Bro-Science . . You Really Can Make This Shit Up!!

THE ABULATOR BY US FOR YOU!!!!!!

Let us cut to the chase.  I have a fantastic invention that hit the market last week and is selling like hot cakes . . .healthy ones of course.

How would you like to have 6 pack abs in 2 weeks?

Well here at Ab-U-Like we are now able to buy the latest Abulator II.

The Abulator II actually increases the body's ability to build solid muscle in 28.7 minutes.  It does this by hightening crentallin mesaphotyte production from the adipose tissue, which dissolves fat like soap killing bubbles in your bubble bath (we don't know how that works, I mean bubbles are made of soap so how does soap do it?  Witchcraft is what our scientist believe).

My Body Is Deluded

I have no full-length mirrors in my house as I believe they are the work of the devil and are not to be trusted, much like cameras, they lie.  They lie like a teenager (if you are a teenager reading this stating "I don't lie", I have four words for you fuck off, you liar).  Each time I gaze upon my body in one of these demon spawned contraptions they show me a woman who is in dire need of either owning no mirrors in her house, a job with Michelin as a demo or maybe, just maybe some exercise.

I’m prejudiced. Don’t laugh: You are too.

We all like to think of ourselves as being open-minded, unbiased and non-judgemental, reacting to people and events based purely on their merits. Well excuse my French, but that’s bullshit. 

By his very nature, Man instinctively categorises what he sees in order to make sense of his surroundings and thus define his behaviour. It’s what stops you kissing your boss (except at Christmas parties), throwing out food rather than cooking it, and driving on the left when you’re on the Continent.

Sure, this intrinsic drive to understand our environment is also what leads us to mistake harmless shadows and innocuous noises for monsters come to devour us in our beds. But it’s better to have a few petrified children than mistaking your food for rubbish or having your boss thinking you fancy a shag.

The Joys of Facebook or as I like to put it “Face-Fuckers-Facelesss-Facade-Of-Friends”

Facebook, when I first heard of it in 2009 thought it a brilliant step from “Friends Reunited” in finding and catching up with old chums and past loves from aeons ago. Little did I know this innocent foray into finding folk could end up with me reading and being pulled into some insane, world spread typographical faceless war.  Before I proceed, I have been one of the arseholes I talk about below, for that I humbly and truthfully apologise.  I do, now, try and avoid emotionless jibber-jabber. . . .

#PrayFor[yet another city]

I look forward to the day when we no longer need #prayfor or #livesmatter hashtags any more.

But first we need to get our shit in order.

Weird dream (but aren't they all?)

I think I’ve finally cracked.

This afternoon, sitting in my favourite chair in the lounge, I fell asleep for two hours. That isn’t the reason I think I’ve lost it. I’m sure that many sane people have two-hour naps. Some maybe sleep for longer. Although I suspect the mean is somewhere around 30-60 minutes (with a standard deviation of I can’t fucking remember how to do statistics, you should have asked me that about 30 years ago).

Or is it the median? I never could tell averages, means, modes and medians apart.

Anyway, it was whilst sleeping that I had the weirdest dream.

Shitty Christmas

That Christmas was probably the only one I ever lost weight. And yet it had all started so normally.

We were at my mum's house, and although we hadn't yet reached the pinnacle of Yuletide gluttony – Christmas Day lunch – we had in the previous days each consumed our body weight in biscuits, cake and chocolate, avidly encouraged by my mother, who patently laboured under the misconception that food either hadn't been invented outside her house or simply wasn't unavailable.

Jehovah’s bogeymen

“Excuse me, do you live round here?” the man asked me anxiously.

“I just thought I’d warn you,” he half-whispered, pointing down the street. “The Jehovah’s Witnesses are going door to door.”

I had noticed them, of course; a huddle of six people in plain but smart clothing, the women with modest handbags and flat-soled shoes, the men in cheap, grey suits, earnestly clutching bound bibles or notebooks. Standing by the entrance to a block of flats, I had mistakenly believed them to be waiting for a bible study class, even though it was a Thursday morning. But no, they were much worse. Or so this man thought.

“All it takes is some old, defenceless person, and they’ll get them to sign anything!” he said dramatically, his eyes fixed on the innocuous group standing patiently outside the building.