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September 03, 2008


...whilst using this word - anyone that does should be feared accordingly.

Like people who choose paper in a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors. They chill me to the core. Out of a choice of three weapons - two of which being pretty lethal, there are sick fucks out there who'd happily take you on with a piece of paper.

Hey, don't get me wrong, I'm as scared of paper-cuts as the next man, but given the choice of being stabbed or stoved in, you can't deny that it's the lesser of the evils. Who came up with the scoring system for that game anyway? It was probably the same bloke who invented Tennis.

I mean, if you wrap a rock in paper, it's still a fucking rock, right? It's still going to fucking hurt. The entire paper aspect of the scenario won't really change the outcome. If there was a meteor the size of Jack Black's head hurtling towards earth, threatening complete annihilation, holding up your hymn sheet probably wouldn't be your most viable solution. No, you'd have to try and deflect it away with something equally as large and mishapen, like Ben Affleck's ego.

That man has got more forehead than face, it's like the ninth wonder of the world. Well, joint ninth anyway, with what bra size Simon's Cowell's trousers are.

Speaking of Mr. Cowell, there's one burning question that just eats away at my very soul everytime I see him. How can any self-respecting man sport a Flat Top? Answer that and you've probably discovered a strong metaphor for the meaning of life.