Posted in: Short 'n Curlies by Si Spurrier | Tagged: short and curlies, si spurrier

Short 'n Curlies #23 by Si Spurrier

Apparently it's Christmas.

Sheltered as I am from such festive frippery in my sticky saunapit of meat-flavoured bitterness; sick as I am with the taste of a billion badly-cooked and overpriced turkeys; poor as I am with the fading expectation of Big And Awesome Presents (having already announced my inability to buy anybody anything half decent in return); and overworked as I am with the effort of keeping a faint and endlessly-fading sneer of guilty negative energy on your sodding face via this sodding column, I'm seriously tempted to blow off the whole ridiculous Saturn-worshipping, Winter-murdering, Mistletoe-poisoning, King-For-A-Day-Sacrificing, Reindeer-Gobbling, Astronomically-Impossible-Star-In-The-Sky-Spotting, Baby-Being-Born-In-Some-Nowhere-Fucking-Town-In-The-MiddleEast-Celebrating pile of glitter-draped drek.

But I probably won't. Probably I'll be up to my frosty little tits in family, fun, food and fucking terrible boardgames, loving every last minute, gorging on Turkish Delight, wearing a silly hat, and warming my crinkled little raisin of a heart with the sure and certain knowledge that the psychedelic offspring of the Divine Being — in an altruistic act of ultimate suffering — clothed himself in human form, was born to a hymen-sporting lass in a pigsty 2000 years ago, did a few slightly uninspiring miracles, chucked a bunch of moneylanding nobjockeys out of a temple and conspired to get himself ritually murdered: all for the glorious goals of a) Saving The Human Race From Its Own Sin, b) inventing tinsel, and c) permitting me the right to read diabolical jokes from inside Christmas Crackers and Not Be Killed.

My favourite:

Q. Why does Rupert The Bear wear chequered trousers?

A. Because he's a cunt.

Anyway, in the spirit of a truly Short'n'Curly Holiday, as an antidote to any dangerously high levels of Cheer and Love you might be tempted to feel in the course of your Seasonally-Inspired Religious Festival Of Choice, I've tuned-into that Fine Christmas Tradition of The End Of Year Clipshow. Verily I shall skive-off from real work by taking old material, giving it a polish, dressing it up in brightly-coloured wrapping, then fucking off down the pub with the proceeds.

And so I give you, as culled from the meaty fun of Twitter's @SISPURRIER feed, in the form of 140-character LOATHEBULLETS:

This Year I Have Been Mostly Hating:

1. Open-mouthed gum chewers. Many species generate sounds in mouth and throat to attract a mate. You attract only stabbing.

2. UGG boots. Severed Yeti-legs; make cute girls look fuckwitted; impractical at this latitude since 8,000BC. WHY WHY WHY

3. The lack of appreciation for the mighty Twiglet on my side of the pond and its utter anonymity on the other. GASTROFAIL.

4. Shit visual puns in TV news. "Cabinet Reshuffle" = Croupier dealing cards. "Brown Under Pressure" = turd under anvil.

5. The concept of "Government Think Tanks". If BRAINMAKINGS = CASH, every introspective morning turd is worth billions.

6. The prevalence of twinkly whimsical folksy wankmusic in ALL modern TV advertising: True cause of the spending downturn.

7. Those who use cellphones as status symbols. Go buy the NEW DOGPIZZLE-5000, with ergonomic cockshape & forehead attachment

8. HATING OF THE DAY: The proximity of "call hostess" to "reading light". Takeoff is fraught enough, fucker, without the BONGBONGBONG of FAIL.

9. Anyone with a handgun which a) doesn't have awesome red fins, or b) can't be set to "stun". HATEBULLETS ARE ALL YOU NEED.

10. The inexplicable lack of Total Cosmic Heatdeath every time someone refers to a footballer as a "Role Model For Kids."

11. The type who owns a fruitbowl containing only lemons. Nobody knows why this is a sure sign of evil. It just is.

12. The phrase "I chose to stop existing, and start living." Do us all a favour: choose to stop doing both.

13. Non-Relevant Celebrity Endorsements. Rolf Harris advertising wallaby-farms? WIN. Rolf advertising car insurance? F'KOFF.

14. The Cellphone Shift. It used to be annoying that people are always able to pester you. Now it's annoying that they don't.

15. He who really thinks World Shitosity will end when Osama's napalm-fresh balls are paraded in the Tupperware of Victory.

16. Personal-space invaders. Your halitosis has offended me for the last time, fuckoid: I'M WEARING RADIOACTIVE Y-FRONTS.

17. Starting a sentence "For me, personally…" As in: "For me, personally, scrotal-slicing with sharp lemons is too lenient."

18. Those who truly think the phrase "he moves in mysterious ways" is an acceptable reason for hateful, ugly things happening.

19. Yes, o lover, demonstrate your affection via severed moribund blooms which will perish for my amusement. LUV=FLORICIDE.

20. The movie "Love Actually", and any protoplasmic smudge masquerading as a human who claims to like it. CELLULOID CANCER.

21. The Chitchat Nemesis who — having blown his nose — plugs both nostrils with hanky-covered fingers and Rotates To Clean.

22. The way the "and finally" news gets more asinine according to how dreadful the "real" news is. ATOMIC HERPES=CUTE KITTEN

23. The morning cull of fat/drowsy mosquitoes, which would be fun if it wasn't effectively me bleeding on the walls by proxy.

24. Those who quote philosophers in normal chitchat. "When you stare into pretentious twattism, the twattism stares also…"

25. "Ooh, the red ones are so pretty and endangered. But ooh, those nasty greys ones are vermin." SQUIRREL RACISM.

26. Retarded cack-handed emphasis in composite nouns. "Garlic BREAD," "Fire ENGINE," etc. Dead giveaways of a huge dickHEAD.

27. The link between arse and brain, which vacuum-seals my sphincter at the merest chance someone might overhear The Splash.

28. People who put effort into predicting punchlines while listening to jokes. Q:Why Did The Wanker Get Stabbed In The Face?

29. Anything with tassels (which is not a boob).

30. Coincidentalists. "I was thinking of Tim, then he rang me! Spooky!" Yeah? I was just thinking about you being set on fire

31. The huge pituitary freak (with hair that smells of wee) whose mutant power is Standing In Front Of Me At All Gigs Ever.

32. Jellyfish. God's used condoms, bobbing in the toilet of shame. "Ha! I gave you a mild sting, tourist!" BUT ARE YOU HAPPY?

33. Antiracist fuckwittery. "You can't describe him as 'that black guy!'" "But he's surrounded by white guys." "You RACIST."

34. The sexualising of Cats in petfood commercials. Soft-lighting, husky voices… THIS IS WHY GOMORRAH BURNED, PEOPLE.

35. Pandas. IF YOU WILL NOT FUCK, WE CANNOT HELP YOU. "But they're so cuddly!" Yeah? So was Idi Amin.

36. Novels which messily crowbar the title into the text. "Even as he spaffed he mused that this truly was…The Wankiest Day."

37. Punctuation Crime apologists. "But language EVOLVES, man." Yes, but your ancestors will not, for I have given you cancer

38. The way that the sun's Hair-Growth-Speeding vitamin-whateverthefuck power has manifested primarily inside my nostrils.

39. The shitwit who sits RIGHT BESIDE YOU in an empty park to make a phonecall. (Defeat him by touching yourself and sobbing)

40. The Adam's Apple. If I'd wanted a freaky-feeling mutant knuckle sticking out of my fucking neck, I would've asked. Kthnx.

41. The word "irregardless". As in "irregardless of you torturing the English language, I remain calm. BY GIVING YOU CANCER."

42. Dolphins. On the 8th day God had a load of SMUG left over, so he gave it form and sent it forth to Rape and Annoy.

43. Sympathy drunkards. Your outrageousness is even less convincing than your "I don't need booze to have a good time".

44. Lick-seal envelopes. "I *would*'ve sent a card, but — risking TONGUE PAPERCUT HORROR — decided I just didn't care enough"

45. Reaching the age when birthday presents go from Things You Want to Things You Need. "A bike helmet. Thanks. No, really."

46. The alarming ubiquity of the word "cunt", and the lack of a conversation-killing CussNuke to replace it.

47. People who confuse the word "specific" with THE LARGEST OCEANIC BODY OF WATER ON THIS MOTHER EARTH arg arg HATE OVERLOAD

48. Job-quotes from Esoteric Professionals. "Yes, Oh Mechanic, I know you're scamming me. No, I can't fucking fix it myself."

49. The child who stares from the The Car Ahead with ageless malevolence. ONE DAY YOU WILL DISTRACT ME FROM BRAKING, FOOLBRAT

50. Urban spitting. 200k yrs without evolutionary change and you, o pubeless juve, decide my shoe beats the swallow reflex?

51. Unconvincing Liars. It is not your fuckwitted crime that dooms you, but your inability to entertainingly disguise it.

52. People who think negativity is unhealthy. Opposite is true: your cheery fuckery will get you stabbed. JOY THROUGH HATE.

53. Visual dieters. "I can't eat that! It still looks like a fish!" May the arsebits in your reshaped disguisemeat choke you.

54. Gitwits who think their mutant pitbulls make them look doublehard. I EMASCULATE YOU VIA PUBLIC CUDDLING OF YOUR CUTE PET.

55. "Pretend sculpture" buskers. Why pay to see you move? The TALENT is in standing still! You're doing it for free, fuckwit!

56. The word "moist".

57. Those whose mouth-corners accumulate frothy lipsnot. They are Karmic enemies of coherent conversation. WIPE FOR VICTORY.

58. Those who mistakenly think cafes exist for socialising and noisy chitchat, rather than lonely, resentful, SILENT work.

59. The phrase "At The End Of The Day", used to sync slow brain with big mouth. "At the end of the day, I'm still a twunt."

60. Rising inflections in non-query sentences. In a Californian: merely annoying. In a Londoner: PREPARE THE SCROTAL FLAILS.

61. People who keep invertebrates as pets on the grounds that "AK-shully they're rrrreally affectionate." Rapists-in-waiting.

62. Those who confuse quantity of exclamation marks with relative level of Funny. (P.S: More than 2 signifies brainsickness.)

63. Affluent pram-pushers who confuse Number Of Brats with relative levels of entitlement. "No manners needed, I HAVE SPAWN."

64. Lawyers.

65. Male models. Androgynous stubble-dodgers whose Abs look eerily familiar to anyone who's ever sliced the teats off a sow.

66. The seemingly robust reasons for No Jog Today, which will nonetheless turn to stabbity guilt during tonight's drunken KFC.

BrainFart:

Brussel's Sprouts.

Frogs' bollocks.

You've always known it, you just chose to pretend.

Merry whatnot, all.

Find Me @:

Twitter: @SiSpurrier

WWWebbage: www.simonspurrier.blogspot.com

Send wurdz, thoughts, stories, Hatings, and Pigs In Coffins to the Only Checked Occasionally And I Might Not Bother Replying At All Ha Ha Ha email address:

Contact@Chop-This-Bit-Outsimonspurrier.co.uk

Or the It Might Not Get To Me At All But If It Does I Promise To Recycle It snailmail address:

C/O William Christensen,

Avatar Press
515 N. Century Blvd.Rantoul, IL 61866
(Disclaimer: Secretly, I'm nice.)

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