Finally The Clown Has A Good Idea.

A bus stop poster near my house proclaims, 'eat like a king, not a clown,' and if you ask me, no marketing declaration since
'they're waffly versatile' has been more appropriate. Seriously, you could grill them, bake them, fry them AND eat them.

Anyway, Burger King. They rule the fast food world with their King Fries and their massive flame grilled burgers, and now they know how to do a PR campaign too, unlike McDonalds. Apparently, McDonalds put the word out that anyone who wrote a rap about a Big Mac would get a prize or something. And the amount of urban poems submitted? Zero. Paying Pharrell Williams a few million dollars to write you a jingle is one thing, but trying to be all street by getting the kids to rap about your food is...Well, you can fill in the blank.

Burger King's PR company ought to pat themselves on the back for this poster, because despite their flame grilled flavour being basically painted onto their, ahem, beef patties, they taste deee-licious and I want one now. I couldn't care less what they're made of. I'd take an XL Bacon Double Cheeseburger over a Quarter Pounder any day, and you should too, even if you're a vegetarian. Sadly though, Burger King's epicurean dominance doesn't begin until exactly 10.30am Monday to Saturday and 11am on Sunday.

That's because McDonalds stop serving breakfast then. If I was on death row for crimes against, I don't know, fashion or something (let's not get too morose), my last meal request would, I kid you not, be a Double Sausage & Egg McMuffin. Really. I don't think there's a better realised use of offal and grease anywhere in the world.

I've often wondered why McDonalds insist on abandoning their culinary pièce de résistance, as the Japanese say, every morning in favour of food that can only be described as utter filth. I'm not loving it.

So when I read that McDonalds are thinking about serving breakfast all day I nearly McSoiled myself. Goodbye toes.

Questions

I have questions:

Back in 1990, Snap had the power. What did they do with it?

2Unlimited knew no limits, so how come their pop career was so limited?

How come all herbal tea tastes bitter and fruitless, despite smelling delicious and exactly like the fruit it purports to contain?

What did she look like with a chimney on her?

Why aren't Olympic champions called Lords of the Rings?

How come not one of the scenarios in Alanis Morrissete's song are remotely ironic?

Why is the carrot considered the smartest of all the vegetables?

What does 'tomorrow never knows what it doesn't know too soon' mean?

How come everyone who crosses their arms into an X shape on X Factor is certain to be rubbish?

Wouldn't all things be cheap at half the price, assuming the initial price is reasonable?

How come I've never found 50 Cent in any club?

Why is Kerry Katona on the front cover of every issue of OK! Magazine?

Why is Kerry Katona famous, again?

How come Jay Kay forgot he was a hippy as soon as he could afford his first Ferrari?

How come there's no smart thinking inside the box?

Think on.

Gonna Cry Now

This story is old now, but I thought I'd spread the joy here because I was happy when I read it. If you can't be bothered with it, basically the story goes that one of the statues commissioned for Rocky III (three statues were made) has been placed back where it belongs, on top of the steps which lead to the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Some of the Philly art stiffs, though, have branded it a mere movie prop, arguing it doesn't belong among proper art.

That's all well and good, but I bet they'd consider it art if it depicted a fat woman with a tail and a horse's head and was sculpted out of fossilised cat cack. Plus, I'd guess the statue already has, and will continue to, bring more visitors to the museum than any of the real art inside.

So Fifi and Trixibelle are choking on their organic berets now, but it's nothing that chopping a cow in half won't solve. If I was a thoughtful writer I'd say something terribly cheesy about another triumph for the underdog, but I'm just not that good.

Beard Science Trilogy Pt.3

About a week ago I realised that there were two ridiculous things happening in my life, both of which I should be embarrassed about. Firstly, I was growing a beard and secondly, I was writing about it in the public domain. This was indicative of a fundamental, albeit short-term boredom problem.

I was at work the other day, bored an scratching my face, when it dawned on me that not only was I indulging in a sport both painful and ugly, but I was gleefully documenting it as though it was in some way entertaining to anyone. Plus, as well as actively promoting my strawberry blonde heritage to everyone, it led me to a new and entirely unwanted milestone; grey.

Indeed, on the right side of my chin, just below my mouth, was confirmation of my ever-relinquishing youth. My wife spotted it first, and for days I tried to convince her it was an 'albino hair' until I spotted another, then another, then another. Added to black, brown, ginger and blond, grey was just too much - the beard had to go.

So it did. I took some photos on my phone, but the grainy quality and toplessness made them look a bit, well, creepy, so I deleted them. I couldn't, however, resist doing this, which I've posted as a kind of punishment to myself for being so moronic as to bother writing about having some facial hair for a couple of weeks. Is there nothing more interesting or noteworthy in my life? The photo's funny though, what?

This episode, as well as a conversation with my homie D Dawg in McDonalds, has prompted me to reconsider my presence on the blogsphere (I think that's what proper internet people call it) so I'm thinking I might shift my page elsewhere and go underground. Let's be honest, unless I'm living in the celebrity hyperreality nobody cares what I do or what I think. Maybe I'll apply for Big Brother next year.

You'll find a picture of me in all my bearded splendor here if you want. Initially I posted the picture on this page, but it was a bit weird seeing myself so I took it off. And so it ends.

Beard Science Trilogy Pt.2

You know, you think of something ridiculous to blog about and it seems like a great and novel idea until you realise it'll be really boring. Growing a beard is one such thing.

It's a bit longer, obviously, but at the moment I look like I've been hit with an uglier stick than normal. Itchiness is minimal thus far, although I'm still in the shadow zone in which you can see my beard but the hairs haven't grown enough to start doubling back into my face like ginger torpedos.

I won't put the pictures up yet because they're embarrassingly similar and make me feel like less of a man, but you'll see them all in good time. Don't cry.

Actually, to be honest I'm thinking you should just leave and go here instead. At least he's got something to say.

Bye for now.