Thursday, 27 November 2008

A Poo so big...

...that it's Colossal in size!

I hereby dedicate this blog to the memory of Colossal Poo, or Peter as he's known outwith the realms of the internet. The much-loved Irishman appeared on the Damnation Festival message boards for a number of years and lit up our lives with a plethora of amazing and brilliant posts.

Despite the fact that he has not once made it across to the festival in its four year history, he is revered nonetheless as a Damnation legend.

Sadly he has seen fit to abandon us, and last posted on Dec 11 2007. Fare ye well, Poo.

This, then, is a selection of the greatest posts he ever made:

-My name is Peter McCaughan and I just followed through.

-check out his bebo, it's hilarious 
had to stop heckling him when i realised he actually is gay. i don't know why that should make him exempt, but i don't think Mr. Bebo would take too kindly to it.

-tomorrow me and my flatmates have a hearing at the university - this awful bitch from the ground floor has made a number of complaints, the vast majority of which are complete (weird) lies. 
this is the woman who insists we called her a nigger. the white woman who insists that we called her a nigger...

-Whatever happened to the unbeatable double team of Danny DeVito and Arnold Scwarzenneger? 
Actually I think I can answer my own question in one word: 

-i thought this was going to be where we could all list a 'whatever happened to...' 
whatever happened to Vipers? you used to always hear about them - like, remote control cars would be called, like SUPER VIPER, or a fictional team in a cartoon soccer series might be called THE VIPERS. 
what ever happened to Vipers?

-my mum said she'd, very generously, give me £50 for new shoes... so i got £6 gola council estate specials from dunnes, then spent the rest on games and booze 

-can't go wrong with a butternut squash 
plus it's chunky enough to batter your bumrape victim to death afterwards, and you can eat the evidence, fucking brilliant 
i used to sell them

-once at a fozzy gig i got hammered and joined a backyard wrestling federation 
they liked my cowboy schtick

-i remember being pissed in my mate's bedroom when we were 14 or 15 listening to windowlicker, and at the appropriate bit miming spraying champagne everywhere 
his mum walked in and thought we were in the throws of some kind of mass fag act

-i won't even tell you about the time my sister walked in on us listening to It's Raining Men

-perusing the bank of films on ntl that you can rent out, with my better half, we discovered a whole genre of porn which i didn't know existed...
'chav porn' 
we decided it wouldn't make for a very romantic valentine's night but i can't lie, i'm a bit interested 
'stick those big hooped earings up my bum, with your tracksuit.... and your burberry cock'

-i had to wipe my ass with cheap tissues the other day (not toilet roll, tissues).... and before i spotted the tissues it was very, very, very nearly panty liners 
imagine that... a fanny pad up your arse, yowza

-apparently everyone in the world thinks i'm a dealer. EVERYBODY! 
not just drugs either, i get people calling me up looking for, well, mostly pills but often really dodgy porn and shit. is it the beard?! fuck knows.

-i wanna sell some homemade nerd shit to sell on ebay... 
like a sticker that says FIREWALL REBEL to stick to your laptop or whatnot 
i reckon it'd sell like hot cakes

-the topic this morning on the hilarious Jeremy Kyle show: 
my stomach ACHES from laughing

-my friend says that he'd rather have the semen of 6 men rubbed all over his face than eat their pubes. i think that is just obscene.

-one night when i was 15 i arrived home wearing only a purple thong and a pair of hobnail boots... from what i hear a policeman had to remove me from a tree.

-after a few ales i have a tendency to dress like an adult baby. it's not a fetish thing though, really. i've gotten two baby-sceptics into nappies too. 

-the other night i told some people that two of my friends were my brother and sister, then touched them erotically and told them some very dirty things.

-i also am quite good at yo yo - i once went on tour with Yo Hans. a tour of shopping centres.

-one time my friend wet the bed when he was about 13.... 
his mum asked if he'd had a wet dream. 
what the fuck kind of BEAST does she think he is?!?!??

-if his ass is really tight it'd be good when the laxatives eventually work - cos it'll all fire out with such tremendous pressure, like when you sort of squidge the end of a hose..... 
he could probably take someone's eye out... with his shit hahaha

-The voice of Starkweather in Manhunt is done by Brian Cox... my flatmate heard this and responded with 'aw wow! i love ANYTHING with cox in it!!' 
he'll never live it down.

-what the fuck... does newsround have prodigy for a theme now? oh no, it's an advert. 
last night my friend said he 'saw something on the news' about a really big burger... after a bit of cojoling he admitted it was actually Newsround.

-I used to be (and still have to some extent) utterly obsessive about our WK. 
i actually had a very cool WK t shirt but i ripped it in half when WK came on one night and i 'hulked out'. 
still wear it like, but now it says 'ANDREV K' because my mum sewed it up for me

-pepperami noodles phwwwoooooooaaaawwww, fucking awesome! 
last year i lived for a week on 2 packets of them, a packet of chilis and a jar of beetroot. 
on the last day, my friend came round and saw the squalor i was living in and bought me a loaf of bread. 
and some fags.

-actually once i drank a bottle of mouthwash.... but that was a silly night.

-i finally fixed my megadrive, and popped in micro machines 96.... 
you may remember that this game features a track editor, so you can design your own courses and race on them? 
Well, i thought i'd give it a bash... and made an outdoor course, with a ramp, a winding sorta feel, megafast cars and have it marked out with peas and other foodstuffs, like to show the edge of the 'road'. 
I called this track, 'POOWWERLD' 
Then i went to save it.... i nearly bust a gut laughing when it transpired that, when I had last played this game/used the track editor (i was probably about 12), I had also created a track called 'POOWORLD'. I booted the track up and lo and behold, it was very very very very nearly identical, save for a few extra twists and turns. 
I guess some things never change 

-i went into a toilet cubicle the other day, after a few pints, with a pen in one hand and my cock in the other (well i didn't get my cock out till i got inside the toilet... for once) 
but yes, my intention was to write 'JOHN CANDY' on the wall, in big letters 
i didn't tell a SOUL about this plan 
lo and behold, some cunt beat me to it. 
what are the odds of THAT?!?

-It's Not Normal! 
Our most recent game, and perhaps the simplest. Wherever you are, be it out for a coffee, sitting at home or out on the piss, it's great. Especially the latter. You simply do everything in a way that is contrary to the usual – for example, you might stand on your seat, or if someone holds out their hand for you to shake it, you might hold out your foot. 
Last week this game led us to dress in ridiculous costumes, buy some roses, piss in the girls' toilets, rearrange the furniture in the bar, swap clothes in the bar, wear nappies, talk to our penises and other such jollities. 
A simpler title for this game would be 'be a dick'. 

-He Got Tha Horn!
Is whenever you sing or play music out the window. It is particularly funny to rap, and rap about passers by, including their atire, company, etc. However, this game has gotten us into much trouble in the past. 
It got its name from when I played my saxophone out the window, and shouted that I 'had the horn'... some chinese tourists walked past and took photographs. They seemed very interested, pointing and sayin 'ooohh! he got tha horn!!!'

-He Got Tha Horn reached its apex whenever we saw a woman about to cross the road. We were rapping, innocently enough, 'yeahhh nigga cross the street, who ya gonna meet when ya cross the street, G?' 
Long story short, she lives in our building and told the landlord that we had tried to bully her into crossing the road whenever it was full of traffic, calling her a nigger. 
She's white. 

-37% of me is made entirely out of bees

-99.6% of me is a black man.

-unbelievably, a guy i know from bangor has my precious tape of 2 days worth of farting, with keyboard accompaniment, recorded with my Talkboy.

-To much hilarity, a pal of mine insisted one day that, were there such a tournament, he would be in the 'top 3 Goldeneye players in the WORLD'. 
Clearly this was a statement of such monumental bullshittery that, 'Robbie Best: World Goldeneye Champion' is now inscribed into the wall of every public cubicle we may venture into

-I spent my last 50p on 5 doughnuts today. That genuinely is my last 50p in the word, apart from the £1.21 in the bank.

-i'm usually unlucky with meeting celebreties.... har mar superstar called me a 'perverted cunt' 
then i boked on his shoes the bastard

-here's the first ever canine mutilator track, Shit Your Ass. It was recorded 6 or 7 years ago when i should have been revising for my GCSEs, which explains the line "i'm not doing revision, i'm nasty, i'm heavy metal, i'm going to eat your ass, i like digestive biscuits'. I think this one gets better towards the end.

-i did two funny pisses the other day in the bar 
the first one was in the gents, and there were 3 other people there who i didn't know, at the urinal 
so i started talking to my cock, calling it danny... telling danny that he had to be good and sick up some wee for me. then i decided that it wasn't going to be just any old danny, and started telling Mr.DeVito that he had to get back into his zip up house. 
then i left. 
half an hour later i did a wee in a cubicle in the fem toilets, but i kept (reasonably) quiet this time. but there was another boy with me, but we weren't being gay. 
i think by this point my sexy girl had decided that she hated me, although i think she's stopped hating me now.

-my dentist has the rather unfortunate name of 'Dr. Gay' 
'Hello? Hello, I'd like an appointment with Doctor Gay please' 
give me strength!

-my barber, well actually hairdresser, wasn't nice to me when i walked in with shoulder length hair but whenever she'd finished james deaning me she was rather nice 
that was a while ago though, it's getting long again 
(when i say james deaning me i mean she was giving me a bit of a quiff.... i don't mean she crashed my car)

-in school me and my friend pearce played Lactobaciliasidophili in a play about teeth, 'Revolt of the Foolish Molar'. 
It was seriously surreal... 
I was asked to play a molar, a much more high profile part, but asked if i could be a lactobaciliasidophili instead because we got to wear black, chant and spike our hair like cool bastards. 
i probably spelled those words wrong there too, i clearly know nothing about teeth

a gaggle of old men inevitably end up rolling down some sort of hill in a bathtub, being chased by nora batty (complete with rolling pin). 
for twelve fucking seasons.

-so i'm watching a young boy wave his wand around for a hairy man. 
i'm also watching Harry Potter.
Every time someone mentions 'He who cannot be named' i think of Gary Glitter! 

-once i went on holiday to york with my folks... they went and did the touristy things during the day, looked at a wall and stuff.... we split up after brek and met at dinner. 
they said, 'so pete, what all did you do today?' 
'i went to pizza hut buffet' 
'oh! and then what?' 
'uh... and then i met you....' 
I was there ALL day, was GREAT! had to poo in the middle, was scared in case they'd take my plate thinking i was gone, wiped extra fast.

-maybe a good question would be, has anybody had any really memorable shits? 
something seasonal springs to mind – for a few years in a row i did a poo after Christmas lunch and it was the kind where there is absoloutely NO wiping needed, whatsoever. 
what a present that was!

-I might also point out that I don't condone paedophilia but I do think that Gary Glitter is my favourite, as he takes it to brand new levels. 
The man gets thrown out of cambodia for bumming too many children... where it's pretty much LEGAL, then in Vietnam, where he's allowed to have sex with a 13 year old, he just HAS to push the boat out and get a 12 year old. 
He's passionate about the sport, I'll give him that. 
Seriously though, paedophilia isn't cool.

-Did you ever have 'The Phantom Shitter' ? 
At our school there was a jobby lying on the toilet floor one day, right in the middle, beside the sinks. It was such a big day, everyone was all 'have you seen it yet?!' 
I remember my joy as my friend Mark took me to look. 
I brought it up at a get-together one time, and a teacher there from another school said that it has happened at EVERY school he has EVER taught at. 
The Phantom Shitter.

-The worst place that you've ever done a poo? 
I think mine is in my turtles pants, age 7, moments before a saxophone lesson with a sexy 6th former. 
I did take some joy in lending the pants to my friend Peter Moffett to use as swimming trunks on holiday a year later. There's even a photo of him wearing them. And last I heard, they were sitting in Jonny Gaston's bedroom for some reason.

-I know a chap who used to 'collect farts' by trapping them in bottles in the bath. He has also talked at length about the dubious pleasures of putting 'bath bombs' underneath his testicles so that they 'go all fizzy'.

-Why does Snoop Dogg carry an umbrella? 
Fo' Drizzle.

-not a bad beard.... i see you decided to go for the below chin 'underbeard'.... for years i shaved that area, now i too embrace it. 

-Once when i was drastically underage I saw a KISS tribute band in Brighton called PISS and they had giant inflatable cocks that sprayed green goo all over the crowd, it was class as fuck and i pulled a hot 20 year old and decided that from that moment on I would always have a moustache. Then i got back to the hotel and my nose bled like a bastard, I'm not sure why this happened, but instead of cleaning it up I just took lots of photos and went to bed, all bloodied. Great stuff!

-i don't know if it's just where i live, but there does seem to be a wild lot of paedos! nearly everybody i know had one at their school.... 

I'ma go send him a message demanding that Poo re-enters our lives.

Tuesday, 25 November 2008

The triumphant return!

So this marks my first blog in nearly a month, and for that I can only apologise to my loyal readers. Sorry to both of you.

In that time I've had all sorts of nonsense happen, including my orchestration of Carcass' return to UK soil and having a builder round...

Now, the latter may seem like a non-event, but the man left a grave impression on me. In fact, short of tying me up and silencing my screams as he bummed me against a wall, a visit from the builder actually couldn't be any worse.

In short, we had a leaky roof. Chap had been out and after a look up his ladders and a Saturday of banging noises disturbing my mum from her Dallas DVDs, the guy declared he'd solved the problem. My auld man squared up with him and off he went.

You can imagine our surprise when the leak continued despite being several hundred pounds in repairs poorer. Quick on the phone, my dad arranged a day and time and as I was off my work that morning, it was left to me to deal with the guy.

Back up his ladders, another morning of banging and my usual inhospitable treatment, namely not offering a cup of tea in the British tradition. My missus takes issue with this but as I explained last week when the gas man was out - If you like tea and don't have the initiative to bring a flask with you, tough luck I say. I believe my exact words were; "I'm not his mum."

"That should be you, son. I've sealed the lead flashing and that should be enough to stop it. Before I go, is it alright if I use the toilet?"
"Of course."

Bringing a flask will be as much a requisite as bringing your own portaloo for any future builders, let me tell you.

After an unusually long time, the guy reappears and with a "Thanks" he takes his white van and naffs off. Glad to have the house to myself so I can laze about doing nothing in peace, I close the door and... wonder what that UNGODLY smell is?!

Wow. What I thought was my builder spending a quick penny was obviously a grubby old man doing a big sit-down poo. No wonder he took so long. Doesn't this break some strangers code? A slash is fine but surely a shit is out of bounds? Of course I wouldn't have OK'd it if I'd known he was dropping some kids off. Two fingers up the nose still isn't enough as I scramble to light a candle and retreat like this is a World War II frontline.

I need a few hours just to recover.

Much later all's well, I've had a good lunch and the candle I note upon return to the scene of the crime, is all burned out. There's no smell, but I do now notice some dirt marks on the floor. He's trailed something in - talk about crossing a line. The stuff won't shift, and so there's now a black mark on my bathroom floor. Brilliant. Could he not have cleaned this himself?

I'm mildly outraged. I sit down, ready myself for a wee jobby of my own, and ponder the state of Britain's manual labour industry. Builders running amok, pooing in people's bathrooms. Frankly, not on!

But then...


Or by way of an image, something like this:

What is this stuff on the underside of the toilet seat? There's a brown goo...

I cut my post-poo pee short as only possible in emergency situations - a lorry headed your way as you piss by the side of the road, shouts of "FIRE!" coming from outside a bathroom or the sudden realisation that a mad axe-man has just burst into your house - and jump up like I'm spring-loaded.

"Surely...not..." leaves my lips, as much to the builder himself wherever he is at this point, as to myself and the room at large.

Like inspecting a potential suitcase bomb, I cautiously lift the lid for a better look and instantly run through all the possibilites that explain this situation:

-He was eating a Nutella sandwich moments before using the toilet and some spread has transferred from his hands to the seat.

Erm... at that, I'm done. What else could it be? I'm praying to God, to Allah, to the fat elephant, that the guy is a messy fan of choc sarnies. With all my might, I'm praying. But the only way to guarantee peace of mind is to smell, and in a moment which I admit with hindsight could have been better thought through, I move in for a sniff...


As I'm stood there unsure whether to wipe my own arse first or continue with horrible job, a wad of Wet Wipes in hand, ever-so-gingerly wiping another man's faeces off my toilet seat and near crying like a mother testifying in a murder trial, I stand back every now and again and utter the words "What the fuck?" in an increasingly irate and confused tone. "WHAT THE FUCK? WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?"

The roof has since leaked but I refuse to have that man set foot in my house again. I'd rather we actually drowned before I see him.

No wonder he can't seal a roof when he can't wipe his own arse properly. Grotty bastard.