperately that they would eat a tramps for-skin if it meant having a little snap shot in HELLO magazine. Similarly Dog the bounty hunter and “The Hills Have Eyes” are comparable. A bunch of evolutionary deprived Hill-Billy’s chasing around families with minor criminal records and putting them in the back of their truck. God knows what happens when the cameras are turned off….yep…. that’s right, all that’s going through your head right now is a faint, distant but Erie sound of the classic duelling banjo riff featured in the film ‘Deliverance’.


Dog the bounty hunter:

‘You ready Tucker?’


Tucker, the camera man:

‘He sure got a pretty mouth….’


Anyway, stop masturbating to my blog and get back to reading with intellect. Another show, is the disastrously humours TV show “Most Haunted” and its uncanny similarities to Scooby Doo, mixed with an amateur remake of Paranormal Activity. Despite the fact that the strangely optimistically attractive Yvette Fielding admitted to not believing in the paranormal, the show is outstandingly pissing off a lot of people’s intelligence, to the point that it should be banned from TV. The whole 45 minutes of the gutter drivel is based around grown men and women playing “let’s find the ghosts”. Now, I don’t actually have a big problem with the program at all I just think it should be nominated in the comedy awards not the BAFTAS. I mean, when the West Country medium (whose face has the exact same features as a boiled egg) pretends to be possessed by ghosts or goes into battle with them, it’s belly penetrating, award worthy comedy gold. Once you watch it you will immediately realise that nothing is funnier than a grown man playing a kids game with pure passion. Whilst Yvette (who’s picture belongs in every geeks bedside draw along with their tissues and baby oil) is shouting at the “ghosts” in the room, demanding them to come forth, I can’t help but to feel sorry for the (cough) ghosts. If there were actual spirits in the room, leave them alone! They’re probably having a wail of a time haunting the building, hanging out with all their old mates from the sex offender hospital wards. Why disturb them by dominatingly shouting at them? You don’t know what it’s like being dead for years it must get utterly boring; haunting people is like playing scrabble or table tennis for the dead. Respect your elders Yvette, especially the dead ones. Conveniently the ghosts follow the same structures as a classic horror movie by chillingly whispering back to Yvette the stock replies “Help”, “leave” or “what”.  If I were a ghost being woken up by the sound of Yvette’s Fielding’s screaming school teacher voice, I would simply reply by slowly whispering “fuck off”. There! Have that for a replay to your audience. Over all, I think it’s fair to say that Most Haunted is about as scientifically correct and factual as Tom and Jerry

Today, I read a Yahoo blog, in the finance department, explaining an unspecified statistic that “People Would Rather Imagine a Zombie Apocalypse Than Their Future: Rushkoff”. Now, as I started half heartedly reading this blog in slight bewilderment, I must have subconsciously realised that this blogger was talking complete and utter class “A” bullshit. As my self, I am a highly qualified “Shit chatter” but I always find myself believing I have a point to what I’m saying. Where as this person was literally….talking bollocks. So really, instead of having an intellectual morning read, I found myself fantasising about a zombie apocalypse and how I would imagine myself reacting. Of course I would be a heroic, outstandingly good looking savour to the rest of the nation, just like everyone else imagines themselves to be in the common “Zombie apocalypse day dream”. But in reality, if the deadly, fictional virus Solanum did break out, I’d probably be caught wanking in my room by zombies and viciously eaten alive in the first 5 minutes screaming “Wait! Let me finish!” but what I really did find myself fantasising about is how the Virus would start. And I went for the ancient voodoo beliefs. Zombies have of course been scaring the shit out of us for years before voodoo, like this segment of an ancient Greek poem “Epic of Gilgamesh

“I will knock down the Gates of the Netherworld,

 I will smash the door posts, and leave the doors flat down,

 and will let the dead go up to eat the living!

 And the dead will outnumber the living!”


….alright love, don’t cry. Pretty sure she’s the one who needs the wank! Anyway, I decided that the 3rd antichrist created the apocalypse by raising all the paedophiles and rapists from the dead to eat us all alive, especially the children. And that Antichrist is of course Jeremy Kyle. The epitome of evil. It’s the only suggestion I have for such a vile person, he must be the 3rd Antichrist. And he’d probably still be screaming at the zombies and innocent people telling them how much of “low life scumbag” they are. So whilst the zombified corpse of Jimmy Savile is tucking into little Ant and Dec, Jeremy’s screaming at him telling him he isn’t doing it right and need’s to “get off his stage”. Of course this is all fiction, but I strongly believe I would much rather try and survive a apocalyptic battle with zombies then spend 5 minutes in a room with Jeremy Kyle, or as some high horse –  hypocritical mucus stains call him “Jezza”.  Jeremy Kyle runs a show that’s aim isn’t to help the guests on the show but to make the viewer feel more “superior” than the guests, only that it actually just makes the viewer a more small minded, week and stupefied person for just watching it. Now, these guests on Jeremy Kyles show, granted, haven’t had a very well educated life and don’t exactly go along with the normal look of life which makes them labelled, to the public as stupid. But the Production Company and Jeremy are very wise on which guests they pick to come onto the show. When celebrities go on to any form of TV show they are under a LOT of pressure, pressure that me or you wouldn’t wish for and haven’t yet tasted. But celebrities get somewhat used to the pressure quickly, these guests on Jeremy’s show are not celebrities and haven’t had any experience of the sort. Jeremy is supposedly trying to be helping these guests that are very easily manipulated on his show, but what he really does is just shout at them and tell them how much of an awful human being they are, whilst wonderful Jeremy has

an earpiece with a director telling him what to do and say.  Jeremy betrays his act of a role model and just makes himself look like more of a pathetic child than the actual guests who are supposed to be the ones being ridiculed. There’s another thing, the viewers genuinely laugh at it! It’s barbaric as far as I’m concerned. I personally will never have faith or befriend a bully and I don’t know why other people do. Well, I do, it makes themselves feel much better about themselves. But this is one of the main factors of the viewers that I don’t grasp is that they laugh at peoples “stupidity” and their genuine life problems, but they feel sorry for Watchdog victims…. What? “Don’t dig at watchdog viewers”? Um, I think I will thank you, the “victims” on watchdog are intimidating stupid! If you’re going to buy a used tampon from a car boot sale for 5p, you can’t really complain that you find out you have aids. Or, buying a teddy bear for your kid only just £1 in a bargain bin, which then rips apart in the space of 5 minutes. Why don’t you laugh at them? They’re the actual idiotic robots under very little pressure. Don’t you worry, I understand, it is much easier for you to laugh at Jeremy’s guests. Although I couldn’t bare to spend time in a room with such a venomous man such as “Jezza” I would like to give him a big does of his hideously vile medicine and shout at him until he personally feels like a caged circus act and then slowly lean over at him and quietly but patiently tell him he has to agree with me otherwise he is a very, very bad person.


So that’s all from me for this blog on my zombie apocalyptic Jeremy slating day. In the mean time, fuck you Jeremy Kyle viewers and have a snobbily good day.


Trains….why do they insist on the population to be filled with doubt over them? And why do they insist on being late? Why? This is a constant obstacle that frustrates me. But I do know that I chose to take a train, I chose to not drive or take the bus or even ride a bike to work so really, I have no legitimate reason to indeed “bitch” about the time of a train’s arrival. But as my train on the 18th April was half an hour late, I had no choice but to go into the grotty, piss stench – infused WH SMITH. As the magazine rack was nearly empty, bar a couple of fishing magazines and teenage masturbation mags, known as Nuts and Zoo, I picked up a magazine that I have never in my life desired to read. It was the venomous money thirsty magazine HELLO. I actually read it to see what kind of “news” one would be getting out of this drivel. So, Margaret Thatcher’s funeral is still raw in the news, the Boston bombing incident has still got people in reasonable shock – but I found the biggest, most exiting and hard wrenchingly real news story I have ever and will ever read.  A story that has got the nation stuck in a shock infested stand still…. Bradley and Suki took a trip to Paris. Yes, you saw that correctly. The Hangover star Bradley Cooper and the star of….wait, who-the-fuck-is Suki? And why does she have such a pretentiously sickening name? Last time I checked my brain, Suki is a language spoken by only 3500 people in Papua New Geinea. But I am wrong, she is one of the vast amount of girls who does anything to pout in front of a camera in order to get her pocket full of money to meet rich actors (who’s attribution to success is debatable) like Bradley Cooper. I had to look this 20 year old Suki up on the internet to find out who she actually is and it seems the most famous thing she has done is to be spotted in Paris with Bradley….oh wait, no that’s unfair of me, she also dated the egotistical talent-dried, Kooks front man Luke Pritchard. So basically, she dates mild celebrities to make her self famous….I mean; she’s definitely an inspiration to me, guys. So anyway, this is where the exiting bit happens! Get ready to be jarred and rocked to the core with shock after reading this.  After the vaguely announced couple decide to leave a picturesque, delightfully romantic restaurant, they decide to stop on a pavement (conveniently in view point, perfectly for the photographer “secretly following” them around) now as they stop on the pavement, a heatwave of sexual tension runs through their veins like a romantic heroin needle. As I raised my arm to wipe the sweat off my brow caused by ultimate suspense, I took a deep breath and a large gulp as I was about to read the climax of the story….”they later enjoyed a romantic meal before embarking on a moonlit walk, pausing on the pavement for a kiss”….woah, is everyone ok?  I know, it’s hard to swallow.  Why is the world such a cruel place, right?  There are 138 pages in HELLO magazine and 130 are about which celebrities have been knocked up….why would the readers crave to know that? Why would the celebrities want people to know that? So, asking these unanswered questions in my head I came to the conclusion that HELLO magazine is the money wanking bear trap for celebrities, and they absolutely love it, can’t get enough of it. I also saw in the bear trap a two page lay out of the Strictly Come Dancing “star” Vincent Simone and air hostess wife Susan Duddy posing with their son, showing off their £1million house. The article was them somewhat boasting to the bear trap about how “Very happy” they are on having another child coming….After reading that article; I brought the magazine with pleasure and proceeded to wipe my ass with it.