office plans, dares and general crap

The Plan

In the beginning there was the Plan.

And then came the Assumptions.

And the Assumptions were without form.

And darkness was upon the face of the Workers.

And they spoke among themselves, saying, "It is a crock of shit, and it stinketh."

And the workers went unto their Supervisors and said, "It is a pail of dung, and none may abide the odour thereof."

And the Supervisors went unto their Managers, saying, "It is a container of excrement, and it is very strong, such that none may abide by it."

And the Managers went unto their Directors, saying, "It is a vessel of fertiliser, and none may abide its strength."

And the Directors spoke amongst themselves, saying one to another, "It contains that which aids plant growth, and it is very strong."

And the Directors then went onto the Vice Presidents, saying unto them, "It promotes growth and is very powerful."

And the Vice Presidents went unto the President, saying unto him, "This new plan will actively promote the growth and vigour of the company; with powerful effects."

And the President looked upon the Plan, and saw that it was good.

And the Plan became Policy.

This is How Shit Happens.



Special High Intensive Training

For best results, print this one out on company letterhead and send it on its way...

In order to assure the highest levels of quality work and productivity from employees, it will be our policy to keep all employees well rained through our program of SPECIAL HIGH INTENSITY TRAINING (S.H.I.T.). We are trying to give employees more S.H.I.T. than anyone else.

If you feel that you do not receive your share of S.H.I.T. on the job, please see your manager. You will be immediately placed at the top of the S.H.I.T. list, and our managers are especially skilled at seeing that you get all the S.H.I.T. you can handle.

Employees who don't take S.H.I.T. will be placed in DEPARTMENTAL EMPLOYEE EVALUATION PROGRAMS (D.E.E.P.S.H.I.T.). Those who fail to take D.E.E.P.S.H.I.T. seriously will have to go to EMPLOYEE ATTITUDE TRAINING (E.A.T.S.H.I.T.). Since our managers took S.H.I.T. before they were promoted, they don't have to do S.H.I.T. anymore, and are full of S.H.I.T. already.

If you are full of S.H.I.T., you may be interested in job training others. We can add your name to our BASIC UNDERSTANDING LECTURE LIST (B.U.L.L.S.H.I.T.). Those who are full of B.U.L.L.S.H.I.T. will get S.H.I.T. jobs, and can apply for promotion to DIRECTOR of INTENSITY PROGRAMMING (D.I.P.S.H.I.T.).

If you have further questions, please direct them to our HEAD OF TRAINING, SPECIAL HIGH INTENSITY TRAINING (H.O.T.S.H.I.T.).

Thank you,

BOSS IN GENERAL, SPECIAL HIGH INTENSITY TRAINING (B.I.G.S.H.I.T.)



Rules For Managers

Never give me work in the morning. Always wait until 4:00 and then bring it to me. The challenge of a deadline is refreshing.
If it's really a rush job, run in and interrupt me every 10 minutes to inquire how it's going. That helps. Even better, hover behind me, and advise me at every keystroke.
Always leave without telling anyone where you're going. It gives me a chance to be creative when someone asks where you are.
If my arms are full of papers, boxes, books, or supplies, don't open the door for me. I need to learn how to function as a paraplegic and opening doors with no arms is good training in case I should ever be injured and lose all use of my limbs.
If you give me more than one job to do, don't tell me which is priority. I am psychic.
Do your best to keep me late. I adore this office and really have nowhere to go or anything to do. I have no life beyond work.
If a job I do pleases you, keep it a secret. If that gets out, it could mean a promotion.
If you don't like my work, tell everyone. I like my name to be popular in conversations. I was born to be whipped.
If you have special instructions for a job, don't write them down. In fact, save them until the job is almost done. No use confusing me with useful information.
Never introduce me to the people you're with. I have no right to know anything. In the corporate food chain, I am plankton. When you refer to them later, my shrewd deductions will identify them.
Be nice to me only when the job I'm doing for you could really change your life and send you straight to manager's hell.
Tell me all your little problems. No one else has any and it's nice to know someone is less fortunate. I especially like the story about having to pay so many taxes on the bonus check you received for being such a good manager.
Wait until my yearly review and THEN tell me what my goals SHOULD have been. Give me a mediocre performance rating with a cost of living increase. I'm not here for the money anyway.

Classic things to say when stressed

"Okay, okay! I take it back. Unfuck you!!!"
"You say I'm a bitch like it's a bad thing?!"
"How many times do I have to flush before you go away?"
"Well this day was a total waste of make-up"
"Well aren't we a bloody ray of sunshine?"
"Don't bother me, I'm living happily ever after."
"Do I look like a fucking people person!"
"This isn't an office. It's HELL with fluorescent lighting"
"I started out with nothing still have most of it left"
"I pretend to work, they pretend to pay me"
"YOU!!... off my planet!!!"
"Therapy is expensive. Popping bubble plastic is cheap. You choose"
"Practice random acts of intelligence and senseless acts of self-control"
"Errors have been made. Others will be blamed"
"And your cry-baby, whiny-assed opinion would be.....?"
"I'm not crazy. I've been in a very bad mood for 30 years."
"Sarcasm is just one more service I offer."
"Whatever kind of look you were going for, you missed"
"Do they ever shut up on your planet?"
"I'm not your type. I'm not inflatable"
"Stress is when you wake up screaming and you realize you haven't gone to sleep yet"
"Back off!! You're standing in my aura."
"Don't worry. I forgot your name too."
"I just want revenge. Is that so wrong?"
"I work 45 hours a week to be this poor."
"Nice perfume. Must you marinate in it."
"Not all men are annoying. Some are dead."
"Wait...I'm trying to imagine you with a personality"
"Chaos, panic and disorder . . . my work here is done."
"Ambivalent? Well yes and no."
"You look like shit. Is that the style now?"
"Earth is full. Go home."
"Aw, did I step on your poor little bitty ego?"
"I'm not tense, just terribly, terribly alert."
"A hard-on doesn't count as personal growth."
"You are depriving some village of an idiot."
"If assholes could fly, this place would be an airport."


The Snake and the Bunny Once upon a time, allegedly, in a nice little forest, there lived an orphaned bunny and an orphaned snake. By a surprising coincidence, both were blind from birth.

One day, the bunny was hopping through the forest, and the snake was slithering through the forest, when the bunny tripped over the snake and fell down. This, of course, knocked the snake about quite a bit.

"Oh, my," said the bunny, "I'm terribly sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I've been blind since birth, so, I can't see where I'm going. In fact, since I'm also an orphan, I don't even know what I am."

"It's quite OK," replied the snake. "Actually, my story is much the same as yours. I, too, have been blind since birth, and also never knew my mother.

Tell you what, maybe I could slither all over you, and work out what you are, so at least you'll have that going for you.."

"Oh, that would be wonderful" replied the bunny.

So the snake slithered all over the bunny, and said, "Well, you're covered with soft fur; you have really long ears; your nose twitches; and you have a soft cottony tail. I'd say that you must be a bunny rabbit."

"Oh, thank you! Thank you," cried the bunny, in obvious excitement.

The bunny suggested to the snake, "Maybe I could feel you all over with my paw, and help you the same way that you've helped me."

So the bunny felt the snake all over, and remarked, "Well, you're smooth and slippery, and you have a forked tongue, no backbone and no balls. I'd say you must be either a team leader or possibly someone in senior management".



Office Dares

One-Point Dares

Ignore the first five people who say 'good morning' to you.
To signal the end of a conversation, clamp your hands over your ears and grimace.
Leave your fly open for one hour. If anyone points it out, say, "Sorry, I really prefer it this way".
Walk sideways to the photocopier.
While going in an elevator, gasp dramatically each time the doors open.
When in elevator with one other person, tap them on the shoulder and pretend it wasn't you.
Finish all your sentences with "In accordance with the prophecy..."
Don't use any punctuation.
Interrupt your conversation with someone by giving a huge dejected sigh.
Use your highlighter pen on the computer screen.
Three-Point Dares
Say to your boss, "I like your style", wink, and shoot him with double-barreled fingers.
Kneel in front of the water cooler and drink directly from the nozzle.
Shout random numbers while someone is counting.
Every time you get an email, shout ''email''.
Put decaf in the coffee maker for 3 weeks. Once everyone has got over their caffeine addictions, switch to espresso.
Keep hole punching your finger. Each time you do, shout, "dagnamit, it's happened again!". Then do it again.
Introduce yourself to a new colleague as "the office bicycle". Then wink and pout.
Call I.T. helpdesk and tell them that you can't seem to access any pornography web sites.
Five-Point Dares
At the end of a meeting, suggest that, for once, it would be nice to conclude with the singing of the national anthem (extra points if you actually launch into it yourself).
Walk into a very busy person's office and while they watch you with growing irritation, turn the light switch on/off 10 times.
For an hour, refer to everyone you speak to as "Dave".
Announce to everyone in a meeting that you "really have to go do a number two".
When you've picked up a call, before speaking finish off some fake conversation with the words, ''she can abort it for all I care''.
After every sentence, say 'Mon' in a really bad Jamaican accent. As in: "The report's on your desk, Mon." Keep this up for one hour.
In a meeting or crowded situation, slap your forehead repeatedly and mutter, "Shut up, damn it, all of you just shut up!"
At lunchtime, get down on your knees and announce, "As God is my witness,I'll never go hungry again!"
Repeat the following conversation 10 times to the same person: "Do you hear that?" "What?" "Never mind, it's gone now."
Present meeting attendees with a cup of coffee and biscuit; smash each biscuit with your fist.
During the course of a meeting, slowly edge your chair towards the door.
As often as possible, skip rather than walk.
Ask people what sex they are. Laugh hysterically after they answer.
Sign or p.p. all letters with your initials and a swastika.
Dry hump the photocopier. When someone spots you, stop and cough embarrassingly, then lean in to the machine and whisper loudly, "I'll see you tonight".

Old People rant.

So this rant is old, (so old in fact that back when i wrote it I used to be a Paramedic!!! , yep that long ago!!!!) but something I have been wanting to write about for a while now...


It's a fact of life. The older you are, the funnier you smell. Everyone remembers wrinkling their nose at the occasional malodorous burst that your grandfather would emit from his recliner. We all have that one Great-Aunt who never quite got the message that bathing in lilac perfume not only didn't make her attractive, but was also socially inappropriate at funerals and baptisms.

Eventually though we're all going to reach the age when our ol'factory abilities are no longer quite up to snuff, and then we too will join the ranks of the Funny-Smelling-Old-People. In the hopes of brightening the lives of all of the various and theoretical individuals who will be involved in caring for us though, let me offer a few ground rules that I've thought up during the course of my intensive studies of the aged human.

Rule Number 1:
If you piss yourself, change your garments and/or bed sheets immediately. If unable to fulfill this task immediately alert your caretaker to the problem. If caretaker is a lazy fatass in a nursing home, threaten to cut some bacon off that bitch's ass if she doesn't get you some new drawers.

This may seem like a no-brainer, but when you have no brain (quite literally, as the Alzheimer's disease has put millions of little holes through yours) you might need a little reminder now and then. This is a bigger problem with little old men than with little old women. These 80+ year old gentlemen have worn the same pair of tighty-whities since Churchill was smoking cigars and fending off Nazis, and by God you're not going to change that habit now. True, the tighty-whities would now be more appropriately called tighty-yellowies, tighty-brownies, or tighty-WHAT THE FUCKies, but the stench of old ball sweat, urine, and last weeks nursing home brand chili-con-carne is appealing and soothing to the most ancient of men.

All the same- fellas, change it up every now and then. If for no other reason than to spare the young paramedic who's come to pick you up off the floor the overpowering stench of your manly musk. The gentleman I used to pick up off the floor had been on a "Nothing but asparagus, and garlic" diet for about a week based on the incredible odour that was released every time he spread his sizeable thighs.

Rule Number 2:
If you have a colostomy bag, wear it. ALWAYS.

According to Wikipedia, a colostomy is "a surgical procedure that involves connecting a part of the colon onto the anterior abdominal wall, leaving the patient with an opening on the abdomen called a stoma. This opening is formed from the end of the large intestine drawn out through the incision and sutured to the skin. After a colostomy, feces leave the patient's body through the stoma, and collect in a pouch attached to the patient's abdomen which is changed when necessary."

I don't know how much more detail I need to go into on this one. The implications of not following my rather simple directive are obviously severe, but sadly it's a problem that millions, if not billions of people face everyday. At least it seems that way to me. Letting shit literally run down your entire body, including into the open, gangrenous wound on your foot is just bad form. There's nothing at all Christian about doing that. As a matter of fact, didn't Jesus say "Thou shalt not let shit run down thy body", or something like that? I'm pretty sure I read that in Gastrocnemius 13:4.

Of course if you do let all of this happen to you, you're probably crazy enough to latch onto the railing of the staircase with your old-lady claw hands, and contort yourself into an ungodly position. And did you just manage to get your head stuck between two of the support posts for the railing? You did? Good. Time to call the Fire Department.

Rule Number 3:
Do not, at any time, place your nasty old-lady hands anywhere near the paramedic's genitals.

"Ma'am, with all due respect- please stop cupping my balls. I don't care if I do look like a guy you fucked in 1928" Yeah, I'd hoped to make it to at least 40 before I had to use that line, but unfortunately my chosen profession will afford me no such luxury. This rule doesn't have as much to do with terrible smells as the others, but it's still an important announcement for the geriatric population. Once you top 60 (and I'm being generous there) it is imperative to the psychological well-being of those around you that you adopt a perfectly asexual lifestyle. IMPERATIVE. To the younger folks reading this: work hard in school, and develop the anti-Viagra. Work hard to pass a law requiring all old folks to take said pill.

Rule Number 4:
Ladies, take care of your teats. Everyone likes British Cheese- nobody likes Boob Cheese.

There is nothing worse than boob cheese. It ruins my days, and haunts my dreams. It stalks me in my nightmares- sneaking up behind me all curdled and smelling like a septic tank with a yeast infection. It's a known fact that failing to lift up your titties and clean underneath (especially if they hang to your knees) will result in the spontaneous formation of boob cheese. Now before you get all spiritual and assume this is some sort of divine creation of new life let me assure you that if I didn't was parts of my body all sorts of little creepy crawlies would grow there too, and I'd have no part in their creation.

Now many of you may be wondering why I'm dealing with old lady funbags in the first place. Well sadly enough a few years ago they decided that paramedics were intelligent enough to apply a few stickers to a patient's chest, look at a few wavy lines on an ECG, and determine whether or not someone was having a heart attack. This would be a good thing, if placing some of those stickers didn't require diving into the heart of darkness that is the underside of a 94 year old woman's 37lb breast that you have to start lifting from below her shin. I kid you not; this woman was scratching her left nipple with her big toe.

So there you have it. Rules for not smelling terrible in your old age, and for making the life of your medical care provider that much better. Oh, and really, no matter how bad they smell old ladies are still sweet as can be.

Paper Vs Rock

I understand how scissors can beat paper and i get how a rock can beat scissors, but there's no fucking way paper can beat rock. Is paper supposed to magically wrap around rock and leave it immobile? Screw scissors, why can't paper do this to people? Why aren't sheets of college ruled notebook paper constantly suffocating students as they take notes in class? I'll tell you why, because paper can't beat anybody!!! A rock would tear that shit up in two seconds. When i play rock, paper scissors, i always play rock. Then when somebody claims to have beaten me with paper i can punch them in the face with my already clenched fist and say:
"Oh shit, I'm sorry. I thought paper would protect you, you asshole!!!

Funny Laws from around the world

1-In Alabama, putting salt on a railroad track may be punishable by death and keeping an ice cream cone in your back pocket at any time is a crime.

2-A law in Fairbanks, Alaska does not allow moose to have sex on city streets.

3-In Alaska, you may hunt a bear safely but it is illegal to wake a bear and take a picture for photo opportunities.

4-In Arizona, US, donkeys cannot sleep in bathtubs and you may be imprisoned for 25 years for cutting down a cactus.

5-In Arkansas, schoolteachers who bob their hair are not eligible for a raise and it is illegal to buy or sell blue light bulbs.

6-In Baldwin Park, California, nobody is allowed to ride a bicycle in a swimming pool.

7- In Los Angeles, a man can legally beat his wife with a leather belt or strap, but the belt can't be wider than 2 inches, unless he has his wife's consent to beat her with a wider strap. Consent should be given prior to the event, as is carefully stipulated.

8-In Philippines, cars whose license plates end with a 1 or 2 are not allowed on the roads on Monday, 3 or 4 on Tuesday, 5 or 6 on Wednesday, 7 or 8 on Thursday, and 9 or 0 on Friday from 7:00 AM onwards to keep roads free of traffic jams.

9-In Singapore, it is illegal to come within 50 meters of a pedestrian crossing marker on any street.

10-In South Korea, traffic policemen are required to report all bribes that they receive from motorists.

11-In Sweden, prostitution is legal but it is illegal to use the services of a prostitute.

12-In Switzerland, it is illegal to flush the toilet after 10 PM.

13-In Thailand, it is illegal to leave your house without wearing underwear.


Go figure!!!

List of the world's most ridiculous laws

25. It is illegal for a cab in the City of London to carry rabid dogs or corpses.

24. It is illegal to die in the Houses of Parliament.

23. It is an act of treason to place a postage stamp bearing the British monarch upside down.

22. In France, it is forbidden to call a pig, Napoleon.

21. Under the UK’s Tax Avoidance Schemes Regulations 2006, it is illegal not to tell the taxman anything you don’t want him to know, though you don’t have to tell him anything you don’t mind him knowing.

20. In Alabama, it is illegal for a driver to be blindfolded while driving a vehicle.

19. In Ohio, it is against state law to get a fish drunk.

18. Royal Navy ships that enter the Port of London must provide a barrel of rum to the Constable of the Tower of London.

17. In the UK, a pregnant woman can legally relieve herself anywhere she wants – even, if she so requests, in a policeman’s helmet.

16. In Lancashire, no person is permitted after being asked to stop by a constable on the seashore to incite a dog to bark.

15. In Miami, Florida, it is illegal to skateboard in a police station.

14. In Indonesia, the penalty for masturbation is decapitation.

13. In England, all men over the age of 14 must carry out two hours of longbow practice a day.

12. In London, Freemen are allowed to take a flock of sheep across London Bridge without being charged a toll; they are also allowed to drive geese down Cheapside.

11. In San Salvador, drunk drivers can be punished by death before a firing squad.

10. In the UK, a man who feels compelled to urinate in public can do so only if he aims for his rear wheel and keeps his right hand on his vehicle.

9. In Florida, unmarried women who parachute on Sundays can be jailed.

8. In Kentucky, it is illegal to carry a concealed weapon more than six-feet long.

7. In Chester, Welshmen are banned from entering the city before sunrise and from staying after sunset.

6. In the city of York, it is legal to murder a Scotsman within the ancient city walls, but only if he is carrying a bow and arrow.

5. In Boulder, Colorado, it is illegal to kill a bird within the city limits and also to “own” a pet – the town’s citizens, legally speaking, are merely “pet minders”.

4. In Vermont, women must obtain written permission from their husbands to wear false teeth.

3. In London, it is illegal to flag down a taxi if you have the plague.

2. In Bahrain, a male doctor may legally examine a woman’s genitals but is forbidden from looking directly at them during the examination; he may only see their reflection in a mirror.

1. The head of any dead whale found on the British coast is legally the property of the King; the tail, on the other hand, belongs to the Queen - in case she needs the bones for her corset.

Dear Fat Bird Down the Road,

I'm the first to admit that it would be easier to come and speak to you in person than to draft this letter,
but there is a good reason I have elected to contact you in writing. Put simply, you terrify me.

Actually, perhaps 'terrify' is the wrong word. 'Alarm' might be more appropriate. 'Disturb', maybe.
Whatever the precise definition, the thought of coming within a few feet of you and holding a direct, one to
one conversation chills me to the bone.

That's not to say I can't speak to you. You've heard me say hello to you several times. In fact, I've
probably said hello more times to you than I have to anyone else alive, and it is for this precise reason I
have chosen to write this letter.

I'm going to come right out with it:

Why are you following me?

It was funny the first few occasions I bumped into you in unexpected places, but now - if I'm honest - it's
kind of creeping me out.

Remember that first time - two, maybe three years ago, I forget - when I was out running along a dirt track
several miles from where either one of us lives? I'd covered a fair distance that day, but was still a good
twenty miles from the nearest signs of civilisation.

Imagine my surprise, then, to meet you walking at a leisurely pace in the opposite direction. We greeted each
other with a polite nod and a mumbled 'alright?' and continued on our way, and though I wondered where you could
possibly be walking from, I quickly put it down to one of life's funny little coincidences, and didn't give
the incident another thought.

Until two weeks later, when I met you near the gents' toilets of a Amoreiras Shopping Mall. The gents' toilets
of Amoreiras located one hundred and nine squillion miles from our home town. You were pacing around the main
entrance as I was entering, and though I smiled at our second coincidental meeting in as many weeks, you remained
largely impassive, simply giving me another nod as I stood aside to let you by.

By the time I emerged from the toilets - just two minutes later - you were gone.

In the weeks which followed I became more and more suspicious. It seemed that wherever I went, there you were.

When I went to the petrol station you were there filling your car up. In the supermarket you were at the next
checkout, your trolley groaning under the weight of cakes and chocolate. On my way home from nights out with
friends I'd pass your house and find you standing on the front step, smoking. At 3am! Why were you standing
outside smoking at 3am, you crazy bitch?

On every occasion the salutation was the same: A single nod of your oversized head and - if you were feeling
generous - a curt 'alright?'. One time, during a late night smoking session, you broke with tradition as I
passed and commented on how cold it was. It was three o'clock in the morning in February, of course it was cold.
If you were cold why weren't you inside your house?!

Why? Because you were waiting for me, that's why. That's what I decided at the time, anyway, and you've done
little to convince me otherwise in the weeks and months since then.

I travel 65 miles to the nearest cinema and you're sitting in the row in front, scoffing popcorn by the fistful.
I go swimming and you're standing by the changing room, vigorously drying inbetween your oversized thighs like
your life depends on it. I pass you on my way into town and then meet you in the first shop I go into. How is
that even possible? Do you double back? Is there more than one of you? It just doesn't make sense any more.
Had it not been for the fact that other people have seen you I'd be convinced you existed solely in my head.

I'm sure you haven't forgotten that time I went to visit my ex-girlfriend in hospital, only to find you lying in
the bed I expected her to be in. For a brief moment I felt an almost overwhelming sense of relief. I thought I
had finally reached the end of some twisted, elaborate game, and you were going to be revealed as nothing more
than my ex-girlfriend in a fat suit. But no. My ex-girlfriend had simply been moved to another ward, and you
had been given her old bed, supposedly completely by chance.

Well I don't buy it. There's not enough room in the world for that much coincidence. The Universe just doesn't
work that way.

It's got to the stage now where I'm actively looking for you wherever I go. Will you be sitting in the dentist's
waiting room today? Or at the next table in a coffee shop? Or hiding in my cupboard? I feel like I'm trapped
in some psychologically harrowing version of 'Where's Wally?' with no way of reaching the final page.

It's the apparent lack of motive which scares me the most. Have I done something to you? Is that why you're
pursuing me like some sort of relentless machine? If I have, then I'm sorry. Whatever it was, I'm sorry.
Just please ... please leave me alone!

Ironically, I don't even know your name, despite knowing your face better than I know my own. It has reached
the stage now when I can identify your slow, lumbering walk at anything up to five hundred yards, though I've
learned long ago that taking evasive action even at this early stage is pointless. You'll find me. Wherever
I go, whichever way I turn, you'll find me. You'll hunt me down, and for what? To nod at me and say 'alright?'
in a low voice? It seems like such a waste of both your time and mine.

I'd like us to wipe the slate clean and start again. If it takes some kind of rota system in which only one
of us can leave our respective houses at any given time, that's fine by me. I can work with that if it means
not having to constantly be on the lookout for your bulging frame.

As I explained earlier, I don't know your name. Nor do I know the exact number of the house you live at, as I
usually fix my gaze firmly on the pavement when I pass. This would make addressing this letter difficult,
however I am reasonably confident that when I finish writing and turn around I will find you standing a short
distance behind me, so I foresee no difficulty in getting my message to you.

Thank you for taking the time to read this letter, and for the five minutes of relative freedom you have
afforded me by doing so. I look forward to never seeing you again for the remainder of my natural life.

Regards,


Feral

A Letter to God

Sent: 8th April 2008 •
To: The Lord God Almighty •
Subject: A Quick Word

Dear Father Who Art in Heaven,

Apologies for writing this letter to you on the day of the Pope's funeral, but as you're omnipotent I thought
you could probably still manage to show him around and read this at the same time. Regardless, I'll try to
keep this brief as I know you're very busy being utterly indifferent to the suffering of mankind:


What the fuck are you playing at?

Okay, perhaps that's a little too brief. If you'll avoid turning me into a pillar of salt or having a plague
of locusts descend on my house for the next five minutes I'll explain my concerns in a little more detail.
You may want to have a seat before continuing, assuming for one second that someone who is both everywhere
and nowhere at the same time is capable of sitting down.

That's a point - if you made man in your own image how come I'm not an unfeasibly large invisible giant too?
Actually there are one or two questions I have regarding your existence and the contents of the Bible which
I'll throw into this letter, and which I hope you can answer should you take the time to reply. That's not
my main reason for writing, however. Oh my goodness no.

I'll admit I haven't been a regular church goer. In fact since leaving primary school I've only ever set foot
inside a church to shoot wedding videos, and even this was solely motivated by profit. On the other hand,
however, I don't think I've lived my life in sin, or at least in no more sin than the vast majority of your
flock, and in less than the majority of the Catholic church.

In fact, to illustrate how scarcely I sin (other than low key, everyday sins, obviously, because let's face
it, if I was to avoid all sin I'd have to somehow force myself to slip into a coma), let's take a look at
the Ten Commandments:

I. Thou shalt have no other gods before me.

I don't. I'm strictly 100% atheist and worship no gods of any description whatsoever. I've dabbled in Buddhism,
but then Buddhism is not centred round the concept of there being one true god, so I don't think it counts.

In fact when you think of it, this commandment is pretty stupid. What other gods are there these days? I
don't really expect there's a large following for Thor the God of Thunder any more, at least not outside
of Marvel Comics. If you ever get round to having the Bible updated (and if you do I'm more than willing
to help with the rewrite) I think you can safely drop this commandment.


Have I broken this commandment?: No.


II. Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image.

I don't even know what this means, so I don't reckon I've done it. Was this the thing about all the folk at the
bottom of the mountain having made a cow out of gold and started worshipping it while Moses was up getting these
commandments carved in stone? How bored do you have to be to decide to build a cow out of solid gold??

In fact if it only took you a week to create the Earth and everything in it how come it took you like a month
to write the ten commandments? If it was writer's block I can relate to that. Or did you come up with loads of
other commandments that had to be whittled down to the final ten? "Though shalt not throw toads at a wall"
and the like?

Whatever, how pissed off were you when Moses smashed them to smithereens when he got to the bottom of the
mountain? Way to go with the temper losing Moses. Man I bet he was sheepish when he came back up to ask for
another copy.


Have I broken this commandment?: No.


III. Thou shalt not take the name of the LORD thy God in vain.

Okay, I've done this, but Christ, who hasn't? I'll give you this one though, since I've actually been pulled
up for saying "for God's sake" by an old woman in the past, so there must be people out there who strictly
adhere to it.


Have I broken this commandment?: Yes.


IV. Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy.

I'm unsure on this one. I like to think I've kept the sabbath day holy in a relaxed, informal sense. A sitting
about watching telly in my pants kind of sense. Do I go to church every Sunday? No, I don't, I'll give you
that, but then in order to keep the sabbath day holy in the way intended in the Bible no-one should be going
to the shops or drinking alcohol or driving cars or anything, and I don't believe there's more than a handful
of people in the world who can say that.

Except maybe the Amish.

And no, I'm aware it doesn't mention anything about driving cars in the Bible, but it does say you're supposed
to walk everywhere on the sabbath, so the driving cars bit is definitely inferred.

So on balance then I reckon I've kept the sabbath just about as holy as everyone else has, so assuming you're
not going to have everyone but the Amish cast into the fiery pits of Hell for breaking this one, I'm going to
assume it remains relatively unbroken by me.


Have I broken this commandment?: No (ish).


V. Honour thy father and thy mother.

Oh, I do. They may get on my nerves from time to time, but everyone gets on my nerves from time to time, so
it's no reflection on them. I'll admit I'm struggling to recall specific incidents of me honouring them, but
there's a vague kind of generic honouring going on most of the time.


Have I broken this commandment?: No.

VI. Thou shalt not kill.

I'm definitely in the clear on this one! Even the police said that guy was just a tragic accident and that
I'd tried my best to grab him before he stepped in front of that train.

Have I broken this commandment?: No, and I dare any fucker to say different.


VII. Thou shalt not commit adultery.

Hmm. Again this is a tricky one. Depends how you class adultery. If it has to involve relations of a physical
nature, then no, I haven't. If it also includes spending time with another woman on the sly while in a
relationship with someone else, then yes, I have.

I'll put me down as a "don't know".

Have I broken this commandment?: Maybe.


VIII. Thou shalt not steal.

Once when I was about seven I absent-mindedly walked out of a shop without paying for the newspapers I had been
sent to buy for my parents (see how I honour them?), but I realised about half way home and went back in to pay
for them. Does that count? If so I reckon you're being a little bit harsh.

I'm going to assume because I didn't actually steal anything for more than a few minutes that I'm in the clear.

Have I broken this commandment?: No.


IX. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour.

I once told a story about a neighbour who is a pub singer falling off his stool while performing but "magically"
continuing to sing uninterrupted due to him having been miming his way through his entire repertoire, but to the
best of my knowledge that's true, so it doesn't count as false witness.

Have I broken this commandment?: No.

X. Thou shalt not covet any thing that is thy neighbour's.

When I was a student the guy in the flat above had an eighteen year old daughter who would come to visit who I
found very attractive. I wouldn't say I "coveted" her as such, more just quite liked the idea of seeing her naked.
Never did though. Shame.

Have I broken this commandment?: No.


So there you have it. Of the ten commandments I've broken one, been a bit iffy on two and adhered to the rest. I
haven't been a bad person all things considered.

So what's with the grudge you appear to have against me? Why have you singled me out for special treatment?
Don't try to deny it, the facts speak for themselves. I'm not going to go into great detail on all the things
you've inflicted upon me over the years because you know them all too well. In fact I wouldn't be at all
surprised if you have a spreadsheet of them printed out and pinned to your office wall, just below an A3 sized
artist's impression of my crying face.

It may strike you as odd that I, a self-confessed atheist, am writing to you to question your motives, but the
answer is very simple. Either I accept that you do exist and that for reasons unknown you fucking hate me, or
I assume all blame for everything that has gone wrong in my life and actively do something to improve the
situation. Though it has taken a radical shift in my thinking, I've decided to go for the former, simply
because I don't fancy facing up to the crushing realisation that I am the captain of my own destiny and that
the majority of my woes have been caused solely by my own actions.

Take, for example, the old penis in the zip incident back when I was sixteen. You remember that one, don't you
God? Granted it was me and not you who caught the old chap in the fly of my Levis, but I'm not the first to do
it and I'm reasonably confident I won't be the last.

How many others, however, awoke next morning to find themselves literally pissing blood all over their sheets?
How many others had to face the indignation of walking through a crowded doctor's surgery with a plastic bag
apparently designed for just such a purpose held firmly over their genitals? Very few, I'll bet. My I bet Noah
laughed at that one when you told him about it in the bar that evening.

Oh, and as an aside, Noah lived to be how old? Nine hundred and fifty it says in the Bible, but that's got to be
some kind of misprint, right? I mean I thought people were living longer these days, but I don't think anyone
is even close to getting a second telegram from the Queen, let alone their ninth! No wonder his beard was so
huge. Man I bet he bored the arse off everyone for the last few hundred years banging on about that boat he
built. "Yeah, yeah, Noah, big flood, animals went in two by two, we've all heard it". Does he still talk about
it now?

In fact, now I think about it, can you explain this:

Genesis 8:20 Then Noah built an altar to the LORD, and took of every clean animal and of every clean bird and
offered burnt offerings on the altar.

Am I right in thinking that after saving all the animals and birds from the great flood Noah then killed and
burnt one of each of them?? How does that work? Didn't that defeat the entire point? I also couldn't let the
next bit pass without comment:

8:21 And the LORD smelled the soothing aroma; and the LORD said to Himself, "I will never again curse the
ground on account of man, for the intent of man's heart is evil from his youth; and I will never again destroy
every living thing, as I have done.

Yeah, you can't beat that smell of burning giraffe, can you? What's with the talking to yourself, though?
More importantly, how did whoever wrote this know you were talking to yourself? And the intent of man's heart
is evil from his youth? Fuck that's bleak. What's the point in even trying if we're all inherently evil anyway?

Seems to me though that you're regretting the whole flood business. Does that mean you made a mistake? I thought
you were infallible? Isn't that the whole basis for religion, that your word is beyond question?

I really hope you can answer some of these and help clear up the confusion, because I'll be honest, I'm starting
to lose that little nugget of belief again, and I don't want to accept any responsibility for my own life if
at all possible.

Reading back over it, I'm struggling to find the purpose of this letter, but I think it basically boils down to
"stop picking on me". In fact, how about you stop picking on everyone? Enough with the Tsunamis and the
earthquakes and the famine and the wars in your name. Cut that shit out. And don't give me none of that
"free will" nonsense. What, it's man's free will to be sitting on the toilet when a fifty foot tidal wave
smashes his house to rubble? On one level yes, I suppose it is, but on so many other levels it's just plain
nastiness on your part.

Man can only have free will if all the information is presented to him, so perhaps if the Archangel Gabriel
had gone door to door saying "by the way a fuck off great wave is going to kill you next week if you stay here"
then I'd have accepted the free will argument, but to the best of my knowledge no such house call was conducted.

When I was about six a Salvation Army person came to the school and said something which stuck with me forever:
"Every time we see a rainbow it reminds us of God's love".

I took this to mean that you, the aforementioned God, were making the rainbows appear as a little reminder of
how much you love us. Tell you what though, keep the rainbows, and stop randomly killing hundreds of thousands
of people on a whim. Sound fair? Perhaps if you stop heaping the tragedy onto people they won't need your
multi-coloured distractions and can instead happily get on with their lives in peace? Just a thought.

Anyway, sorry I didn't quite pull off the brevity thing, but then being God you probably received this letter
before I was even born or something, so chances are it hasn't interrupted your working day too much.

I look forward to your reply, or that of the thousands of zealots who shall now likely attempt to kill me in
your name. Get them told to ease off with the fatwahs too.

Amen,

biker description rant

I know this is a rant but whatever, I put it in the rant section also. Every once in a while I take an easy ride on the bike path. By the time I am done I swear never again. A month later I don’t want to go to the fells and repeat the same mistake again. I know the bike path is for everyone but HOLY SHIT there are some really annoying people on it.

1) Two-A-Breasters: There is a reason the bike path has a yellow line. You ass wipes ride (or walk) side by side and hog the whole thing. Get with the program! The only good thing about you are your screams of fright as I blow by you without warning.

2) Queer-Eye-For-The-Biker-Guy: I realize that it is possible to buy an entire suit made from Spandex. It is also possible to beat off with a cheese grater, that doesn’t necessarily make it a good idea. If you were you going fast enough to make wind resistance an issue I might be more understanding but you are usually granny-gearing it as you swerve around trying to adjust your $200 sunglasses. Spend less time buying expensive crap and more time riding.

3) Slow-And-Lowers: Do you know that you can adjust your bike seat so that you don’t look like a bear riding a mini-bike at the circus? Take the 30 goddamn seconds to raise the freakin’ seat. Your back will thank you and you’ll be able to break 12 miles per hour with out blowing out a knee cap.

4) Sky-Bar-Enders: Bar ends ARE NOT for getting your hand six inches above the handle bars. They should not be pointing straight up in the goddamn air! If you don’t know exactly why you would want bar ends then YOU DON’T NEED THEM. They are not a convenient resting place for your chubby hands. They are for getting your weight forward during a STEEP TECHNICAL CLIMB. I hope you impale yourself on them after you hit a tree because you couldn’t reach the brake lever in time.

5) Richie-Dick: Yah you, the guy with the 3000 euro full suspension big hit bike poking along the bike trail. The biggest hit you have ever taken was when you got butt raped by the guy who sold you that bike. YOU SUCK! You are the same dumbass who buys a Lexus SUV so you can gun it when you roll over some construction on a main Avenue. You buy a sweet bike and then ride it on freakin’ pavement. I know you have never hit the trail cause’ there is NO DIRT on the thing. Not a spek. Plus you look like a pussy. Either take it off pavement or give it to someone who will.

6) On-Your-Late: Ok there is absolutely nothing wrong with a well timed “On your left” but here is the thing. The whole point of saying it is to warn the rider in front of you that you will soon pass them. Not that you are already next to them on their left side! If your bike is next to mine, IT’S TOO FREAKIN LATE. If we were going to collide we would have. You screaming “On your left” in my ear at that point will only increase the chances of me making an error and crashing into you. Just pass you retard.

7) The HFS (Huge Fucking Stroller): HOLY SHIT! Are you running a cloning lab? If your stroller needs a brake it’s too damn big. Take your kids to the playground and play some tag or something. Jesus, there are bikes flying by at 30 miles per hour. If one hits you your kid will fucking die. I know you think the world will stop for you and your precious little angels but get a clue. Three words “Severe Head Trauma”.

8) Woof-Woof-Splat: Keep your dog on a leash you ass. First of all it’s the FUCKING LAW. Second of all your dog is dumb. So dumb in fact, that it will run in front of my bike to eat some piece of shit left by another jackass dog walker. I WILL hit your dog. I will not get killed or hurt somebody else trying to swerve around Fido. I almost died last year trying to avoid an unleashed dog and will not repeat the mistake. I love dogs but I like my unbroken bones better. Take responsibility for your pet.

9) Roller Bladers: You all suck ass, flailing your arms wildly as you coast along on you roller skates. YES they are roller skates and thus, quite lame. I don’t care if the wheels are “inline”. You jackasses suck so hard I have to break you down into sub-categories of suck.

9.A) Newbi-Tard: You people are ridiculous. You are all decked out in helmets and pads. You mostly look terrified as your (usually fat) ass careens down the very slight grade of the trail. Here is a hint. If you don’t know how to STOP then it probably isn’t safe for you or anyone else for you to be on the path. I swear one of you is gonna fall in front of me and get an imprint of my front sprocket on your fat thighs.

9.B) Pack Of Newbi-Tards: See above but clustered together, literally hanging onto each other for protection. You are worse than the individuals. You take up the WHOLE TRAIL so nobody can pass. Heed the dirty looks you get and go find a freaking parking lot. I hope to kick one of you as I ride by and watch as you all fall over in a flabby whimpering heap.

9.C) Hot Chicks With Skimpy Outfits: The only reason you suck is because you are fully clothed and make me slow down to check you out. Other than that you rock.

9.D) Super Sweet Doooods: You guys are sooo fucking gay it’s not even funny. You think you are awesome as you take up the whole trail gliding back and forth in super sweet slow motion. I dream of you flying off the trail and getting wrapped around a tree.

People Of Mention:
Having been on the path more than a few times I have come to recognize a select few people who require special attention.

The kid who shot me with a plastic BB gun: I saw you hiding behind the bush well before you shot me. You were lucky I was going fast when the yellow BB hit my chest and thus had to slow down a little before leaping off my bike and chasing you as far as your back yard. You were scared shitless which is good because you could kill someone doing that shit. If I ever see you again you won’t be so lucky.

The 35 people who rode by me pretending I didn’t exist as I asked for a spare tube or a patch kit after blowing both of my spare tubes: You all suck ass. A very nice lady eventually stopped and gave me a patch. I know I was covered in mud but come on people. I always stop and ask people if they need help, common freaking courtesy.

The Decked Out Intense Midget Woman: OK you are not actually a midget but you do look very small. Or perhaps you look small in comparison to the mounds of crap attached to your mountain bike which is too big for you and I am sure has never left the pavement. Not only do you fall into categories 2, 4, 5 and 6. You were also one of the 35 jerks who didn’t help me. In fact you looked me in the eye and didn’t even slow down. I KNOW you have every sort of tool and tube imaginable packed away in your various slings and packs yet you rode by as if I were invisible. You look like a goddamn scuba diver with your neoprene outfit and mirrors sticking off of every available part of your bike. I see you on Liberty Avenue. from time to time in the morning on my way to work. You look retarded. And why do you hang a huge plastic bag from your bar ends?!?!?! It looks like your gear makes you waterproof to the depth of at least 15 meters. What are the bags doing? Worst of all YOU ARE SLOW!!!!! God you are slow. Jettison some of your useless shit and maybe I won’t blow by you 4 times in one ride.

Tubby Guy On The Tiny Road Bike: I’ve only seen you a few times. Once I passed you through an intersection not knowing that this would enrage you so much that you would be forced to almost hit me as you sprinted past me sneering. I must say I was impressed, you hauled ass dude. I’m guessing you didn’t keep it up very long tho. If I hadn’t been on the tail end of a five hour ride I would have raced.

Gay Guys On The Tandem Bike: I am assuming that you are gay simply because I don’t know any straight guys who would go in 50/50 on a bright yellow tandem Cannondale and then ride it regularly in spandex forgive me if I am wrong. I haven’t seen you guys in a year or so. You were my arch rivals. Holy crap you were fast. One time I kept up with you (on the downhill) for a few minutes and almost died. I swear you would slow down until I got close and then take off again. I salute you, you bright yellow bastards. Oh and good call making the one eyed guy ride in back.

People Who Rock: Yes there are some people who rock! I’m not a total asshole.

Hard core road bikers: Holy crap you guys (and gals) are fast as hell, keep it up.
Mountain Unicyclers: I’ve seen you in the fells and there is only one word for you BADASS!!!!!!!!
Messengers/Anyone on a fixed gear with no brakes: You know it but I’ll say it anyway. Elite.
Trials Riders: I wish I had skills like that.
Little Kids with Big Helmets: You rock, two thumbs up!

FIVE MINUTE MANAGEMENT COURSE

Lesson 1:

A man is getting into the shower just as his wife is finishing up her
shower, when the doorbell rings.

The wife quickly wraps herself in a towel and runs downstairs.

When she opens the door, there stands Bob, the next-door neighbour.

Before she says a word, Bob says, 'I'll give you $800 to drop that
towel.'


After thinking for a moment, the woman drops her towel and stands naked
in front of Bob, after a few seconds, Bob hands her $800 and leaves.


The woman wraps back up in the towel and goes back upstairs.

When she gets to the bathroom, her husband asks, 'Who was that?'

'It was Bob the next door neighbour,' she replies.

'Great,' the husband says, 'did he say anything about the $800 he owes
me?'



Moral of the story:

If you share critical information pertaining to credit and risk with
your shareholders in time, you may be in a position to prevent avoidable
exposure.



Lesson 2:


A priest offered a Nun a lift.

She got in and crossed her legs, forcing her gown to reveal a leg.

The priest nearly had an accident.

After controlling the car, he stealthily slid his hand up her leg.

The nun said, 'Father, remember Psalm 129?'

The priest removed his hand. But, changing gears, he let his hand slide
up her leg again.
The nun once again said, 'Father, remember Psalm 129?'

The priest apologized 'Sorry sister but the flesh is weak.'

Arriving at the convent, the nun sighed heavily and went on her way.

On his arrival at the church, the priest rushed to look up Psalm 129. It
said, 'Go forth and seek, further up, you will find glory.'

Moral of the story:
If you are not well informed in your job, you might miss a great
opportunity.



Lesson 3:

A sales rep, an administration clerk, and the manager are walking to
lunch when they find an antique oil lamp.

They rub it and a Genie comes out.
The Genie says, 'I'll give each of you just one wish.'
'Me first! Me first!' says the admin clerk. 'I want to be in the
Bahamas, driving a speedboat, without a care in the world.'
Puff! She's gone.

'Me next! Me next!' says the sales rep. 'I want to be in Hawaii ,
relaxing on the beach with my personal masseuse, an endless supply of
Pina Coladas and the love of my life.'

Puff! He's gone.

'OK, you're up,' the Genie says to the manager.
The manager says, 'I want those two back in the office after lunch.'


Moral of the story:
Always let your boss have the first say.

Lesson 4


An eagle was sitting on a tree resting, doing nothing.

A small rabbit saw the eagle and asked him, 'Can I also sit like you and
do nothing?'
The eagle answered: 'Sure, why not.'

So, the rabbit sat on the ground below the eagle and rested. All of a
sudden, a fox appeared, jumped on the rabbit and ate it.

Moral of the story:
To be sitting and doing nothing, you must be sitting very, very high up.





Lesson 5

A turkey was chatting with a bull.

'I would love to be able to get to the top of that tree' sighed the
turkey, 'but I haven't got the energy.'
'Well, why don't you nibble on some of my droppings?' replied the bull.
They're packed with nutrients.'

The turkey pecked at a lump of dung, and found it actually gave him
enough strength to reach the lowest branch of the tree.

The next day, after eating some more dung, he reached the second branch.


Finally after a fourth night, the turkey was proudly perched at the top
of the tree.

He was promptly spotted by a farmer, who shot him out of the tree.


Moral of the story:
Bull Sh * t might get you to the top, but it won't keep you there..



Lesson 6


A little bird was flying south for the winter. It was so cold the bird
froze and fell to the ground into a large field.

While he was lying there, a cow came by and dropped some dung on him.

As the frozen bird lay there in the pile of cow dung, he began to
realize how warm he was.

The dung was actually thawing him out!

He lay there all warm and happy, and soon began to sing for joy.
A passing cat heard the bird singing and came to investigate.

Following the sound, the cat discovered the bird under the pile of cow
dung, and promptly dug him out and ate him.


Morals of the story:
(1) Not everyone who sh*ts o n you is your enemy.

(2) Not everyone who gets you out of sh* t is your
friend.

(3) And when you're in deep sh* t, it's best to keep
your mouth shut!


THUS ENDS THE FIVE MINUTE MANAGEMENT COURSE

School 1960 vs. School 2007

Scenario: Johnny and Mark get into a fistfight after school.

1960 - Crowd gathers. Mark wins. Johnny and Mark shake hands and end up mates.

2007 - Police are called, Armed Response Unit arrives and arrests Johnny and Mark. Mobiles with video of fight confiscated as evidence. They are charged with assault, ASBOs are taken out and both are suspended even though Johnny started it. Diversionary conferences and parent meetings conducted. Video shown on 6 internet sites.


Scenario: Jeffrey won't sit still in class, disrupts other students.

1960 - Jeffrey is sent to the principal's office and given 6 of the best. Returns to class, sits still and does not disrupt class again.

2007 - Jeffrey is given huge doses of Ritalin. Counselled to death. Becomes a zombie. Tested for ADD. School gets extra funding because Jeffrey has a disability. Drops out of school.


Scenario: Billy breaks a window in his neighbour's car and his Dad gives him the slipper.

1960 - Billy is more careful next time, grows up normal, goes to college, and becomes a successful businessman.

2007 - Billy's dad is arrested for child abuse. Billy is removed to foster care and joins a gang. Psychologist tells Billy's sister that she remembers being abused herself and their dad goes to prison. Billy's mum has an affair with the psychologist. Psychologist gets a promotion.


Scenario: Mark, a college student, brings cigarettes to school .

1960 - Mark shares a smoke with the school principal out on the smoking area.

2007 - Police are called and Mark is expelled from School for drug possession. His car is searched for drugs and weapons.


Scenario: Mohammed fails high school English.

1960 - Mohammed retakes his exam, passes and goes to college.

2007 - Mohammed's cause is taken up by local human rights group. Newspaper articles appear nationally explaining that making English a requirement for graduation is racist. Civil Liberties Association files class action lawsuit against state school system and his English teacher. English is banned from core curriculum. Mohammed is given his qualification anyway but ends up mowing lawns for a living because he cannot speak English.


Scenario: Johnny takes apart leftover firecrackers, puts them in a model plane paint bottle and blows up an anthill.

1960 - Ants die.

2007 - MI5 and police are called and Johnny is charged with perpetrating acts of terrorism. Teams investigate parents, siblings are removed from the home, computers are confiscated, and Johnny's dad goes on a terror watch list and is never allowed to fly again.


Scenario: Johnny falls during break and scrapes his knee. His teacher, Mary, finds him crying, and gives him a hug to comfort him.

1960 - Johnny soon feels better and goes back to playing.

2007 - Mary is accused of being a sexual predator and loses her job. She faces three years in prison. Johnny undergoes five years of therapy. Becomes gay.

Console Wars

You have to feel sorry for everyone that plumped for the PS3 over the 360. Not the Sony diehards that would buy a polished poo if it had the Sony logo on. No, I’m talking about those poor souls who were stood in Comets humming and hawing over which console to buy and plumped for the shiny black plastic thing that had a familiar name.

Because it just hasn’t delivered on its initial promise, has it? And sure, PS3 owners put on a brave face and try to sound like they’re not bothered that they backed the wrong horse, but that’s just because they paid a ton of money for something that really isn’t worth it.

That’s not to say the PS3 won’t become a great console in the future. I’m sure it will. Of course it will. Remember when the PS2 was about to come out? It was hyped as being the greatest thing EVER. Better than Jesus, better than a cure for cancer, better than peace in the Middle East.

But when it did eventually arrive, everyone went ‘Yeah, it looks great and all that, but where are the games?’ Back then, the hype did the job it was supposed to do, which was completely kill the excellent and hideously over looked Dreamcast, one of the most spectacular consoles the world has ever seen and which was eventually bought by approximately 50 people.

PS3 or Xbox 360 (or even the Nintendo Wii)? The console wars rage ever on over on the message boards.

A quick game of Chu Chu Rocket anyone? Shameful the way that beautiful little grey box was treated. And it died a death all because of Sony’s aggressive marketing campaign.

I’m not saying the PS2 wasn’t a stunning machine. It was fantastic. It just took a year after the actual release of the bloody thing for anything vaguely decent and next gen to come out. Meanwhile, the kids are at home playing some crappy fireworks simulator pretending they’re having a great time.

The exact same thing is happening with the PS3, but this time it hasn’t worked anywhere near as well as Sony had expected. Firstly, the 360 came out and is as close to perfect as you can get. Don’t get me wrong, I may be in the employ of Microsoft to write this column, but there is no way I’m taking dirty money.

I am allowed to say exactly what I want to about any console or game. And you’ll see over the coming months that Xbox doesn’t get off scot-free. But even the biggest Playstation fan has to admit that the 360 is just great. And it had enough of a head start over Sony to actually tempt a few people away.

Then there was the ridiculous sale price for the PS3. Something like 70 billion million hundred pounds. I exaggerate slightly for piss poor comic effect, but you get the idea. Way over budget for your casual gamer. Even me, with my millions, wasn’t going to spend that much on it. Oh no, I got mine free. And I have used it precisely once.

And what the sodding hell is Blu-ray all about? That’s not even how you spell blue. It should have an ‘e’ at the end, B-L-U-E! Not Blu. Pathetic. Yes, it may have beaten HD DVD, a format I didn’t even know existed until the announcement that it was being withdrawn, but are people really going to dump their old DVD players to watch something that is a) only slightly better quality and b) more expensive?

I even got sent a free copy of Casino Royale when I registered my PS3 online, and I haven’t watched it out of protest. I lost big time in the great Betamax/VHS wars of the early 80s. Yes, I’m not ashamed to admit I backed totally the wrong horse then. I went for Betamax. Excellent quality but only 3 films available to rent.

Oh the shame of going into the then new video libraries and having to shuffle into a corner to spend literally seconds browsing through the Beta titles that were half-filling one tiny shelf.

And do you know what? It was Sony that got me a severe kicking on several occasions in school because I didn’t have VHS. For that reason, I shall certainly NOT be supporting another nancy boy, nonsense format that Sony have just made up in an attempt to look all clever and cool. No. Not again.

And don’t get me started on the online services. That’s a whole rant in itself. Suffice to say, one console offers a sublime, beautiful, wondrous, joyful online experience, while the other is guff. I’ll leave it to you to try and work out which is which.

Look, I’m not saying I’m never going to play PS3 again, all I’m saying is it’s going to take something pretty special to get me to try and find the controllers and start up the thing. It will happen, I just don’t know when.

So if you choose Sony or Microsoft its up to you, but I'm sticking to my 360...

Discuss.