Filed under: bad boy, being alive, comedy, comedy writing, culture, funny, girl humour, humour, lad humour, life, love, new ideas, opinion, perspective, philosophy, random, society, stupid thoughts, the asshole, thought for the day, thoughts, toilet humour, writing | Tags: bad boy, being alive, comedy, comedy writing, culture, dick jokes, funny, gay humour, lad humour, lad stuff, life, literary journalism, men behaving badly, opinion, perspective, philosophy, random, random stuff, society, stupid, stupid stuff, stupid thoughts, thought for the day, toilet humour
Toilet paper illustrators should have more fun. For one, they have a niche little corner of the market to play around with yet spend their time working on Christmas trees or cute little animal designs to print on toilet paper. Get an image of a puppy dog, and then cover it in shit. Not so cute after all, eh? I propose printing little tongues or noses, indented and poised to lick and sniff. Why not have a sense of humour about it? Ask anyone what illustrations they have on their toilet roll and you’d likely score a blank – which is a good thing, coz if you’re shopping specifically for toilet paper illustrations then your life is over.
DT
Filed under: bad boy, being alive, comedy, comedy writing, culture, fraud, funny, girl humour, girls, homeless people, humour, journalism, lad humour, life, love, office humour, opinion, perspective, philosophy, random, serious stuff, society, stupid thoughts, thought for the day, thoughts, toilet humour, writing | Tags: literary journalism, comedy writing, life, humour, thought for the day, culture, opinion, perspective, philosophy, society, random, stupid thoughts, being alive, stupid, random stuff, lad humour, stupid stuff, lad stuff, bad boy, men behaving badly, getting old, funny
Every city has bums begging for change – fact. Sometimes I give and sometimes I don’t. There’s no hard and fast rule for me in dealing with bums other than to try and momentarily work out if this person is really in need of help or just a lazy bum who has dropped out of society. How does one go about actively becoming a bum anyway? I have often fantasised about turning up one day in an unfamiliar city and just sitting on the pavement amongst soiled chewing gum, rolling up cigarettes and slowing growing one big flat dreadlock.
I do give change to drug addicts – and yes, I know they will buy drugs with it. All judgement aside, here’s a guy begging for change in the rain under an ATM machine. There’s no dignity here and his life is evidently far, far shittier than mine so I can spare a few coins to ease my own guilt if nothing else.
We’ve all heard the same stories before, and you may begrudge this bum some change for a meal or a bed for the night, but would you begrudge him a dump? With public toilets in London now charging between 20p – 50p, where does a homeless man take a crap? I may not care if this guy starves to death or sleeps in a bus shelter but I don’t want him having to take a shit in a multi-story car park. Come on, give the guy a break and give generously. When was the last time you had to take a shit on tarmac?
DT
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Where do pens go? Is there a lost island of biros somewhere?
In the days when I had a regular office job, I could never keep the same cheap black biro pen for one week straight. I’m like a smoker with a 20 a-week habit, only instead of bad breath and yellow fingers I’ve got half a dozen black plastic pen tops on my desk. Wherever they go they obviously don’t need their tops.
I went through a stage of thinking the cleaning lady was taking my pens and squeezing out the black ink to use as hair dye (why else would she need 20 pens a week?). I then worked out that pens, just like gossip, must do the rounds of the office, and surely – according to some natural law of lost stuff – they will end up back in my hand eventually. I secretly marked my pens but they never came back. Eaten somewhere by something that lives in a dark corner of the office at night!!
Is stuff ever even lost anyway? It’s lost to us and found to other people. Everything has to be somewhere, so where are my pens?
DT
Filed under: bad boy, being alive, comedy, comedy writing, culture, funny, girl humour, girls, journalism, lad humour, life, love, opinion, perspective, philosophy, random, serious stuff, society, stupid thoughts, the asshole, thought for the day, thoughts, toilet humour, writing | Tags: bad boy, being alive, comedy writing, culture, dick jokes, drunken humour, funny, lad stuff, life, literary journalism, love, men behaving badly, opinion, perspective, philosophy, random, random stuff, serious stuff, society, stupid, stupid stuff, stupid thoughts, thought for the day, toilet humour, weirdos
Brain cells, brain cells. I’m sick of hearing about how clever and efficient the brain cells are. When it comes down to efficiency, you can’t beat the anus cell for work ethic.
All biological cells in the human body are universal and define themselves and their job by those cells around them. They all contain the required elements to determine what they should become and apply themselves accordingly. Isn’t that amazing? This means each and every cell is capable of doing anything it’s asked to do. If you’re assigned to work downstairs in the rusty bullet hole then you’re an anus cell. If you’re in the left ear shoveling earwax then you’re an ear cell – simple.
What a utilitarian paradise our bodies are. There’s work for all; no unemployment; no need for unions; one wage for all; and no need for holiday leave. Our cells do everything they’re asked without any tea breaks and never complain about the long hours. The brain is the boss, and would probably have a large human resources section where all new cells report for their first day at work. A new young cell turns up for his first day at work in his dad’s suit with clean socks on. The conversation would go something like this:
New Cell: Hello. I am a new cell reporting for work today.
Human Resources Cell Manager: Hello young cell. You are to report to the supervisor in the Anus this morning. Do you know how to get there?
New Cell: Yes. I know a blood cell that is car pooling and is leaving on the jugular express this morning for the Anus.
New Cell (later that morning): Hello Anus Cell Supervisor, I am a new cell reporting for work.
New Cell Supervisor: Yes, good morning son. Please get into that astronaut suit over there and go to the Svinkter where there’s a pile of brussel spouts that need turning into shit.
… And that’s his job for seven years. Every seven years, each of the trillions of cells in your body will replace themselves, so this little anus cell will drop dead at work and a new one fills his boots silently and automatically on a continuous basis until you eventually drop dead.
We could all learn a thing or two from the Anus cell about efficiency at work.
DT
