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[29 Nov 2004|08:52am] |
Last night I got it back...the LOTR jokey funny side. Suddenly the whole thing became a chortling SHAM in front of my merry eyes. Ha! See the joke? No. I'm sorry if you're a fan and those skits come across as a fucking cheeky messing about with your favourite film. Hang on, no i'm not. I love the films. I just also like grinningly stupid absurdity.
Oh, no...look..a ball in the water...wonder how that got there! In completely unrelated news lads...Saruman's in that tower, but we don't have to talk to him....for some reason....
I got no drunker than a cosy old nanny last night. And so there is little to report. In that case, I decided to write some old bollocks about Middle Earth instead.
More of that soon.
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[29 Nov 2004|09:34am] |
Scene: (Camera is knocking about over the mountains...and er we hear Ganders givin' it some)
Gandalf: (Distant) You cannot pass! Unless you ever use those wings...and if you do...well don't! Otherwise i'll look really fucking stupid!
Frodo: (Distant) Gandalf! We're nearly at the bar! What you having?
Gandalf: (Distant) Guess...everything...I am going to get so fucking wankered...yeah...anyone fought a balrog? No...ME! I have! This is fucking amazing!
(Camera continues..flies through that bloody hole SOMEBODY forgot to close up.)
Gandalf: (Off screen) Get out of it...you can't even lash properly...you've got a whip the size of a galaxy, and you can't hit a man two feet away...LOSER! (Camera enters Moria.) Go on...bugger off!
(Gandalf slams his staff on the old tiles, brilliantly assuming it would only break the bit the balrog's on...the ol' oversized cat falls down...and at the most luckless moment for Ganders..actually hits...getting his leg..)
Boromir: What's that you were saying, Ganders? Oh wait..I suppose this is all bad and everything.
Frodo: Gandalf! You've got my wallet! How am I going to pay for a round?
(Boromir holds Frodo back.)
Gandalf: Tell 'em to put it on the account.
Frodo: Noo!! Gandalf! They only do it for regular stumbling drunks! That's you!
(The camera follows Gandalf and the Balrog as they fall, fighting and stuff...Gandalf bashing away with his sword...the balrog slamming flaming fists about...eveuntually they get bored falling so far and get out big armchairs and a televsion, and watch a DVD of the film they're in anyway, going "That bits not right!" and smoking big cigars. The most comfortable pitched battle ever, whilst falling to deaths. Eventually they slam into the water at the very base of Moria.)
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( Emyn Muil)
(Frodo awakens in shock, and looks at his watch. Mickey Mouse's hand points to seven, and his tail to six.)
Frodo: Gandalf! You've still got a drink in! (Rises on one shoulder.)
Sam: Mr Frodo! You alright? Have some of this! It'll make you feel a little less scared!(Offers Frodo a small cake...Frodo pushes it away.)
Frodo: I'm alright....get that fucking cake off me..if anything I want something that isn't sweet...that won't really stop me being hungry. (Blinks a bit...) Just remembered that whole drink accounts debacle. Gandalf owes me big time.
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~~~The Two Towers~~~
(Frodo and Sam knock about amongst a load of massive rocks.)
Sam: (Looks at Mordor.) Doesn't that place always look closer than it is? I suppose it's perspective or something. I bet that volcanoe's really massive! Like a planet! Or a giant hand. Or a storm.
Frodo: How the FUCK did I get lumbered with you.
(Frodo checks out the eye.......it causes him to go all mad and grab the ring.)
Sam: It's that bloody ring, isn't it?
Frodo: No, Sam. I'm coming down with a fucking cold! Of course it's the sodding ring! It's heavier than a seal clubbing documentary directed by Al Capone.
(Sam and Frodo sit. Frodo takes a long drink from his water flask.)
Frodo: What food have we got left? Anything? Not that fucking "cake"
(Sam looks in his pack..)
Sam: I've got more of that bread wrapped in leaves.
(Sam chucks some over...Frodo breaks a piece off and munches on it, trying not to show how fucking dry it is..)
Sam: It's alright this stuff! Almost as good as crisps.
Frodo: I think it's like eating dry crumbly bricks, and about as flavoured.
(They sit and chortle, doing wanker signs at the bread and saying "stupid yeast loving cunt elves!", scratching Elrond's face into the mud and kicking it. "Sullen CUNT!", "Sobering tosser!")
Sam: Raining over there, mate.
(They piss about in mist and bleakness for a while.)
Sam: This looks strangely familiar.
Frodo: Well, one faceless jutting of rock can look very much like another. A bit like ball pools...all look the same.
Sam: Something stinks around here.
Frodo: I'm tempted to assume it's you. (He pauses, looks fearful.) We're not alone.
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[29 Nov 2004|10:14am] |
Well, to celebrate the yet again sooner oncoming of Yuletide, here's a mental looking raccoon with a tray of fucking snacks, slagging off Christmas:
Glinting eyed prick. None of these in England you know.
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| Christmas with felines. |
[29 Nov 2004|10:23am] |
You know, taking a quick search through the net for these two things raises the mirth metre somwehat. It's heartening to know that upon the drawing in of cold nights, leftover turkey, and family arguments, cats will take no notice whatsoever, of the Xmas season, apart from noticing and fucking about with the Christmas tree.
Christmas is one thing, and one thing only to mogs. Seeing how best to ignore everything except big spiny fucking cunts like this:
Full blown fight. The cats have been waiting all year, and now they've ambushed tree, paws everywhere. It's like a violent feline festive tree orgy. More in a minute.
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[29 Nov 2004|10:29am] |
These two have clearly been dragged out of bed on a cold, sunny winter's morning for this pose. They're just not interested. Like two recruits in a boot camp that have been dragged out of bed at 5am. The tree is being utterly ignored too.
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[29 Nov 2004|10:42am] |
This bastard appears to feel nothing in the presence of such bears. He sits across both, like a log over a fucking stream. If only the bears were real.
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| Hats and cats. |
[29 Nov 2004|10:46am] |
You can always bet that when adorned with a hat by a chortling but well meaning camera happy human, cats will endeavour to look more pissed off than ever. This is anger in a bottle.
He is thinking the word CUNTS. You can tell.
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[29 Nov 2004|10:52am] |
Sat there at the bar, cars rushing past the window...kicking my toes against the wood slightly, shifting on the stool, and then crossing my legs and staring at the clock. Taking my tobaccos...I eased the pouch open and in the other hand slipped a rizla paper from within it's green slender package...I rolled it haphazardly as usual, taking time to distract myself by staring about.
I looked at everything...the guarded faces not interested slightly in my humanity...the flashing fruit machine complete with cru cutted man with arm in sling...and the wooden floor slightly shining underfoot.
Nothing but pubs...another night staring at bar towels and i'd be smothering myself with one and smashing my own head in with a pint glass.
Things would have to change.
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[29 Nov 2004|11:28am] |
And so let's give thanks this morning to the union between nonplussed cat and that molten box of nauseating pleasantries and exchanges of sellophane wrapped shit that we call Christmas.
I'm fucking off to work now, to indulge my menial bones in the cultured art of picking old vegetable from the drainhole of a sink, and sighing. Upon my return I may briefly update.
Yes I do know. Check your inbox. Not quite finished yet.
You lot still here? Go and look at those festive padded fucks!
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