DR HAMHOCK

NEW HOME

2011-05-08T22:30:00.000+01:00

Dear Patient,

I (do not) regret to inform you that I have moved to a brand new surgery (in a less pikey area) down the road at the following address:

http://snoozenight.com/

I pass on my best regards and luck in this age of postcode lottery / online health advice and hope you will join me for a medical or even a prostate examination at my new premises.

In the interests of freedom of information, all records will be kept here on file for the forseeable future.

Kind regards

Dr HamHock MD

Nuggets

2011-03-14T22:07:00.000Z

Keep going 24/7 like a perpetual Boeing 747.

Humans are a species of monkeys with over-developed ego glands.

FACT: The influence for Chris De Burgh's hit sing "Lady in Red" came from a red sock he had his cock in.

Did you know that Lamb cannot be electrically stunned before slaughter? It's because wool is a good insulator, apparently.

If a man writes a tweet that only women read, is it still wrong?

Sitting, furrowed brow, head in his hands. Concentrating. Deep in thought. "Why? Why? How is it possible?". Plop. The poo comes out.

Alan has a large ego. Instead of assuming he is better than the rest, he tests himself against them and often comes out with a larger ego.

Bill's girlfriend is asleep, snoring, mouth WIDE open. He pops a live spider and a worm on her tongue. Why? Why not!

What do you call a terrorist from Ibiza? Allsummer Binlargin'

My father is just back from having triple heart bypass surgery. For a warm welcome, I'm hiding in his wardrobe & I've put a rat in his bed.

Getting dressed in the dark was never a problem until I ripped Fido's guts putting on a pair of dog.

I kid you not: the first thing I saw today was a man balancing a peanut on his dog's nose.

Colin Firth puts fingers up his nose, grabs a tuft of nasal hair & pulls sharply. He grimaces. His eyes water. That scene won him an Oscar.

With trousers around his ankles, singer Will Young leans over his pet dog. Wide eyed, the border collie worries about the cock on his back.

He Man sniggers at an open window, throwing darts at stray cats. For a moment the laughing stops and a single tear rolls down his cheek.

Take comfort in the fact that I watch you, and your partner, with my cock in hand, as you sleep.

A disturbed Simon Cowell stands in front of the monkey enclosure. Dodging thrown feaces, semen & vomit the chimps don't vote him through.

There's a space down there, a disgrace I like to bare, with very little hair, for tender loving care, it gets a lot of wear. #itsmycock

Sliding on his back, from the bus seat behind me, A naked Thomas Yorke's head appears between my legs. He's winking. Or is he? He is. Isn't

Having never mixed with the obese pigs populating our country, the actor Alan Rickman kindly gives up his bus seat for a pregnant man.

The door slams shut, his wife has gone out. Never one to miss an opportunity, Ross Kemp strips naked, lies on the floor and meows loudly.

Loaf of bread in each hand, a baguette stuffed down his trousers; bare-chested he screams, "Come On F*ckers!!". The ducks seem unimpressed.

Looking out over London Town: a girl screams. You would. Razorblades cellotaped to playground slides hurt.

When I'm out with the girlfriend & I go for a poo, I tell her "there was a big queue". I also tell her this when i take a dump at home

Haggard, stinking hobo is ripped to the tits on skag.Begging for money he stumbles into traffic and is maimed.It's 8am. It's your boss.

Their eyes met across a crowded barn. Time stood still as Daisy fluttered her long eyelashes at Gertrude while defecating 3kg of rotten hay

Far, far, way out in the distance I see a naked man wailing, jumping up and down, crying with rage. I stole his clothes.

Quietly he presses he sneaks up on his sleeping Grandma: pressing his naked buttocks to her face. He farts. Poo comes out. But not from him

Get The London Look: Central Line, naked. Legs APART. Copy of the Metro covering the tackle. Tip of cock visible peeking out underneath.

A man dressed in a twin set, skirt with strappy sandals, flirts and then seductively asks the butcher about his terminally ill wife.

Crouching over a kitten, dropping loose yellow stools onto its soft fur. The kitten eats my poo while crying tears of joy. Why?

Moonwalking into the path of an oncoming train, shouting "heeee hooo" just before impact. All that is left is a single silver glove.

Licking the window of a bus, mouthing "suck it the fuck up" at the 60 year old bodybuilding chinaman on the other side of the glass

Taking photos of my flatmates while wanking and whispering "I'm going to kill you all"

Cock AND balls hanging out of the left leg of my shorts while Grandma watches Grandstand.

What have I done since my emotional departure from Walford? I was never in Walford.

It's not insomnia, it's distractnia.

Pieces of 88.8fm. Pirate Radio. Playing your favorite songs by 80's chart toppers "Aha" all day, every day.

Yours truly's shoe meets goo disguised as brown leaf litter dropped from dog shitter.

Frozen. Needs gloves hats mac scarves chaps thermal undercracks knits mountain kits crampons. Fuck it. I'll get creative with tampons.

Laptop's not got what that twat Hock wants. His ponce PC won't boot easily for me and fuck-me-days it's less computer more greasy tea-tray.

Can't decide whether London is a real life Coruscant, or a massive Mos Eisley.

Gok Wan continues the long voyage towards his dream of looking like a fifty year old Thai female.

Just attended the wedding of a mate who was first introduced to me by Sonic the Hedgehog. How random is that?

Dear DrHamHock...

2011-03-09T23:39:00.000Z

Dear DrHamHock,
My boyfriend's penis is too large and it hurts when we make love. So much so that I am thinking of giving him a shove. Allow me to expand on the point. Or not as the case may be.
Sporty footballer boyfriend Harry "Big Boy" Barry is happy as Larry with everybody knowing of his massive members club. Showering in sports changing room, not much room. His hunk of trunk wears the soap. The local football team panting between tackles riding sliding tackles leaving a single deep track in the grass.
Happy as can be until Barry is dealt a low blow by his bride-to-be. She wants nothing more than to dowse his arousal. "Like trying to push a balloon into a pint glass" his girlfriend wants to call time on his pub lunch and swap main course for a smaller starter as the the main vein causing pain in her business lane. She longs to shrink the dink and cool her lady flames.
With such a pendulous tumescence his time is up as a pleasant pleasure presence in the rudeoir. His lady friend will bin him off for a smaller model: for something easy to park with a comfy ride, with a feeling of spaciousness when the driver's inside: A Japanese model may do the trick and if she doesn't like the cut of his jib, she must avoid cutting-down his nib.
A hard decision is a-head as wifey tries to avoid the knifey and choose a small natural penis instead.
A natural hobbit rather than another John Wayne Bobbitt.

Kind regards,
Celine, Durham.

DrHamHock Says,
"Thank you for your letter, Celine. I suggest chopping his knob off".

Dear DrHamhock,
My boyfriend has a terribly hairy back. It's repulsive. What can I do to get over this?
Your Sincerely,
Chantelle, Essex

Dr HamHock Says,
"Roaming combs over his hairy back and whispering sweet nothings will do diddly squat to your worries. Tune-in to a future of grooming when once ancient humans would pick & peck unwanted visitors from the furry neck and skin of monkey kin. Instead of ticks and lice, be nice offering to comb or brush his rear-view bush, luring him toward your ultimate goal of owning a shaved monkey.
I hope this helps."

Another Poem About Bodily Excretions

2011-02-27T20:37:00.001Z

"Just sneezed on your back, mate", I shout in my head.

I hate having a cold, coughing makes me feel wretched and old.

Sneezing followed by wheezing followed by sweet fucking bejeeezzing.

This poem pleases pharmaceuticals:

(in three weeks time my freebies will arrive

And I'll be thriving on medical ebay sales

and admiring the state of my cuticles.)

Longing for cigarettes and coffee, with only coffee providing relief.

Without coffee I feel my brain degrading and fading

Like the excruciating fools I rub shoulders with day-to-day,

The fools launching trebuches of spit and dog shit.

Smelling of Marmite, fags and, oddly, cat shit.

Smash and grab from the nasal grocer,

Snorting liquid-cabbage when the owner gets closer

Stealing greens five-a-day from my hooter

I'm better being known as a nostril looter.

Drop a pill for your ills

Your ails pail into insniffsnifficance

Failing that stick one up eat snout

That should keep the sniffles out.

And plug the glug of green mud.

You'll just look like a bit of a twat for a while.

Until the next nose-slugs slide single file

Allowing at least a single private lick of sweet salty bogey

before society demands the "Man Size" Tissue to control the terrible issue.

Coughing, gasping, wretching, fetching up nothing, then something new.

Something borrowed, something greeny-blue.

That new something being a runny and familiar goo

Like the streaks down my sleeve and the drips on the floor and the marks on the handle of the door.

And the splat on the back of you.

Lovely man flu image (with fun article) from HERE

I done dis

2011-02-15T23:12:00.003Z

Dis here

And support friends of the surgery.

Pigeon Cunt. Get off my Scotch Egg

2011-02-02T21:28:00.002Z

A pigeon after crumbs waddles over for scraps of Scotch egg.

Brave enough to eat near my feet with its flabby beak.

Clumsily it comes after my crumbs.

The try-hard rotund retard can't fly, won't fly.

Its swollen beak leading the snack-sneek.

It walks; more overladen than hidden,

The bold bird heard making haste for my poor-taste waste.

My friendly fat fuck of an airborne tramp eats boiled avian abortion.

Cautiously stooping with one portly eye on me and one on the food.

The fear and need to leave is far as it feeds near.

The tubby winged rat wanting dregs of my rotten egg flotsam.

Still with one eye on the big guy,

ready to fly,

circling,

looping,

never breaking stare

at the giant scary human bear,

tearer of pork in breadcrumbs,

ever decreasing circles to be fed-crumbs .

The single pork-sod becomes three becomes seven birds,

A flock of flying fat fock.

One speculator,

becomes three prospectors,

becomes seven investors and consumers.

Picking away at the crumbs of the uncommon man.

The lardy buddys waddling, heads nodding.

If the greedy, needy, feathered cunt had a tongue...

it'd be lolling while strolling

for out-loud land-nom off LOLondon crossing.

These beggars can be choosers;

either consumers or losers;

belly full or trousers looser.

If pigeons wore trousers that is.

Which they don't because they're birds.

Adam

2011-01-27T23:29:00.000Z

He poked the hole he'd just made, sucked his teeth, grimaced, swallowed and pushed his forefinger in, just up to the second knuckle. It felt warmer and wetter than the rest of it. Certainly more alive than he expected. He withdraws, lifting up to his nose to give it a sniff. It smelt metallic, and maybe beefy. He shook his head and goes back to the hole, gently pushing two fingers in - just the tips. The hole drains a little, stretches and tears slightly. The extra play in the knife wound allows him to hook the fingers back on themselves, creating a handle of sorts in his dead mother's abdomen. It feels strong, so he gives it a tug. His fingers slip around inside but the handle doesn't give up. So he pulls harder. Like a bowling ball, he lifts up what's left of her body up - just part of the head, the torso and left leg. A pint of hot, clear liquid fluid drains a gaping socket. The tiny handhold silently splits open and the body drops back down.

The person that he was 24 hours ago has long gone; replaced by a curious creature. It neither recognises the corpse nor does it recognise itself, nor will it remember the events of today.

Fortunately for the last 14 hours, including the last few hours of the corpse, from the corner of the room, Adam had been watching the whole thing.

"Arpeggiate" is Highlighted

2011-01-26T23:58:00.001Z

A boiling kettle hissing, whistling buried beneath metal floors.

Jet planes landing struggling against cross-winds; struggling against turnaround times and fines.

The torture of so much quiet noise; but never screaming all at once.

The drawing of curtains over and over again, finger nails tapping Morse gibberish on slices of plant and earth.

Hammer and hate arpeggiate and syncopate generate a rate of rhythm.

Ringing, the voice diminishes repeats and finishes clues to a puzzle giving us everything and leaving us with nothing. Offers satisfaction for metal beckons.

Once in a while another world comes straight past us facing where we've been, knowing where we're going.

There's a fan, whirring but no breeze.

When frame fades my face appears straight mouthed near looking through geek pork pies.

Nothing remains but wire, bag, flask and box and yours truly.

One of four, the other three stare with glee, happiness sewn into the fabric of their existence:

Grey frogs from a distance arms raised with salute or outstretched with resistence. one hundred names from two tribes; those extrovert those introvert.

The static march home goes on and on but not forever and never alone.

Choo Choo.

Time to wheel out my "old chestnut" again.....

2010-10-31T10:54:00.003Z

I'm a secret wanger strangler

2010-10-06T23:06:00.001+01:00

Honing a black fantasy back at home.

Well, it's my mother's home, but I'm home alone.

Home of her 50 year-old son all alone, polishing his dome, whipping his foam.

Key in the door! Tissue hits the floor, zip-up, wipe-down, cum-face turns to frown.

A short-term deposit loses interest withdrawn in an instant as parent draws-in.

Too late to open a new account in the Hong Kong and Shanghai Wank Bank

A tissue full of rank deposited by a yank, a spank and a crank on my plank.

Fuck this, no space, I ain't got a place to shed this waste

11pm and out, off to the local meat market to mark fresh meat

The two-quid-and-you're-in nightclub is my sex life, my new position;

My on-top, my underneath and from behind.

Nocturnal home of my imaginary wife;

The invisible trouble and strife, reality reveals I'm alone with my knife.

A pork sword to sink, piggy-snout without the squeal and snorts

A curly tail, thin and pink.

An animal part I waggle over the bathroom sink.

There's the dance floor.

Full of whore, girls next door, phwoar and pussy galore.

My pants score.

Pitching more tent than a Millets sales floor.

Wristing and wrestling with my pocket Ghandi

Hole in my pocket is coming in handy,

Nobody knows I'm feeling this randy,

Flicking my thumb on my swollen glandy,

Cant quite hide my full hand-shandy.

Need a different modus operandi.

The best-before date long expired on this hard-candy.

A frankly frightly public wank stinking of my nightly rank.

Girls shake; my cock wakes.

Rock-hard pant-loaf starting to bake.

This pound-cake is beginning to ache.

Springing up like a stood-on a rake.

Burnt-on crust, floured with white dust.

Week-old ingredients from a one-handed crust.

Sour dough-balls but no mouths to fill.

My imagination is a Bible for the mentally ill.

A seedy baguette heavy on the yeast

A sour-dough-roll and a long hard feast

Pants are possessed by a hard greased beast,

Groin needs exorcising by a Catholic priest.

Risen in my Aga, this un-proven mess is getting harder,

The third-leg steak-cake is sweating in my larder,

Need to give my snake a break.

Before my trousers opaque.

Did I say "Snake"?

Did I say "French Stick"?

Shame it's a lie, here's the truth about my dick:

It's more two cheese balls and a quarter bread-stick.

Visualise a candle - it's the size of the wick.

More "Little Richard" than "HRH King Dick".

I bolt. A jolt to the system. Liquid loose from pink cistern.

A jump in my pants turns to a lump in my throat as I note across the dance, three men by chance, have clocked my frantic nightlife antics and are soon to cross the room intent on sinking my boat like the Titanic.

I twist and turn to leave this joint,

Making my way to the cloakroom point.

Pick up my dirty mac, checking back, fellas getting nearer, push clear for the rear door, lunging for the street, sends past the bouncers, benders, the poor and the shit-in-a-tray vendors.

Nightbus calling, dodging the trails of sick and shit, gotta shake my tail, but not in the same sense as the tail-shaking earlier which waked my tail, shaked my nail, whacking my wanger like a rough old wrangler.

I'm a secret wanger strangler.

Fleet of feet I turn down a street, safe to return next week for more geek-peek under the sheet of loud beats in my disco retreat.

Like the secret lemonade drinker only stinkier, creepier, night-stalking night-clubs knight-stick gland in hand, my fleshy night-club to rub with a stalk-on I get my walk-on to flesh out my fantasy back at home.

Well, it's my mother's home. But I'll be home alone.

Scone Watch REDUX

2010-10-05T23:31:00.001+01:00

GEOGRAPHY
Pikachu Circus, LoLondon

TASTE
A sconebomb blasting your tastebuds lasting like waste goods after it's long gone.

SMELL
A sweetly smokey ghost, fragrant and moist, lingering most neatly; a jokey vagrant goes squatting in your nose.

TEXTURE
Crisp crust, teeth biting through into soft moist fluff, munchy stuff with juicy fruit ruthless and functional stuff.

PERSONALITY
Knickers flashing, dropping drawers, teasey dirt; village Vicar's jaws drop at the thought of haughty, naughty nights of fruit and Blightly, nightly with this bit of easy skirt.

SEXUALITY
Not pumped with cream, gaping and aching for a cutlery plundering, it's longing for Mr Right to spend the night clotted with hugs and long kisses, not missing the wrong filling by fly-by-night nobbers or scone robbers.

8/10

I hate: therefore I am

2010-10-04T22:38:00.001+01:00

I hate the X-Factor as much as Simon Cowell hates top lips.
I hate the X-Factor as much as Joseph Fritzl loves home-births.
I hate the X-Factor as much as Colin McCray's son loved heli-pads.
I hate the X-Factor as much as Louis Walsh loves the craic of young men.
I hate the X-Factor as much as Mick Hucknall loves the thought of coming home to you.
I hate the X-Factor as much as Jews love shuddering before taking a shower.
I hate the X-Factor as much as Jonathan King hated his boyfriends reaching puberty.
I hate the X-Factor as much as Gary Glitter hated his wives reaching puberty.
I hate the X-Factor as much as cats can has cheezburger.
I hate the X-Factor as much as Conor Clapton wasn't sure of his father's name if he saw him in heaven.
I hate the X-Factor as much as the David Cameron hates Father's Day.
I hate the X-Factor as much as Jade Goody hated smear tests.
I hate the X-Factor as much as Freddie Mercury loved slimming aids.
I hate the X-Factor as much as David Blunkett loved pretending he wasn't looking at your tits. Dirty bastard!
I hate the X-Factor as much as George Micheal loves dropping prison soap.
I hate the X-Factor as much as residents of Hiroshima hated aftersun lotion.

Yet I can't stop watching.

Miss Jermaine Jews

2010-09-22T23:03:00.000+01:00

A little old lady sipping gravy,

Joined the navy for a spot of fun,

With her saucy red dress,she stode with finess;

her mind full of sin and her head full of rum

Now her tum's full of rum she craves Gin & Juice

But she's spent all her pension on a bottle of Grey Goose.

But still she craves more as she walks out the door.

She thinks fast, thinks dangerous, thinks loose!

With a roar she draws forward clawing and gnawing the jaw of her maw.

Unable to coordinate her weighted gait she chases the acoholic bait.

She sighs and she cries and she clenches her jaw.

Bent over and withened, she stumbles towards her inevitable fate:

Scenic dreams of mountains, streams, reaches,

Fountains, Nirvanic images, beaches and brush.

Although really she knows, that's not how it goes,

Acid disappointment comes now in a rush

She stands, straightens her shoulders,

and steps into the crush.

Hardeners World - BBC1 - S1Ep1

2010-09-11T23:29:00.000+01:00

Next up on BBC1 Daytime, is Douglas Trotts with the brand new bone-improvement show,"Hardener's World".

20 SECOND INTRO "HARDENERS WORLD"

"Hello, over the next six weeks, we'll be exploring every aspect of the hottest topic on everyone's lips at the moment - cock-pulling. We'll be bringing you the latest news, views and trends every week straight into your living room. This is the place to be if you have any interest in Britains's Disgusting Handshake."

"For our first show, we're in Gloucestershire, where later, we'll be slinging string round the back of a well known supermarket, giving tips on how to shuffle in security and asking you the viewers to vote on your all time favorite movie shuffle."

"First up, we go over to the picturesque Market town of Dersley, known to many as being the spirtual home of Glocestershire masterbating. Tony Diddles has been with us here behind the bins at the back of Waitrose for about 40 minutes now. Tony, welcome to the show, talk us through what's going on here."

"Thanks Doug, it's great to be here. Well, viewers, I've been here playing pocket pool for nearly and hour now, just tickling the tip of my wrinkled-sausage maintaining a one-quarter chubb pretty much consistantly for the entire time. In about 20 minutes, i'll be looking to finger a single stinking ball through a hole in my left pocket with a view to then petting the pony in full view of the Waitrose staff here. Witha bit of luck, I'll be squeezing my horrid-porridge out liveon camera before the show ends."

"Wonderful Tony, I can't wait to see that. I bet our viewers willbe keeping their fingers crossed for that too. Tony, do tell me what's going-on at the back of your trousers; I'm no sailor, but if I didn't know better, it looks like you're poop-deck is covered covered in semen."

To Be Continued....

Inception

2010-08-01T00:19:00.001+01:00

This is paradise. Lying down on a North African beach, parasol shading my eyes from the wonderful sun's rays, the sea rolling in and rolling out, tickling at my toes, cooling my pinkies. I'm tippedy-tapping away at my laptop keyboard. Life couldn't be better.

"Creating a spoiler-free review is normally pretty difficult. But with Inception it's piece of piss, because there are no plot spoilers. Nolan's new film leaves you begging for spoilers, crouched on your knees, head down, crying with despair, hands cupped together, raised above your bowed head, pleading like a filthy Oliver, "Please, Chris. Can I have some spoilers?"

"Christopher Nolan: the mailman of Hollywood. Produced, written, directed and delivered. Delivered on every level. It's pretty sickening how talented this film maker is. His CV is "mad-skills" for someone only just knocking on 40 years old."

It was at this point I decided I needed to go down a level to carry on. I arranged for one flatmate to sit with me at a beach-side dining table, while another other made sure we went under safely and sharpish.

"Action fans can overlook the deeper elements of unreality and just mop, soak and suck-the-fuck-up the wonderfully realised fantastical set pieces and scenarios, gobbling down (just like Hollywood will be gobbling down on Nolan's stump) one of the greatest converging of crescendos I've ever seen in a film."

This wasn't enough for me. Sitting on a bright-pink PVC sofa, in a French scat-specialising whore-house, tippedy-tapping on my laptop, my flat mate and I make preparations to put me down another level. This will be as far as I go.

"The sci-fi fans among us will enjoy the paradoxes, unrealities and fake science behind the plot's vehicle, while thriller fans will quickly start fellating-hard on the film noir-direction and espionage running through the the film's main vein. Am I falling?"

Continuing my review of Inception, I look out of my Manhattan penthouse and admire the world scurrying about 50 floors down. Like iddy biddy ants. I pour another gin, loosen my tie, unbuttoning my collar and go back to the laptop, to tippedy-tap of course.

I am falling. Hang on. Wait a minute... This dropping in my stomach is quickly followed by a realisation that I'm no longer in New York - I'm back in the slag-house, watching whores poo on one another. Ahh, lovely. Oh wait, falling again... Blam!

Oh, back on the beach. Mmmm, warm. Oh hello skimpily-clad sun lover... oh hang on.... wait a minute...falling again?

After being brought back into reality by my team, I sit here on Ealing high street at rush hour, tippedy-tapping on my laptop, wearing only my underpants, a half-empty bottle of gin is by my side. I appear to have pissed and shat myself, partially thanks to the old "hand in a warm bowl of water" trick, partially because I appear to have drink half a litre of gin. Thanks flat-mates, thanks.

"Just like after watching the masterpiece that is Inception, I'm left stunned. I'm left with questions. I'm left oddly satisfied and giddy. I'm left shocked and exhilarated. I'm left with shit and piss in my pants in public. Again."

"I'd better check... "

The Year of Our Lord MMX - FAIL

2010-07-22T21:08:00.000+01:00

Another good reason for always looking up. With all the effort involved in breaking in to a new office building; getting past security and construction areas, then making way to the roof of the top level, one would think that if the main aim was to spraypaint a statement or tag....

....then they would think to write the number "2" in "2010" the right way around...

DrHamHock unveils new App Store

2010-07-14T21:52:00.000+01:00

Yes there's a sign in the photo to explain the joke.

Will it be "Twilight Eclipse" or "Predators"....

2010-07-10T01:40:00.001+01:00

...will it be salad or frozen peas? Will it be mushrooms? Fried onion rings? You'll have to wait and see....

Two big franchises. Friday night. Two clear lines at the cinema. Two vectors of destiny.

To one's eyes, there was a clear visual distinction; that of gender. In lines where the dominant sex was female, a small number of males shuffled uncomfortably, looking forlorn, sullen and embarrassed; often trying to make eye contact over to the male-dominated queue. "Help me". "I'm sorry". "Take me with you" the silent glances said.

To one's nose; Roses on the right, horse shit on the left. Impulse on the right, Lynx on the left. Mango on the right, beef dripping on the left. Menstrual blood on the right, Stella Artois on the left. Body butter on the right, baby gravy on the left.

To one's ears; the queue dominated by males had the occasional lone dripping sound. A subtle clicking maybe, or clucking. Definitely a soft exhaling. A disapproving exhale. A solitary female disapproving exhale, clucking, tutting "i wish it was my choice this week" under the breath kind of a tut-cluck-mumble-whisper.

I was in the male dominated line. It stunk of man. Reeked of it. It was dripping off down the walls, thick, black like treacle. Salty. Beefy. God (male) said it was good.

God was in the our queue too. God had the large Pepsi. Full fat with nachos. He didn't pay for it. Us males knew this and "it was good". The girls in the other queue, clutching a regular-sized diet Pepsi, did that fucking tutting thing I took so long to describe earlier.

God approved of "Predators" and gave it 9 out of 10, vowing to smite lower reviews. He didn't finish his Pepsi. He only got it because the regular size was only a tiny bit smaller.

He also said that, "not only was it the most perfect, sympathetic and relevant sequel to the original 1987 cult classic", it made him "forget about the shitstorm that was P2, AvP and AvP2."

Before he left he also stated that "this is for those who don't push pencils for the CIA, who listen to Little Richard and have the middle name of either Dutch, Mac or Poncho" going on to say "anyone whose middle name is Glover best get the fuck out of my faces".

God laughed at the Orange advert, talked through the A-Team trailer and tutted like a girl at the Inception teaser.

Ooohhhh it "Predators", it's "Predators"! We hope it's "Predators", "Predators"! We hope it's "Predators", "Predators"!

Game set in 1911....

2010-07-08T23:06:00.000+01:00

Who the fuck is this?

Tenuous INTERNET sleuthing links it to this but that's simply rotten and dull. Anyone got any better ideas?

She barks, she drools, she claws...

2010-07-08T22:40:00.001+01:00

She's not my girlfriend... I find her interesting because she's a client and because she sleeps above her covers..four FEET above her covers...

Birmingham's Greatest Pwn Shop

2010-07-02T19:45:00.000+01:00

Vintage Videogame Print Adverts #2 - Taito

2010-05-28T11:36:00.003+01:00

Trying desperately to form some order out of the chaotic stack of scans, Taito is today's focus....

"Wham"
Renegade, Sky Shark, Bubble Bobble & Operation Wolf
Taito 1988

Remember "Operation Wolf" Arcade? Remember the feeling of a real Uzi Machine Pistol rattling away in you hands, spraying Commando justice in South America? Remember when seeing 16 colours on an arcade cab screen was a near-religious experience? Remember "Bubble Bobble"? Remember Lizards burping bubbles at angry enemies? Just fuck off. Remember "Renegade"? Remember the arcade cab had three buttons? See your NES pad? Only two there mate. Remember "Sky Shark"? No, me neither.
In reading this, you have sustained a lethal injury. Sorry, but you are finished here.

"Force of One"
Wrath of the Black Manta
Taito 1990
In the late eighties / early nineties, kids didn't want to be celebs or hipsters, life was a lot less simple than that. Unless you had you sights set on being a stuntman, pro-BMXer or Ninja you were officially "retarded" or "gay" and in many countries in the developed world it was perfectly legal to publicly humiliate those who didn't aspire to walk as quiet as a cat while throwing stars made of empty Coke-cans, or if they lacked the ability to throw themselves down the stairs onto a pile of blankets, boxes and pillow while mum and dad are out of the house. File under "window into my childhood".

"Master The Power"
Demon Sword
Taito 1990

What's to say? The advert is pretty lightweight, but what is possible more awesome than the Falzetta-inspired box art? God it makes me feel manly. Ooohhh-yeahh! (poses). Might go and punch a cow in the face later.

Fake Science - How Do We Get Oil?

2010-05-28T10:52:00.000+01:00

With love from the wonderful "Fake Science" site...

Pacificism in the Great West

2010-05-26T23:30:00.006+01:00

Red Dead Revolver is a great game. You can unlock "things". It's got a lot of challenges to complete, allowing you to unlock lots of "things".

"Thinging" is a typical gaming format common in modern times from Farmville to Modern Warfare to PSN Trophies and Xbox Gamerpoints.

We as humans like unlocking "things". What a complete flock of retards we are. What a full set of tools.

In the case of Red Dead, it's pick this herb, shoot these animals, kill these people etc etc etc. Think of it as "Farmville 1922".

The single player challenges are a separate entity from the multiplayer ones, with completed multiplayer / "free-roam" challenges helping the player to level up etc etc etc.

There is the option to complete these challenges in a private "free-roam" server, all on my lonesome, no human interaction, all AI, all a bit of a quiet life. Yet I need that element of unpredictability and threat which comes with the "potential deathtrap" that is the Public Free Roam, even if my only agenda is to pick a load of herbs, pootle around on my steed and generally be nice to all and sundry. *sigh*

Historically, playing with human player-characters (PCs) as opposed to only NPCs is a guaranteed one-way-ticket to frustrationville. Spamming exploits, "cheating" camping/sniping, relentless petty childish violence, etc etc etc. In fact, introduce a good population of humans into any multiplayer game or any genre and very quickly one will realise our species is pretty well and truly fucked.

Back to RDRedmption. Free Roam allows up to 15 human beings per "world" at a time. If you join a game, there's a good chance you'll be offered recruitment straight away with an existing posse looking to build on it's power base. In general, once you're "in" it's rare for any in-posse violence to break out. Rare, but let me refer you to my earlier comment regarding the "relentless petty childish violence" of yooman beans.

I haven't experienced multiple posses cross-co-operating, indeed it just seems like a struggle for land at times, with the most persistent managing to evacuate the outsiders from that particular area on the map or settlement.

One interesting experiment's result was that of staying as a free agent and approaching other players in the game world: strolling up to a random human player, putting the guns away, saying "howdy pardner!" in a friendly (or demented) manner.

About half of the time you'll get a buck-shot to the dome, but the other 50% is, well a little freakish!. Players cautiously hiding in buildings, keeping distance, peeping out, guns drawn watching you without trust and with paplable fear. But not always firing the first shot, or even a warning shot. But you can just taste the fear.

Everyone in the game is one edge. But you know that we never stop thinking about where our next "things" are coming from. *rocks back and forth*

Headset communication is based on map proximity, as well as what posse you may be in. This is where you can state your intentions (or lack of them): putting your weapon away, saying hello and continuing on your way. Whatever that merry way may actually be. Even if that "way" is unknown to the third party: I could have been the game's most ruthless and blood-curdlingly-exacting Black Knight "sparing" a weakling PC, for all they know. I wasn't, I was just on my way to collecting my next "thing".

In the real lawless Wild West, this can't be far from being a close cultural simulation; the paranoia, the trustlessness and selfishness that must have come at that time (albeit here highly glamourised version for the silver / flat screen).

Killing isn't designed to be the prime motivation in RDR as it is with most multiplayer shooters; although as we all know killing is often the prime motivation for human players regardless of how a game may try to "design" the culture otherwise.

Embracing this game's culture and the primal motivations of Homo Sapiens, the Multiplayer Free Roam mode does offer us a slice of genuine wild west survivalism.

Choose survival as a "Black Knight" (genuinely seek out others and kill them over territory, regardless of the little XP or equipment gained; AKA "relentless petty childish violence" approach).

Choose survival to be a "White Knight" (concentrating on gang hide-out challenges while preserving the public and animal trust). Like the Littlest HoboCop.

Choose survival as a "Green Knight": a loner, an outcast, a castoff, concentrating on the flora and fauna challenges, while taking in the wonderfully recreated world, philosophising over the last Black Knight you had to kill because "it was either him or me, pardner". *wink*

The feeling of having to look over your shoulder when you're gathering herbs or killing coyotes is thrilling. Death is everywhere: either from PCs or from animals. This shit just feels right. It feels wild. It feels Wild West. Wicky, Wicky, Thingy, Wild Wild Things.

Take this wonderful example: Fellow gamer "Mutebot" and myself were indulging in a little team-hunting (hunthinging). Hunting for brown bears to be exact, which is a little more scary than you might think. Particularly scary when the challenge requires you to murder at least one brown bear using your hand knife.

Well all was good (click the picture on the left) as Mute "Still Standing" Bot and I pose for the post-hunt photo opportunity like the murdering lords we be.

Remember the bit earlier where I said, "The feeling of having to look over your shoulder when you're gathering herbs or killing coyotes is thrilling; death is everywhere: either from PCs or from animals." ?? Well, I'm glad you did, because WE casually forgot this statement while posing for the picture.

There's a certain air of irony in Mutebot's HUD gaming title of "Still Standing" as, while posing for the camera, we failed to keep our eyes on the radar and were in fact crouching, with Mutebot to soon find himself flat on the floor....

The second photo (click it on the right) shows the result of this deep moment of relaxation. A kind player character had sneaked up to see what the fuck we were doing, looked at the two hunting spastics with their two hairy trophies and proceeded to shoot Mutebot in the neck, just as I lined up the cover-shot for Guns & Ammo 1920 edition.

If you are out "thinging" for "things" just remember two "things". Rockstar's wonderfully recreated "West" is "Wild" and full of wonderfully retarded Humans, murdering and collected their way through the desert.

One of those horrid humans has just finished writing this article. The other is lying face down in the snow; his mind too cluttered with "things" to have ever had a hope of saving him.

*sigh*

As a closing note do check out Thatguys' comment on the RDR press saturation... "Red Dead Redemption: Social acceptability unlocked"?

Breaking News Cubed

2010-05-11T19:30:00.001+01:00

At 19:21, while watching the "Gordon Brown Statement" "live" on the BBC NEWS "Live Election Video" coverage "LIVE" from "Downing Street" of Gordon Brown resigning, it was quite a shock to be informed that "Breaking News Gordon Brown resigns as Prime Minister",that "Brown resigns" and that in "breaking news Gordon Brown resigns as Prime Minister", "LIVE from Downing Street" on BBC NEWS.

The Lib-Con Negotiations are taking their toll on William Hague...

2010-05-11T18:19:00.000+01:00

..if the BBC News at 6 is to be believed.

Election Night "Highlights"

2010-05-07T03:44:00.003+01:00

Well this is a retarded evening. Up all night watching the results roll in, knowing full well that the excitement of the present will no doubt evaporate into a flat sigh of "meh" by 9am.

But there has been a couple of interesting 'tings a g'won. One of them was Antiques Roadshow's Fiona Bruce (right). The others were the count results from Mr Brown and Mr Cameron constituencies.

Ah Fiona... The older sister you'd secret sneak a peek at while she showered. Maybe. Her career spanning reporting and news presenting, many a middle-aged man were whooping and a-hollering at the news of her replacing the Micheal "Leatherface" Aspel on the Antiques Roadshow. Swelling both it's viewing figures AND the flacid gut-sticks of said 60-year-old men, the BBC wheeled her out for the Election all-nighter. The producers hopeful of her getting off her tits on Bolly by the end of the evening, flashing her jubblies at Messrs Dimbleby and Paxman. Or not. Anyway I'm getting distracted.

In David Cameron's constituency of Witney the interesting news wasn't that of a Conservative swing or of Dave's victory.

Nor was it the news of Howling "Laud" Hope; leader of the Monster Raving Loony (William Hill) Party standing in the same constituency and looking like a cross between Roscoe P Coltrane and Boss Hog.

First of all, Mr Aaron Barschak achieved 234 votes and was genuinely scary looking. Most of us know him as the guy who gatecrashed Prince William's 21st Birthday Party dressed as Osama Bin Laden.

Today he was standing against David Cameron as an independent. This time he was dressed as the Son of God* complete with crown of thorns and blood. Nice; especially as he's from a Jewish family, one would think trying to elect ANOTHER self proclaimed King of the Jews would've been a no-brainer for the town who's most famous resident was a schoolboy Red Dwarf's Kryton: another fictional character who served the good of mankind in his own image.

Unlike Jesus, Aaron had followers whole weren't entirely fictitious, in the form of 57 voters / disciples.

In Gordon Brown's constituency of Kirkcaldy and Cowdenbeath there was an interesting chap called Derek Jackson (left) of the "Land is Power Party". You'd be forgiven for thinking he was representing the 'White Power Men In Black Voguing Party'. He's not.

Given the camera angle he had plenty of opportunities to flick two finger up and give Brown the "Bunny Rabbit" but he failed, which was a shame. He had 57 fist-pumping white-panther votes. Not bad.

Just to finish with a great quote from Paxman while he tired of questioning the MPs, "It's twenty-past three in the morning, can't we just have a straight answer!"

*AKA Brian / The King of the Jews / The Lord Jesus Christ / Zombie Jesus / Son of David / The Prophet / The Good Shepherd / Very Naughty Boy / Lamb of God

Election night (Sir-C)live text

2010-05-06T20:17:00.015+01:00

If Channel 4 can have an Alternative Election Night full to the brim with satire and mirth then so the fuck can we. Welcome to the alternative (Sir C)Live-text.

David Cameron: come to ECTS, meet big boy barry as he attempts to shill third party shit controllers
Mute: our boy barry for PM
David Cameron: i'd vote for barry, he'd sort a hung parliament out with an art of fighting tournament.
David Cameron: which party leader is better at street fighter?
Herb. R. Ginger: clegg defo
David Cameron: salmond is clearly chun li lightning kick abuser
Herb. R. Ginger: dc is best at command & conquer
Herb. R. Ginger: brown is best at suduko
David Cameron: dc builds sandbags up to labour hq to cut off their harvester
Herb. R. Ginger: i bet he uses the sell sandbag cheat as well the sneaky cunt
DrHDHock: Brown is better at Peggle online, but avoids ranked matches.
Herb. R. Ginger: nod towers all over his gaf
David Cameron: the david steel/david steel alliance broke down over treasure island dizzy gameplay arguments
Mute: I'm sure there was a mock campaign on barry's show for 'barry for pm'
David Cameron: funniest thing walliams ever did
David Cameron: bbb's bitch
Mute: agreed
DrHDHock: Clegg won't play SF in this country as the PAL slowdown is intrinsically and systemically baised towards the two main parties.
Herb. R. Ginger: agreed hock - clegg takes his SF seriously
David Cameron: danny curly was going to lose in finals of street fighter 2 tournament but UKIP's Nigel Farage crashed his chopper through time and knocked the wheels off young #1's skateboard
Herb. R. Ginger: which is why he owns a megadrive
Mute: 'proper joystick technique', 'real button bashing', 'screen positioning'
Herb. R. Ginger: page 4 of the lib dem manifesto - 'MD pad is better'
Kooper: there's no fucking black borders on nick griffins consoles, either. ironically he's an import man

David Cameron: Live satire and sass with David Mitchell, Jimmy Carr and Lauren Laverne responding to the election results as they unfold, intercut with specially recorded election night shows Info
David Cameron: nothing says satire like lauren "kenickie" laverne
Mute: calm down dave
DrHDHock: she can fuck right off. I'm with Big Boy Bonnie on this. Oxygen thief.
David Cameron: even saturday night armistice cast died on their arse in live 97 election satire and they had iannuchi and coogan
DrHDHock: iannuchi is on HIGNFY later btw
David Cameron: yes but the show's been shit since before deyton left
DrHDHock: At least C4's Alt Election is using Jon Spencer Blues Explosion for the trailers. +10 mana
Kooper: "kenickie" - i used to wank off thinking about fucking the two fat ones. true story!
David Cameron: sadly kooper due to technology that confession will live forever. 35th century afri-robots will laugh at your bad taste
Kooper: the heart wants what the heart wants, bonnie, and mine wanted big fat wimmin
David Cameron: not women, geordies

Spudgun: we were 'joking' earlier about paying the pikeys to torch the polling stations where greenie cunts were likely to vote Info
Spudgun: some cheeky cunt green twats tried to hand out some fliers to me as i was walking down the street
Spudgun: one of them was a hot asian bitch but she's have to do something pretty special to get me to vote for that horrible lucas cunt
DrHDHock: Spud experiences an election "wobble"
Spudgun: haha
Spudgun: the look on my face did the trick i think
Spudgun: my mate was wearing a green tie too the fucking twat
DrHDHock: Moth to a gaslight mate. What if it was a hot Lib Deb Asian babe?
Spudgun: hmmm do they exist
Spudgun: i thought they were all fat 3rd year english lit students called sarah
DrHDHock: "AIannucci #ge2010. Labs, Lib Dems, Others: Charge! There's 1 more hour to stop Pudge-Face and his Moon-eyed Loons."
DrHDHock: I guess he's not voted RED then.

David Cameron: i have a strong desire to buy super sf4
Mute: ok
DrHDHock: me too, feel dirty though
David Cameron: well i traded in sf4 today
DrHDHock: Angrily putting it in the ballot box with a big X on the front while shouting "FUCK YOU CAPCOM", ain't a trade-in mate.
David Cameron: m8 i fucking wrote "no r. mika? no karin? no fucking HUGO? this ain't no election"
DrHDHock: "a greasy turk" make do? sounds like a nickname for a horrid turd. apt
Child tax credit: nice to see that bender fry has got into the political swing of it all
Child tax credit: http://twitpic.com/1ll01k
Kooper: would
Spudgun: r mika sucked tbh
Mute: indeed

DrHDHock: http://www.twitpic.com/1lcq0v Where's HRGinger?
Mute: NOpe
Spudgun: coke more like
Mute: http://www.twitpic.com/1ldcp1
DrHDHock: ripe for a shopping that image...
Alan Bastard: looks good.. coming to a parliament near you soon then
Alan Bastard: I hope the tories do something decent and honourable for there first post election pledge like erecting a giant wall around brighton to keep all the queers there
Spudgun: the real b'stard would love a bit of brighton deviancy
DrHDHock: how's this shopp? - http://i41.tinypic.com/20ibkw.jpg
Mute: I hate jimmy carr, I hate his face, I hate his voice, I hate his 'jokes'
Gareb: I think he's alright, Gareb: And the fat lad, And Brooker. I even like that Kenikie bird.
Alan B'Stard: I wonder who brian cox will be supporting when they wheel him on... I doubt if he will be playing things will only get better again next to blair... how wrong could he have been
Mute: crank it up
Mute: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dIj-6fr2SlI
Gareb: His study on the universe will have changed his outlook.
Gareb: http://img8.imageshack.us/img8/2646/citehx.jpg
Mute: HAHA is that you G? as a kid m8
DrHDHock: Gordon Kennedy's a City fan? ffs
Gareb: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g2UfzAQ8Pfg&feature=related
Mute: 5 mins left to get them votes in
Alan B'Stard: I hope the world ends in 1 mins time
Alan B'Stard: what an anticlimax

DrHDHock: Projected Exit Poll - Tory near-victory
Alan B\\\'Stard: same again in 6 months time then
David Cameron: didn't exit polls claim kinnock won once?
DrHDHock: yep
David Cameron: bet his wife had to tape over the end of that election
David Cameron: "yes dear you won"
Mute: haha
David Cameron: pupils from local schools running for no reason
David Cameron: saturn had better 3d
Alan B'Stard: shittttt I knew i should have brought shares in virtual studio's
David Cameron: who is this cunt? what happened to old man swingometer?
Alan B'Stard: if you want to watch some normal news. http://www.myfoxny.com/subindex/good_day_ny/watch_live
David Cameron: wouldn't speak in that accent in sunderland without 15 bodyguards love
Mute: http://www.tvcream.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/swingometer.jpg
David Cameron: nick please buy a different pair of glasses you bald cunt
David Cameron: andrew marr is a zombie from zelda oot
DrHDHock: Weak spot?
Spudgun: recount
Spudgun: erm http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs17/f/2007/171/7/a/Curse_of_the_Redead_by_reimyourou.jpg
Spudgun: oh shit it was a deviant art link
David Cameron: kirstie thank you but fuck off
Spudgun: bitch
David Cameron: teresa may? i was excited momentarily
Spudgun: fuck it's the lord of darkness
David Cameron: mandelson, he failed to get a star wars death star admiral part, this is audition 2
DrHDHock: haha Brown gets to wear the Palpatine mask though.
David Cameron: teresa fake may lacks juggs
Spudgun: damn lord of bitchiness
Gareb: Is there a more creepy, slimey piece of shit in existence than Mandelson? He's on another level.

Gareb: Haha, DC. You're Kate Silverton crush is quite endearing.
David Cameron: waking up to bbc breakfast without her isn't waking up
Gareb: Her best work was when she went out for a week in Iraq, Combats + white vest is a good look for her.
Spudgun: god this coverage is almost as boring as reading mute and vik fill up the shitbox
Herb. R. Ginger: couldn't agree more g, tories being only 20 seats short of a majority in th exits is pretty fucking impressive considering most people dont admit to voting tory
Alan B'Stard: I thought only socialist self important cunty students and dole'ers only vote labour?
Spudgun: and people in the public sector
Alan B'Stard: well it's in there interest innit
Spudgun: well, the useless ones
DrHDHock: Fuck off Sunderland.
Gareb: Haha!
Spudgun: and the jobcentre staff go wild
David Cameron: gareb sticking up for his brothers
DrHDHock: If the exit is right, Brown will cling on. with the emphasis on cling-ons
Mute: here's spud getting a punch - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wKbU8B-QVZk
Herb. R. Ginger: i am of course watching the serious channel still makes me chuckle mute
David Cameron: bored shitless already bed
Herb. R. Ginger: labour held onto sunderland. big fucking surprise
DrHDHock: Sunderland - First to clear their desk. hand the texbooks back and stand behind their chair before the bell goes. But always failing the exams innit.

"You must defeat Gillian Duffy to stand a chance"

2010-05-06T13:01:00.000+01:00

Ahh flash fighters, I hate them, but it's always nice to bring em out on special occasions. Here's a couple of impartial party-politcal-yoga-flames to go at on UK Election Day, both aptly named "Downing Street Fighter", naturally.

Quite why a swing-o-meter wasn't used as a health gauge I don't know.

Click Here for 2010 Version

Click Here for 2001 Version

If you don't want to know the result, look away now....

2010-04-29T14:00:00.001+01:00

*sigh here*

The award for best campaign name goes to...

2010-04-27T19:26:00.003+01:00

With a name like THAT the Tory marketeers needn't have bothered hiring the Saatchi Brothers; just stick Jackie in as Shadow Home Secretary and let the fun begin....
"Delivering change" just doesn't cut it. "Striking fear into the Labour Government." Yes!! "Can you smell the fear?" errr. "Jackie Fear's Change." Oh that doesn't work. "Jackie Fear's working for you". aaahm.. "We have nothing to Fear but Fear itself." I.. err.. it.. err. "Fear is nothing but an over-reaction." Wha.. bu.. "What is fear but an opportunity to over-come fear and to prove yourself master of that which is nothing but ...fear." Is that us? "Fear not for the future." Oh Shit.

As my shoddily assembled examples suggest, if the abuse of her surname isn't carried out in gas-tight manner, the grammar monkeys will take great glee in grabbing hold of the campaign steering wheel and start plowing the Election bus straight through the local sewage treatment plant, straight into the proverbial.

You know what? Scrub it.

Vrooooom

2010-04-27T15:32:00.002+01:00

Still holding a rose-tinted-torch for Ye Olde Shiny Red Car, two franchises popped up recently to tempt me back to aggressively tearing around virtual public highways, byways and airports while tucked into my Sofa Xr3i, protected only by my pants and slippers. They are Blur and Split Second.

After fucking around with the Blur demo, it got deleted. With the Split Second Demo now available. I thought it was time to done the fire-proof dressing-gown, attach the racing helmet-hair (with a secure chinstrap beard) and take it for a spin.

NB: The guys over at Lolocaust will no-doubt have opinions far more valid than my own due to their Burnout OCD. And they will no doubt be able to present said opinions in a grammatically correct and intellectually stimulating manner. So why not wait for someone with half an ounce of sense before reading on.

Oh hello. Split Second demo consists of farting and drinking coffee around 3 laps in single player mode, while trying to fuck up your opponents with button presses. Simple really.
Where if differs from Blur and Mariokart is that it's execution is even simpler: aggressive power is built up in the usual way but it's spent not on firing stuff, but on....

Throwing a few of these.

Collapsing a few of these.

Crash-landing a soupcon of these.

And dropping a few of these.

What's not to like? One small word about the camera. If ever you've worried about the motion-sickness-inducing effect of some first-person-shooters - here's a tip - switch to bumper camera.
Due to the game being directed by Paul Greengrass, the out-of-car view will almost certainly cause...

Which always takes a while to scrub out of Primarni pants, Matalan dressing-gowns and cheap draylon sofas. Be warned.

Oh SHIT!! Rumbled.

2010-04-19T13:19:00.003+01:00

JacktheRipper AKA SlikVik has alerted the house of Hock to the following public service announcement "What Gets You Banned From Xbox Live Until The Year 9999?"
According to the above link, apparently, this behavior does....

As a precursor to chat-roulette, the late-night UNO game in question wasn't soured so my by the hairy ass of my mate, or the opponent's Golly-Wog doll holding an Uzi Machine Pistol, but more by the fact that the video contains a soundtrack mix of Peaches and me laughing like Larry Grayson.

Oh and I correctly recycled a Kotakunt (sh)article.

*sigh*

Blips! - The First Book of Video Game Funnies #5

2010-04-19T13:02:00.001+01:00

Hey readers - I didn't expect to see you here today. I thought you'd be home studying for the big history test. What's the point of studying?

Well, we can be here listening to a random gaming-baker tear apart every facet of a vintage videogame joke-book, deconstructing a literary turd with the grace, tact and relevance of Paul Weller's barber.

Apart from the fact the the background appears to be filled with the cries of Viz's Finbarr Saunders (woop, eeee, spoit, dit dit, glup glup glup, wooooo, pook pook, oink) there appears to be a major issue with the scoring system.

To further pick desperately at the rotten comedy carcass like a sarcastic Marabou stalk, one has to pay close attention to the retarded score progression going from 6 Million to 212 Billion in the space of four sentences, one can only assume that "Mark" is either an "1337 H4X0R" or is playing a precursor to the modern swarm-em-up that currently plagues my nightmares and XBL leader-board.

With hindsight, it's easy to dismiss "100" being the highest score possible. The modern phenomenon of juking statistics or grades should not pass us by. From 2012 expect a series of symbols suffixing Xbox360 shoot-em-up scores, just so PS3 owners can brag about their game format being tougher and more "hardcore".

Nothing funny to see here, please move along. Move along now.

Once again. This is me. This is you.... The cartoon (and post I might add) is so depressing, even his glasses are down-turned and frowning.

*sigh*

Sigh

2010-04-14T13:20:00.002+01:00

Bun and Butter Pudding

2010-04-09T15:18:00.000+01:00

Classic super-fast pudding made from Easter leftovers. You can made this as pikey or as classy as you like but WARNING TEAM!! it's all about using decent custard.

Chop some old Hot Cross Buns in half and butter the hell out of them.
Lie them down, slightly overlapping in an oven-proof dish.
Either spread them with marmalade OR grate the zest of one orange over them.
Pour over hot custard. Shitloads of it - Leave for 15mins to soak up all the eggy goodness.
Stand dish in a deep baking tray half filled with water.
Put in oven for 45mins gas mark 3.
Eat in one sitting and laugh at your gluttany.

A £2.00 pudding; and at only 7000 calories per serving, you can watch your waistline while you watch your wallet. Har dee har. :(

CERN's Large Hadron Collider - DID THEY NOT FORSEE THE DANGERS OF MESSING WITH GOD??

2010-04-04T14:12:00.004+01:00

Hi-Res here

Vintage Print Adverts - "Double Player Controllers", "Freedom Stick" & "QuickShot Joysticks"

2010-04-04T14:04:00.001+01:00

In March of this year, I had the good fortune to come across a stack of about 100 comics spanning the 80's through to the early 90's.

Tucked away beneath the not-so-glossy pages (some worryingly stuck together) were one or two adverts - mainly RolePlaying Games (The TSR / Boardgame types) and chocolate promotions.

Over time these RPG adverts were replaced by a new revenue stream - the filthy cash of the videogame industry. The chocolate adverts remained.

There's quite a few of note and over the next few months I'll introduce you to some of the more interesting ones. Enjoy the adverts and as usual, don't expect any accompanying potent theological commentary.

"Head-to-Head"
The Double Player Wireless System
Acclaim 1988

As we all know, "head-to-head" can have various connotations, particularly when two young men (as pictured) are holding their tools tight while looking deep into the each other's eye with what can only be described as "Le Visage De Vinegre".

Here's the TV spot for the Double-Player System which accompanied the print advert: HERE And here's a "right-on" comment ripped from said Youtube clip. Voted up.

"Look Ma, no more wires"
The Freedom Stick Wireless Controller
Camerica 1987

The Freedom Stick AKA The Double-Crossing Traitor-Stick, is an arcade game-type controller for the Nintendo Entertainment System made by Camerica. Fuck Yeah.

According to a popular directory of online innacurracy, it was a clone of Nintendo's NES Advantage Stick, so Nintendo decided to sue Camerica for copyright infringement. As Camerica marketed the slut-pad as being "Compatible with Nintendo, Sega, Atari and Commodore" Nintendo's legal move was definitely for the best as WhoreSticks such as this need to settle down and marry a SINGLE VG system before they decide to stick it in any old play-hole.

Aside from the fact that it looks exactly like it could be a Tim and Eric sketch (only less convincing) go take a trip down memory pain and check out the TV Spot: HERE I hear that dabbing white-wine will get it out without leaving any marks.

"Quick Shots for Hot Shots"
QuickShot Joysticks
Bondwell 1988

The "dude" thinks he's fucking Maverick from Top Gun, later only to realise he's Raymond from Rainman. Actually I think I just described myself there.

15,000,000 sold worldwide. Reason: Utter shit build quality. A single days play of "Daley Thompson's Decathlon" saw me get through 33 of these fuckers. Wrecked.

So what ARE you waiting for? Wrap your fingers around a QuickShot. And become a real live hot shot.

Tuesday Night Film Club #2

2010-03-31T00:36:00.001+01:00

"Berubera Riin (or Berbera Lynn if you so prefer) wakes sacred monster via the traditional method of a catchy little J-Pop number. Luckily for all involved Mechgodzilla decides to stand around and listen for a bit instead of pumping the bunny eared shit full of rockets from the word go."
Couldn't have put it better myself.

This was linked via the 7" Cinema (not a reference to the good Doctor's amateur sex-tapes, I might add). Great (old) AS-Level Art Project. Rolf Harris would be creaming his kegs at this one. Cartoon Club'd it.

And this one is plainly fucked up close-quarters magic tricks. Starts a little lame and get's stripped back, then stripped back, then stripped back so much so that, by the end I was expecting the LOLand magician to open up some galactic singularity and disappear off into it.

I'm no Saatchi Brother, but I saw this....

2010-03-30T17:46:00.000+01:00

And thought of this.....

Breaking News Desk - Nintendo 3DS - Nintendo Press Release PLUS MORE!!

2010-03-30T17:45:00.002+01:00

In an unbelievable turnaround of events, DrHamHock has beaten all-comers to copy-pasting Eurogamer ahead of other "so-called" video game "ctr-c ctr-v edit a few words sites" and is pleased to announce that Nintendo are just announced it new 3DS handheld, set a debut on E3 at June, featuring "games which are be enjoyed of 3D without the need with special glasses". Bearing of mind what is been leaked about teh console, an what we know about it innards, what are we expect from new piece of kits? So what can we expect from this new press release, released seven days ago, still hot, clipboard burning white?

Also, in an exclusive to readers of "DrHamHock", here are some recent 100% true submissions of "leaked" prototypes. So much for the E3 announcement. This is HOT-SHIT in a BAP. Remember: You heard it here again FIRST!

RebeccachuC1992:

DrHamHock:

Sometimes I Just LOSE IT!

2010-03-27T17:00:00.005Z

Childish I know. Oh and while I'm here...

Enjoy playing rugby in giant-venomous-spider-infested

Australia, Danny.

The Mass Elect #2

2010-03-27T16:29:00.002Z

Blips! - The First Book of Video Game Funnies #4

2010-03-25T16:34:00.001Z

The more alert of you will recognise this literary carbuncle from previous posts...One suggests that you catch up on it's delights so far as I'm going to take you on a comedy trip. Only, where we're going you won't need a sense of humour; Just a couple of aspirin and a bag for the rapidly evacuating gut-juice.

Here
Then here
Then here
Familiarise yourself with the most excruciating comedy since Stan Boardman had his chip-shops bombed. So, lest we remember the fallen left on the comedic battlefield, sides split-open by the evil-doers, it is time for us invade the barren dictatorship of mass mirth. We continue.... Blips!
Part 4 - The Waste of Time Gag.......

...could I have that in "funny"?

While $50 dollars or (£33.62 in real money) is indeed a fine prize for the justification of said hypothesis, it does beg the question, "After reading this, how many people will die from choking on their own vomit, while completely conscious?".

The following image says it all by saying nothing at all. This is me. This is you.

Official Highlights of Team GB's Winter Olympics 2010

2010-03-25T14:17:00.011Z

The Mass Effect #1

2010-03-19T17:57:00.006Z

Yeah the "#1" does indeed mean this might run again during barren periods.

Half Life 3 - Leaked First Look at Gordon Freeman Model

2010-03-16T15:08:00.004Z

"Autonomie" for C64, Spectrum and Amstrad CPC

2010-03-16T14:49:00.001Z

"Continuing in the tradition of Scenesterpede and Assperoids, Retardi brings you another arcade classic, Autonomie, updated for the way-cool generation with both enhanced and original vapid chin-scratching.

For its time, Autonomie was revolutionary with its bearded graphics and its intense crunk-on-cronk action. Now you can play both the original and enhanced versions and take it to the next level with multiplayer hipster douche-play. Only on Xbox 360."

Or it could just be a poster for a Birmingham electronica event.

GTA: "Legends of the Dark Black: Episodes from Raveology"

2010-03-02T20:30:00.005Z

"Legends of the Dark Black: Episodes from Raveology" is the first of two episodic mash-ups developed for the WreX-Moffed 360 version of Sound Theft Techno IV, developed by Rocksoff Snort.

Episodes from Raveology features a new protagonist, Ruined Septum Nosehoover, who is a member of Liberty Trippy's shape-throwing gang The Raveologists, a gang which is featured in all-night missives, chewing their face off throughout the course of Sound Theft Techno IV."

Or it could just be a poster for a Birmingham club night.

Tuesday Video Club

2009-12-08T16:50:00.005Z

Needobear

2009-11-19T20:13:00.001Z

Zombie Survival Tactics - Expert Advice

2009-10-13T13:39:00.007+01:00

This week, Tom (Mr) Whipple from The Time's Eureka science suppliment wrote an article in which Infectious Disease Researchers at the University of Ottawa were asked, "What would happen if reanimated corpses were able to spread their voodoo affliction by attacking the living?"

The answer?

As a zombie does not die of his or her condition then, "Since all eigenvalues of the doomsday equilibrium are negative, it is asymptotically stable. It follows that, in a short outbreak, zombies will likely infect everyone... Only merciless violence will save humanity."

With SMG2 dropping, it's time to revisit this old chestnut again...

2009-10-11T22:12:00.005+01:00

Nintendo's Wii owners recently saw a free "product" made available to them called "Check Mii Out". This quite frankly hilarious node allows wii owners to anonymously submit the user-created characters into competitions or simply for perusal by other Wii users, who in turn can download the creations to their consoles.

Nintendo is noted for it's strict online safety regulations and, in the usual way, has put the "Check Mii Out" interface in the envelope. There is no way of naming, or putting ownership to the uploaded Miis and they are only categorised using Gender and Talent, along with an initial to represent the name. This is to avoid possible transfer of a child's (or adult's for that matter) personal information and to keep offensive words and imagery out of the the happy happy fluffy Wii world.

While browsing some of the amazing creations on the "Check Mii Out Channel" one character "stuck out" from the other, randomly selected Miis. His face was designed to resemble not that of a man nor woman, but of another creature, probably not of this Earth. His initials were, interestingly "D.H." Can you guess what the initials stood for?

I think some clever so and so managed to slip this one through the Nazintendo Road Block. It's a cock and his name is Richard Head; in case the lobvious simply isn't lobvious enough.
Following this revelation I utilised the built-in facility known as "Call Friends" which will search for SIMILAR THEMED / NAMED MII'S.

Suddenly the shitty search facility is right on the money. Infact, as you will see in the following images, it's right on the money shot. I love Nintendo. Here's Dickhead's friends for your viewing pleasure.....

A motley crew, lead by what looks like Dr Bunsen Honeydew from the Muppet Show.
Let's have closer look.... meep meep meep

Ah, no, I was wrong. It's not Dr Bunsen Honeydew.
It's a big cock and balls. :(

Here's a "friend". "Mr Richard Face". He's pastey like me.
The sack area appears to be in "Winter Sports" mode.

Wey Aye!!! Another Richard Heed. This time he's "crying".
Poor Richard. We are crying too.
Frantically crying.

Another friend, Mr David Hunt appears to have a Lunar Orbiter attached to his chin.
See that little "droplet"? That's the moon.
His favorite position is Space Missionary.

"Mr Dick King" displays a lovely abstract representation of his local Mosque.
Or it could just be a big cock and balls.
Hmm

Meet "Mr David Hall",
with a face resembling a Penile Pachinko machine.

Dear God.

BBC's Antiques Roadshow is the fat momma...

2009-10-11T20:10:00.008+01:00

BBC's Antiques Roadshow is the fat momma to ITV's ugly, deformed daughter they call "The X-Factor".

If you think that the current televisual trend for sneering at undeserving & misguided scum-bags is a modern phenomenon - think again.

Who hasn't tuned in to Antiques "fucking" Roadshow before see the smile wiped off the face of some smug well-to-do when they realise that the BBC's experts have just valued their loot at £20 rather than the £20,000 they had in mind. Similarly, for decades we've loved the moments when a bin-man from Preston empties his belly-button lint out into the palm of our resident expert to find that his acidic-fluff is worth £700k.

Apart from this, BBC's Antiques Roadshow serves no other purpose other than to have something to illuminate the front room while the whole family sleepily farts out their Sunday Roast. Modern, energy-efficient LCD television helps lowers our carbon footprint, while Antiques Roadshow increases the methane footprint to near-poisonous levels.

The beauty of using a lap top on Sunday evenings is that when one is so thoroughly bored with the state of the television in front of them; placing the lap top on one's knees and lifting it to cover your view of the TV can convince the us that we have recently invested in a net-enabled, mp3 playing, HD-ready, porn box with keyboard.

Albeit with the room stinking of faeces and the theme-tune to Antiques Roadshow playing in the background.

In case you or Kotakunt missed it...you didn't!

2009-08-12T22:01:00.007+01:00

Driving around some fields for the benefit of a filthy foreigner, I took the opportunity to fill up some CDs for the road trip. During my 12 twelve mix tape compilation session, I stumbled upon and burned "30 years of hip-hop in 60 seconds" By Jaguar Skillz. The scope of this mix is utterly preposterous and should be grabbed quickfast, especially as it's free from his blog.

The "30 years" track led me to the two-part two-hour mp3 entitled "The Jaguar Skillz Computer Game Shoooooo!" done for the Wireless Beeb when they were running a really embarrassing VG season. It's music and it's awesome awesome awesome and goes on and on and on. Like the "30 years" track, the momentum is ruthless, never letting up or drawing breath and they make you want to get the fuck out of work and straight into gridlocked traffic, windows wound down, farting, smoking and jerking the volume up fullbest.

Part One has some funny Hip-Hop 8-bit interpretations (Goldigger and Ridin' Dirty are great), some SF and an OutRun Arcade OST mix in pt2. Sonic is in there - and an oddly down-lifting sub-smashing dubstepping Super Mario - nuff said. LINK HERE and click on the big image.

Part Two. Sounds like he may have had a hand in some of the GTA infomercials or nicked them, maybe and Cassette boy, or nicked off them, or something Warning: contains Trevor Nelson. And "Name that sample", Used the text up already. LINK HERE for a big number two.

Gross

2009-07-26T21:24:00.002+01:00

Just off to give em a brush. (balls)

1vs100 - Number 1 Champion - The Evidence..

2009-07-26T20:55:00.000+01:00

The mighty HamHock does it again... and they doubt the validity of my 1vs100 answering skills..

After collecting my copy of PuzzleQuest and 800pts I subsequently rewarded myself with this poor image.

Slow News Days - an old OFFS post

2009-07-26T20:45:00.002+01:00

Slow news days get on my fucking tits. There's no such thing as a slow news day nowadays, just a lazy journalist day. Yesterday, on the BBC News website, one of the top stories beggared belief. TOP FUCKING STORIES. It was about an old man who farts.

I kid you not. The story was about a Mr Maurice Fox who was sent a letter, banning him from farting in a Sports and Social Club. A letter. To a farty old man.

It's what old men do. They fart. It's not news. The jobs-worth in the Social club is not news. Unless it's in my free local rag, or in a commercial newspaper, it's not fucking news.

My fucking taxes paid for this lazy West Country Journalist to interview an old man who farts whom now has it in writing that he guffs. The journalist couldn't even get the fucking Social Club to comment. What's the goddamn point of writing the letter in the first place

Apparently he spends two days a week at the nearby Palace Place Club and has had no complaints. Arrrrrrggggghhhhhhh who cares!!!! Who fucking Cares!!! Who? Who?

Apparently the BBC Journalist spends two days a week rubbing his cock instead of actually doing some state-paid journalism. Fuck me days.

I have no problem with regional programming, but if I'm paying for it? Stop taking the piss. They even sent the Tax-Fueled photographer round to take this shot.:

Hello there, I'm the news you know.
I'm old and I drop my guts.

Well done.

But wait. One of the "Top Devon Stories" as of today, is a waste of ink entitled "Cake Treat For Gorilla's Birthday". Wow. Thanks. NewsRound this ain't for fuck's sake. It's NewsSquare and I require four sides of solid investigation with all angle at 90 degrees. Cunts.

Hey some more Devon Top News: "Navy Sex Assault Inquiry Closed.... because of lack of evidence" Great. Maybe we should demand that BBC.CO.UK/DEVON should be fucking closed due to lack of fucking facts.

Hang-on REAL NEWS.... "A 16 year old girl was hit by a bus.....her injuries are unknown, but her family have been informed." Informed of what? Uncertainty? Unknowns?

FUCKING KNOW THE UNKNOWNS NOW!!! I BOSS YOU!!! I AM THE NEWS LORD!! FACT ME!! FACT ME!!!

1 vs 100

2009-07-19T20:52:00.005+01:00

Even after my Aston Villa failure last week, I really did get 10th on the Footy quiz you know. Out of 61,000. With over 200k points you know. Need evidence? OK it looks like it says "DrHomHack" but forget the fact I was rushing to capture Bob's I mean MY success before the screen closed. Errr.

Two fingers dipped in the Chocolate.

2009-07-19T20:09:00.007+01:00

"It's a little bit of what you fancy". Unlike it's yummy chocolate bar the Kinda Bueno website is guaranteed to make you vomit into your mouth. Especially the section where one can hover the cursor over "FANCY THAT!!" making the host tell the ladies to, "Take a pole and tell us 'Who, What and When' ". :o

CLICK HERE......Warning: Contains Excrement...

The content is way more sordid, suggestive and offensive than anything involving a midget Filipino rent boy or a symbiotic bike-penis. Go On. Click it.

Nintendo's Got Balls

2009-07-19T19:57:00.009+01:00

Interesting find yesterday.....

What was once a freebie from some godforsaken games magazine now faces me as an immortal plastic beach ball from 2005. It's only ever been inflated once in it's life and that was over four years ago.

Sitting in a dirty and damp corner of my house, Nintendo yet again prove that they are kings of build quality and longevity. Albeit only in the free plastic inflatables market, rather than games consoles and peripherals.

Great for a game of headers & volleys and now the only Nintendo product I play OUTSIDE of the poo-pan.

1 vs 100 - Aston Villa FAIL

2009-07-12T20:53:00.005+01:00

Nice and easy this one.
Villa are my team. Yeah yeah come on.
Bring it!

"A"

:(

Button got stuck.
The game crashed.
Lag.
Cheating snipers.
I got "Boomer'd".
Thought I was using a POS2 Dualshock.
Accidentally pressed "A".

Max WINS

2009-07-12T20:20:00.009+01:00

"Eleven year old Max from Hall Green, Birmingham has demonstrated just how easy it is for anyone of any age to show their support. Max very kindly donated his PlayStation 2 along with 30 games to the fragile lives appeal to help limited children to have fun.
Max chose to support the appeal after learning about Acorns through his favorite team - Aston Villa - who display our name our name on their football shirts and will be supporting Acorns throughout the appeal.
A big thank you to Max!"

Living in Birmingham. +75pts
Binning off your god awful POS2. +200pts
Binning it off for free "just for the lulz". +50pts
Owning "American Chopper". +25pts
Sneaking the face of Batista into the photo. + 125pts
Supporting The Villa. +100pts
Owning PES and FIFA. -300pts
Probably knowing where Aston Villa play their home games. +5pts
The look on the "limited children's" faces when they were expecting an Xbox360. +1000pts
Grand Total = 1280pts

"A big thank you to Max!" From the barrall-scraping Dr HamHock

Healthy Eating POS Failure.

2009-07-05T19:35:00.004+01:00

Anyone who comments on this post with "Did he died?" get's a special prize.

True Stories of Credit Crunch Gaming

2009-07-05T19:08:00.008+01:00

A three-year-old story for the struggling gamers in this current economic climate....

Firstly, scour a Cornish beach for money. Like a tramp would...

Find a £5 note.

Unlike a tramp, take it to PLAYLAND.
Change £5 into 2p pieces.
Hammer the Penny-Pusher cabinets.

40 minutes later and all coins used, cash-up and count winnings:

Up! 40mins of RED HOT CORNISH GAMING.
Down! 32p

Cane the Lucky Dip.

Win these hot WAREZ.

Buy Cookbook warez - at a high price.

Buy Cider-Tramp-Warez and a Cola.

Total Profit 3p.

Next week we look at how to steal from a beggar in order to obtain 4 credits for Virtua Cop.

Not on a School Night. Not Again.

2009-06-28T23:14:00.006+01:00

Tears of joy - just got served in the boozer

By "served" I mean "kicked out" of another town boozer

Left now to claw at all the passers bye
Bottle of meths and a glint in my eye

Speaking in tongues like a crazy priest
Due to the effects of my alcohol feast

Pants full of shit feeling suitable greased
Could be a lot worse; it's all mine at least.

Shouting "s'av ya cunt" at the lovely ladies
Gobbing at cars and keying Mercades

puking in my mouth while screaming at coppers
It's the perfect soundtrack for the late night shoppers

The warming of my trousers filling with piss
Sticking out my tongue like Hillary Briss

Sitting in the doorway of Walkabout Bar
Clutching at the porn mag bought from the Spar

Speaking in tongues is plainly bizzare
Wonder why my chat up lines aren't getting me far

Time to to get out of this disgraceful plight
Time to drive home at the speed of light

It's not that I'm homeless - just an alcoholic plight
I wish this didn't happen every weekday night

:(

Micheal Jackson, 1943-2009

2009-06-25T22:53:00.008+01:00

According to the Beatles producer Sir George Martin, Micheal Jackson was "the Beatles' Third Man, always there yet somehow elusive". As well as being the "quiet Beatle", he was the rock guitarist who introduced the sitar to British pop music, a stalwart devotee of transcendental meditation, a film producer and an underrated songwriter - his composition Something was recorded by dozens of singers and was the only Beatles song featured in concert by Frank Sinatra.

He was born in Wavertree, Liverpool in 1942, eight months after Paul McCartney and two years after John Lennon. He experienced his "rock 'n roll epiphany", he later recalled, "when I was about 12 or 13 riding my bike and I heard Heartbreak Hotel coming out of somebody's house."

The son of a bus driver, Micheal passed the 11-plus exam and was awarded a place at the Liverpool Institute, one of the city's leading grammar schools. He met McCartney, who lived nearby, on the bus to school and the pair became close friends. When Paul linked up with John in the Quarrymen skiffle group, he tried to persuade the group to invite Micheal to join.

Lennon resisted, unwilling to have a 14- year-old kid in his band. He relented after hearing Micheal's acoustic guitar rendition of the rock hit Raunchy. He realised that having a guitar soloist would allow the groupDuring the remainder of the 90s, Jackson lived quietly in his lovingly restored 19th century mansion in Friars Park, Henley-on-Thames, with his second wife Olivia Arias and their 24-year-old son Dhani.

Their idyllic life was shaken when a schizophrenic Beatles fan, Michael Abram, broke into their home in December 1999. Although he badly injured Jackson, he was found not guilty of attempted murder and was ordered to be detailed indefinitely in a secure psychiatric hospital.

A year before the attack, Jackson, previously a heavy smoker, had revealed he had undergone treatment for throat cancer. After the break-in, Jackson developed lung cancer and received major surgery for the disease in America earlier this year. His death follows last-hope treatment in Switzerland for a tumour on his brain. He is survived by Olivia and their son Dhani.

Micheal Jackson, guitarist, singer, songwriter, born 25 February 1943; died 25 June 2009.

Persian Balls

2009-06-21T20:20:00.006+01:00

I have an issue with Iranians currently marching for peace. I do. A big issue. My issue with the Persian Protesters is that I'm jealous. Jealous that I see people with BALLS putting their lives on the line for parity, freedom and for what they believe is right.

Jealous of the FACT that the UK has over 60 million inhabitants - ALL of who are all capable of being opinionated and general gobshites (myself included), some of whom sit in the DailyMail and Sun forums, a few of whom are constructive in demonstrating their opinion, most of whom just moan.

Moan moan moan moan moan. No action. Just moaning about how we all know better than the next man who's moaning about the guy who moaned about the general level of moaning in Moansborough, Moanshire. But without action? Moaning and no action. No action and a lot of moaning. Aside from it sounding like I'm describing an excruciatingly bad homo-bend porn-film starring Jeremy Kyle and Matthew Wright, it is all we collectively do. Moan and know better.

When there is action on positive subjects, there's never really much press coverage (unless it involves eggs and Nick Griffin / John Prescott) and when there is action on more extreme left-wing or right wing subjects it's always a handful of vigilante mobs embarrassing the human race. Ask the Romanians in toytown, Northern Ireland.

Anti-War-Protests. Remember me? Remember supporting the first protests? Then getting a bit apathetic about it all? Fuel Protests. Remember me? Remember supporting the first protests? Then getting a bit pissed off that you couldn't get your hands on all that expensive fuel you were previously moaning about?
Like Aston Villa's season, all the effort is put in at the start and the momentum simply never carries through. Needed a bigger squad.

It's always pretty fucking difficult to wade through the shitty and scarce information coming out of Iran and to make sense of the scale or truth of the situation, but it's fair to say it's been on the cards for a long while now and needs momentum like Sega needs an enema.

Whether you call them protesters, rioters or terrorists. Whether you think the election was fair or foul. Whether or not you believe in the cause. You have got to want to polish those shiny, pendulous balloons hanging between the Iranian's legs.

WE can't even bring ourselves to protest in a country where you DON'T get shot at for disagreeing with the Government. Well outside of Belfast and Aston, anyway.

Our Froggy French Friends don't seem to have that problem. That's why we hate them; we envy them. Because unlike us here, they have impressively-huge, stinking, sweaty, hairy "protesticles".

Wear your green wristbands if you feel like supporting "teh Iraianins", but do understand that it's green representing envy not just liberation.

KPgoldenwonder's Movie Club

2009-06-16T23:46:00.003+01:00

Cheers Kooper

Hi! Remember me?

2009-06-16T22:28:00.007+01:00

Still deciding what to do with this after 9 months...

I've left my 486 running constantly now for the whole period.

Is it still there?

Could be screenburn on my 15" CRT.

My Body's saying "yes", but my mind's saying "no".

The prompt box says both "yes" and "no".

My soul says "yes", but my tears cry "not again".

Still Undecided, despite the poplularity......

Nah, Still Unsure.
This is more easily understoood....

*Scratches head*
It's called "Shitting Dicknipples".
I know where I am with it.
Still lost about the whole yes / no things.
You still here?
Me too.
So is the question.
Remember that, next time your Uncle Bob offers you a "special biscuit".

Obama Spam. US Fiscal Policy now extends to me.

2009-06-15T15:57:00.004+01:00

"Greetings to you, On behalf of the Obama's Foundation, we wish to notify you as a beneficiary of $99,000,000 USD in compensation of scam victims. Do contact HSBC INTERNATIONAL BANK, United Kingdom Branch for verification and release of your $99,000,000 USD that we have deposited with the HSBC BANK,UK.......

.....Managing Director of the HSBC BANK,Uk
Name: Mrs. Joan Cole Private Email: mrs.joanc@yahoo.com

Yours Faithfully,

Dr.Caravan Marvis Coordinator. OBAMA'S FOUNDATION"

Wimbletron Trail

2009-06-14T21:27:00.006+01:00

Follow the link .... Sans illuminated "helmet"....

... Wiow-wi-wi-wi-wi-wreowwwww

Terminator Salvation Rumours - THE TRUTH

2009-06-14T20:47:00.011+01:00

For those you yet to see the Skynet Wikipedia Entry which is Terminator Salvation, let me indulge you in a few of the SECRETS, slotted in to moisten up the most hardened of fan-boy's discarded "love-socks".

***MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS***

So I made the typeface really small. Just small enough to not really hide the fact that this update (the first in a long time and the first in the new line of regular updates within this flea-pit of a website) stinks of solid-bronze-bottom-boulder.......

1. The Truth Behind Christian Bale's Rumoured Script Re-writes....

You Ask "Mark or Erase?"

We Say.....

"Christian" Bale (Not a nickname used by Mexican lighting technicians - he's known to them as "Stink-Tube-Blomp" Bale) DID get involved with rewrites for Terminator Salvation. Of particular note was his introduction of product placement from little know companies "I.C.S.", "ReKall" and "Omni Consumer Products". Director McG did make it clear that there were further rumours surround the appearance of Bale on set. A runner stated that he saw Bale "suddenly" appear in a "ball of lightening" and that he was "completely naked" asking for "clothes, boobs and scripts".

2. The Truth Around Arnie's Rumoured T4 Cameo....

You Ask "True or Lies?"

We Say.....
The Governator indeed makes a return as Kyle Reese's Peanut Butternut Squash Monkey Butler. Apparently Industrial Light & Magic used a topography analysis of Heath Ledger's death mask and a scan of Arnie from the cover of March 1981's issue of BoobyBuilding USA.

3. The Love-Child of Linda Hamilton and Doc Emmet Brown is "Skynet-Squared"

You Ask "Rekall, Rekall, Rekall or Re-call?"
We Say.....
Sleep required...Losing the plot at this point..I'm sure I just saw David Carradine enter my bedroom, pop a belt around his neck, walk into my wardrobe and peel off the whole of his right for-arm just to show me "what I done". I should really be worrying more about the blatant nepotism surrounding Tim Burton's Faecebook friends list and the gigs given to Helen "John" Bonham-"Get"-Carter. No matter how much cancer the role requires.

Hmmm

2009-05-16T21:37:00.001+01:00

Bit dead in here innit?

Discuss

Saturday's Bog Papers - Wiping on the Guardian

2009-02-01T12:51:00.005Z

One of Us! - Q&A with Pete Postlethwaite.
What was your most embarrassing moment?
Underestimating a spot of flatulence in a pair of white jeans. I was 28 and thought I was the bee's knees.

Chris Dares to Speak the Truth - Have your say Letters - Red Hair
Regarding Mick Hucknall's What I see In the Mirror (17 January), the problem I had with being a redhead at school was that people constantly called me Mick or sang Simply Red songs as I passed. That was far worse than the uncontrollable hair.
Chris Moulin
Shipley, West Yorkshire

Theo Walcott - Interviewed (ie being given shit) by Jack Stott, 6 years old.
Jack Do you play an instrument?
Theo I wish I did! I used to play the recorder. I play RockBand for the Xbox - does that count?
Jack No.
Jack You haven't been there [top of the Premier League] for quite a while.
Theo Sorry?
Jack Ever since I've been watching you, you keep on like [does hand gestures] up, down, up - it's like a big sea.

What I see in the mirror - Julia Houghton, 24. Student and Poet
My family are blond, so I like my brunette hair because it makes me different. I had my belly button pierced when I was 11.
The rest of the article is annoying white noise disguised as journalism. The sort of subsonic din which is purposely set up to make the readers spontaneously and involuntarily drop sausages into the hammock of their underpants.

Matt got out of MY side of the bed today - Culinary Questions Answered by Matthew Fort
I hear the Crock-Pot is the must-have kitchen device at the moment. Is it worth dusting out the one in the attic?
The Crock-Pot was one of the most useless, retrograde additions to the cook's armoury ever foisted on the public......If you have one, smash it up and use the bits to go at the bottom of flower pots to aid drainage.

Nick earns points - Games News - Nick Gillett
Youtube for Wii & PS3
Consoles have been able to access the internet since Sega's Dreamcast over-promised "6 billion competitors" all those years ago. :(

Tom Yum Goong

2009-01-16T00:24:00.005Z

Apart from sounding like a sphincter-scorching oriental side-dish, "Tom Yum Goong" (or The Warrior King as it is sometimes known) has planted it's roundhouse on the surgery DVD player again. Only this time around, the timing of the action is so much better.

DrHamHock has suffered from reoccurring shoulder dislocations for many years and over the xmas season he saw fit to have the crap-joint all sewn back together again by a REAL Doctor. On the first day out of the support-sling, he accidentally chose to watch the Thailand snap-em-up "Tom Yum Goong".

With more bone-breaks, joint-dislocations and tissue-tearing, ripping and twisting, Tom Yum Goong could be mistaken for the induction video at the Kentucky Fried Chicken's meat rendering plant. It's soundtrack was made by a fat man walking over some bubble-wrap for 60minutes while randomly snapping twigs in his hands. It's story is a Roger Hargreaves book shoe-horned-horrifically into one hour of broken plywood and overextended kneecaps.

More snap-crackle-&-pop than your average breakfast cereal, our Fried-Rice Crispies of a film has very little blood other than the pools of it no-doubt welling up as haematomas inside the joints of 200 anonymous henchmen flying lifelessly through the air into something hard.

The Doctor will watch something a little less wince-worthy next time he leaves someone else's surgery.

A Message from our Sponsors...

2009-01-10T21:02:00.002Z

The People Vs That Guy's a Maniac

2009-01-08T09:43:00.002Z

Have a look at Cunzy11's take on The Kotaku Timewaster's Diary
"after the jump"....... Here.
How many emails does it take to get a rise out of Kotaku? [thatguys via Kotakunt via BrownThumbGamer]　[Dic]

Hockipedia - The Free Encyclopeadia #1

2009-01-06T22:14:00.009Z

Dead Side of the Moon Boots (also known as Dark Man's Moon or simply Floyd's Shoes) is a name used to refer to the act of listening to the 1973 Pink Floyd album The Dark Side of the Moon while watching the 2004 film Dead Man's Shoes for moments where the film and the album appear to correspond with each other. The title of the music video-like experience comes from a combination of the album title and the film's name.

Richard has a caulifower for a brain and popping candy for blood.

Real or imagined, the effect is usually created by pausing a CD of Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon at the very beginning, starting the DVD or tape of the film with the TV volume muted, and un-pausing the CD when Richard (the central character) shouts "YOU! YOU CUNT!" to a local drug dealer. (Note some versions insist on pressing play during the drug dealer's question,"What you looking at". The "You. You cunt!" is the right one to use for the sync.) A minority of devotees argue that un-pausing the CD on the second "YOU!" produces a superior alignment. The effect can be repeated during the film by restarting the CD during a scene where Richard, on presenting a dead body to another fiend, asks "Do you want to give him a little kiss?".

Press play.....now.

Another synch point is the appearance of Richard in "elephant" mode, exactly as songs transition from "Speak to Me" to "Breathe". However, this does not match the starting point of the "You! You cunt!. When using this, the screaming from "Breathe" begins right as Richard apears for the first time to terrorise the pikey dealers.

Good Evening.
Would you mind awfully opening the door, Sir?
You cunt.

If the music and movie become unsynched, the one hour point of the movie corresponds to 2:14 of Great Gig in the Sky (using the "elephant" scene as a marker). This means the movie is 8 seconds ahead of the CD (2:14 of Great Gig in the Sky is 16:52 into the CD. The CD is playing a second time, and the entire length is 43 minutes exactly.)

Most users have explored this phenomenon using the original or 1994 re-issue editions of the album in CD format.

Another factor that could affect the quality of the perceived sync is the version of the film used. The NTSC version, used in the United States, runs 101 minutes while the PAL version, used in Europe, runs 98 minutes (due to the system's transfer rate of 30(NTSC) rather than 25(PAL) frames per second). Most users who have made websites touting the effect appear to be based in the USA. When using a PAL version of the DVD, digitally speeding up the album by 4.16% prior to starting fixes any problems with syncing.

Critics of this phenomenon have touted The Dark Side of the Moon and it's alleged synchronicity with The Wizard of Oz as being the precursor to this find. But that's just a load of poppycock.

Poppycock.

Hands On Videogames Review

2009-01-02T19:14:00.010Z

Continuing the great work, once carried out in the old surgery, we now take a look at the single most important factor in the entire videogames entertainment industry; some hands on some artwork. Often overlooked, the icon of the five digits rising has been secondary to many other bodyparts, while primary to playing the games themselves. Take a minute with us now to honour the beautiful appendage and it's flapping pigs-tit we now commonly call "fingers".

LEFT 4 DEAD
One modern piece of artwork we cannot give a thumb's-up to is the four-skinned, metaphoric Left4Dead box-art, which presents us with a four-bird-roast. Like a 20 year-old action-man's hand, perished through age, this hand without an oposable prehensile thumb doesn't need to grip any 1:17 scale weapons, as it belongs to some guy on the floor in the opening L4D movie. He could be dead, he could be alive, he could be the dead-risen-then-went-to-lie-down-again-for-a-bit. It doesn't matter. He's given us a hand-job worthy of Valve's from cover. Call for evac. Bravo. Alpha. Lima. Lima. Sierra.

LAND OF THE DEAD: ROAD TO FIDDLER'S GREEN
Expecting to find a disembodied hand, we are presented with an attached mucky palm, spinning a filthy wire-fence web. While Spiderman may not have anything to worry about, it's obvious to the viewer that 'tis the hand of a fiddler. It's unknown whether one should keep young children away from this fiddler, or whether it's simply plucking away at it's well-polished instrument in the lower decks of the Titanic, we will never know. Just be safe and assume it's a filthy fisherman again on shore-leave.

DEAD SPACE
Like loft-space but a lot colder, with no planetary gravitational effect and with a single hand floating around, looking for a "flukey grab". The blood-splattered intricate, multi-fingered body-parts is a simple warning to those who wish to play the game: In Space, No-One Can Hear You Do Stuff. It might be that there is indeed a disembodied hand floating around upstairs in the loft, but as I'm too scared to go up there on my own I'll never know. I'll get mum to come over and fish around up there sometime. I'll show her the cover of EA's newest blockbuster for reference. I'm sure she's never seen a sliced-off space-man's hand before, so she'll need to know. Unless she does know of course. Which would be worry me a little.

STAR CONTROL
Technically not a hand. An arm-end consisting of five oposable thumbs is either the work of a Jeremy Irons style perverted surgeon, or just simplyvideogame lies. We're not going to waste time discussing the virtues of a cheating fist. We fear that kind of symmetry in a hand. We fear it. This should be banished to the sea-bed; to shuffle around lonely for eternity, making mouth-shapes with it's thumbs and mouthing "I'm sorry".

SPAWN: THE ETERNAL
It's a whole arm. Doesn't really count. Maybe if it had been ripped out of a fisherman's socket by a Sega Bass, it could have been included. Or if the marketing budget was smaller and only the left hand page was used in the campaign. "This is your best Weapon" is the tag line, attached to the ad. Attached I might add with more than just red felt-tip pen, Dolmio and Tesco's beef mince. Which all that held the arm on to the previous pwner.

GOD HAND
The fist that blocked-up a market. For years hardcore gamers cried out for a beat-em-up worthy of their own hands, nobody listened. Apart from Clover Studios. The whole videogame industry strode forth and saturated the casual gaming market with lighter titles. Apart from Clover Studios. Nintendo, Sony and Microsoft made millions of yendolluros from the mass market of softcore gamers. Clover Studios was closed down by Capcom. There end the lesson.
A 10 year-old greasy fist which defined a generation of developers and gamers was hurriedly moving it's way towards Clover Studios; who in their haste to pick up the hardcore gamer's soap, forgot to keep their IPs against the wall.

DEAD MAN'S HAND
The common themes today are that of "hand and death", which is a shame. The poor bastard in this box art looks to be a gonna, killed at the "hand" of a bad sport. What the unsportsmanlike assassin doesn't know is that the dead man's hand really wasn't much of a winning one: Two Aces and an Eight. Great. That'll teach you to bluff.

5 FINGER FILLET
While "5 Finger Fillet" sounds much like a fisherman's wank, please don't be put off by it's hastily researched title. This flash game has little in common with our salty sea-dog's below-deck-trawling and more in common with a famous scene from the science-fiction horror "Aliens". It is infact a very pleasant way to reinact a Hollywood Cyborg party game without slicing a milk-filled vein open. One element of concern may be the heavy breathing you hear while furiously aiming your spacebar into the webbed gaps, but don't worry; it's probably just another trawlerman sucking lovingly on a Fisherman's Friend.

Click here play it here: 5 Finger Fillet

NEXT WEEK: FEET ON FOOD LABELS.

Welcome Back

2009-01-02T18:45:00.005Z

The General Practice of DoctorHock
Floor 2
Bonnie House
Little Wanger
West Midlands

Friday January 2nd 2009

Dear Patient,

Happy New Year. No, I mean it. Maybe more happy for me than for you, but happy all the same.

Having now opened our new facilities here in the heart of the UK, we are pleased to announce that all applicants for practicional registration are GUARANTEED a full, honest, professional and thorough treatment including a free mental health check.

Please do not be put off by the rumours of my absence. I was in no way involved in the systematic euthanising of 326 pensioners over a 9 month period and I did not, in any way, trick my way into the financial rewards associated with the subsequent inheritance of said victims. I mean patients.

We wish you a long pleasant stay.

Kind regards

DrHamHock

CG Dr Lionel Richie

2008-10-20T13:34:00.003+01:00

Hello,

Is it me you're looking for?
'Cause I wonder where you are
And I wonder what you do
Are you somewhere feeling lonely,

Or is someone loving you?
Tell me how to win your heart
For I haven't got a clue
But let me start by saying ... Oh For Fuck's Sake!!

Blips #3 - Return of the Pac

2008-07-15T23:25:00.003+01:00

We like the psychiatrist couch / maze wall gag.

Showing it's age a little bit more, this strip shows a TV screen as having round edges. Far from being a monitor on Apollo 9, this is more like a fucked up version of the Matrix, with the Architect peering at Pac, through a bank of existential CRTs (like he does with Neo, but without the need to look the door and "unzip"). Thisishowthe JOKE SOUNDS TO MEEEEEEEEEEEE.

Dr Hock: "I am Dr Hamhock. I created the Mazetrix. I've been waiting for you. You have many questions, and although the process has altered your consciousness, you remain irrevocably Pizza-Pie. Ergo, some of my answers you will understand, and some of them you will not. Concordantly, while your first question may be the most pertinent, you may or may not realize it is also the most irrelevant."

Pac: "Why am I here? I know it's weird, Doc, but sometimes I have the feeling that someone is controlling my every move."

Dr Hock: "Your life is the sum of a remainder of an unbalanced equation inherent to the programming of the Mazetrix. You are the eventuality of an anomaly, which despite my sincerest efforts I have been unable to eliminate from what is otherwise a harmony of mathematical precision. While it remains a burden assiduously avoided, it is not unexpected, and thus not beyond a measure of control. Which has led you, inexorably, to looking for an excuse to over-eat."

Nescafe Civet Blend

2008-07-14T17:35:00.004+01:00

Neighbour Sue has been caught short and pops next door to ring the doorbell of her neighbour Keith. The advert opens with a close-up shot of a doorbell and a well manicured finger. The bell rings and Keith opens the door.

Sue: Look, I'm sorry to bother you but I'm having a dinner party and I've run out of coffee.

Keith raises an eyebrow while letting Sue through the front door.
Keith: Come in!

Keith reaches in kitchen cupboard and peers cheekily from behind an open cupboard door.
Keith: Will Civet Blend be too good for your guests?

Sue responds, recognising the his flirting and smiles.
Sue: Oh, I think they could get used to it.

Keith: It's a very sophisticated coffee

Sue, taking offence
Sue: They have very sophisticated taste.

Amused by the way Sue bit back, Keith creases the corner of his mouth with a wry smile.
Keith: Do they?

Sue is now visibly annoyed by the, now-cocky, Civet-drinking Keith.
Sue: Yes.

Amused by the way she “blazed” the cocky Keith, causing a rather large and embarrassing pause in the conversation, Sue smiles and turns to leave. Sue: Well I must be getting back

Cuts to pack shot of Civet Blend with voice-over.

Voice Over: “Now Golden Roasted, Richer, Smoother,
Even more shat-out-by-a-cat... Civet Blend”.

Cuts to Sue’s dinner party and to a now-civet-drinking-guest
Guest: Have you met your new neighbour yet?

Sue smiles nostalgically to herself.
Sue: Oh, I’ve….. “Popped in for coffee”.

Sue carries on smiling and remembering that wonderful encounter with Keith earlier. The shot then fades out.

“Now Golden Roasted, Richer, Smoother,
Even more shat-out-by-a-cat.... Civet Blend”.

CLICK HERE FOR FREE SAMPLE

Blips - # 2

2008-07-02T21:43:00.006+01:00

Still here? As funny as the bastard love-child of Barry Chuckle and Bobby Davros. As funny as a poo-pie. As funny as cancer. As funny as the rest of this website.

"Get it?
Hahahahahah
Get it?
AIDS? Get it?
BROWN AIDS? Get it?
Hey what were you expecting?
A joke?"

And that's just the second page.

Even more hilarity next time as we try to pass the wretched, stinging and oversize joke-stool through a tiny, dry, haemorrhoidic balloon-knot while chewing on a piece of said poo-pie.

MonkeyBoobs PLC

2008-07-02T21:30:00.003+01:00

Towards end of 2007 there was a request made by a potential new employer to write a short statement outlining why Dr HamHock would like to work for them. This followed a series of drawn-out meetings with interviewers from across Europe. Suffice to say, the level of bullshit stuffed into this A4-sized automated bum-licking piece of literature was immense. They didn't offer Dr HamHock the job. Dr HamHock believes that they decided to hire the letter instead. It was clearer, better presented, had more facial hair, weighed a couple of stone less and was less inherently xenophobic. It read as follows (the names of all unfortunate parties have been changed just in case they ever contact the surgery again and Google themselves):

Dear Mr HeinzBeanz,

Thank you for the warm reception afforded me on Monday by Mr Jokum Wagstaff and yourself. Our meeting was enjoyable and informative, giving me a much clearer view of your company and the advertised position. I hope that the meeting allowed you to obtain a good insight into my background, experience and personality.

Following this meeting, I am extremely excited and enthusiastic about the role of Project Monkey and at this stage I wish to express my very strong interest in the position.

As you are aware, I am looking for a role which will broaden and develop me professionally and personally. It is clear that your company and position could provide this important development to me, both enriching my experience and horizons.

In my opinion, your UK operation (as well as your other new overseas offices) has been set up with a very professional and thoughtful approach to both it’s staffing and training. With it’s growth and profitability increasing, the UK operation appears to have become quite a success in it’s short lifespan. This seems to be a hugely exciting time for the company and, in turn I am hugely excited at the thought of helping to grow the UK business further and to grow myself within your operation.

The opportunity to work with larger, higher profile, higher specification “world-class” brands and projects is an enormous drawing point for me. Having experienced working with high-specification projects and well known high-street brands it has given me a taste for more of these interesting accounts and projects. Being part of a team which works successfully with demanding, detailed

and interesting accounts is incredibly rewarding and satisfying for all involved. I wish for more and more of this in the future. I believe your company can offer this.

Being a truly international company, MonkeyBoobs Ltd offers tremendous scope for personal development working with overseas colleagues, language development and travel. The size, influence and global presence of Monkey Magic fascinates me and I hope

to experience, first hand, the huge benefits of working with such a strong and diverse team of engineers, managers, designers and manufacturers. This would further increase my awareness and experience and is something I am very keen to sample.

My flexibility, adaptability and willingness to learn / improve and grow with my work can only be a positive addition to your already strong UK team. My knowledge of UK markets, UK customers and logistics combined with specific experience of UK local authorities would help strengthen the service you are currently offering and give the UK office further confidence when taking on new and differing projects.

As you know, I offer a broad background of commercial, design, sales and project / account management skills. This is quite unique and not only does it promote self reliance, it allows effective and educated communication and understanding within all areas of a project, whether dealing with clients queries, or when working with designers, engineers or other colleagues. More importantly, my background allows me to make decisions based on experience and knowledge in nearly all parts of a project’s lifespan.

It is fantastic to think that this experience, job knowledge and current skills-mix fits so very well with the person and job specification you are seeking. All elements of the role are a very close match to the day-to-day activities carried out in my current position. Also, to be told my personality is a good fit was an extremely satisfying conclusion to our discussions.

I look forward to our next meeting; I am confident, from my research and from our previous conversations, that your company will continue to impress. I hope to impress you in return.

Kind regards

Dr HamHock MD

Blips - The First Book of Video Game "Funnies" (1983) #1

2008-06-29T16:05:00.005+01:00

Here's the first in a series of excruciatingly unfunny pages from "The First book of Video Game Funnies", penned originally by an unfunny man called "Jovial Bob Stine".

Maybe I'm being a little harsh, but the ancient tome which is about to be put under my scanner is very much a victim of the culture of videogames and the videogame market: fast moving, ultra trendy, ultra fanatic, uber fickle. The resultant "comedy" is formed from it's embarrassingly old references and the fact it was originally published in a country more famous for cheeseburgers than one-liners.

For the more youthful, ignorant and attention deficit of you, please note that when the "jokes" refer to the "coins" or "quarters", it's referring to a moment in the dark ages of gaming when people left their homes to play video games.

Also if you're confused about the use of the term "can of soda" it means "can of soda". Before multinationals became too lazy to be bothered to distinguish between "American't English" and English, and localise products accordingly, we would have called it a "can of pop" or "orangeade" and saved the bottletops for a 10p return. Thankfully all you cretins born too late to be useful will be quite used to the terms "soda", "color", "math", "Will. I. Am" and "jerk-offs".

And that's just the front cover.

More hilarity next time as we try to slowly post the whole horrible mess, page by page before someone gets the hump over copyright infringement.

"Soul Bubbles" for DS

2008-06-19T11:06:00.004+01:00

Welcome to the opening screen from "Soul Bubbles"by Eidos for the (what the) Nintendon't (do) DS. That right, the opening screen, not hidden in the credits. Not slyly left to "unlock" after completing 10 hours of bubble blowing, slicing and guiding. Click on the fella and have a closer look.

Is this a victory for common sense?....Is this a victory for the Blue Skies in Games Campaign at UKR?......Is this just a piss take?

Does anyone who buys a game called "Soul Bubbles" really expect a free-roaming "glandbox" game revolving around a Hispanic G-Star named El-Biro who gets his kicks from rutting polygonal whores, running awkwardly away from their exploding car in a Versace suit and Adidas Samba, while Phil Fucking Collins plays on repeat?

Maybe we expected a pan-held bubble car racing game called "My Gran's Turismo": racing round the Low Speed Ring in the glamorous Messerschmitt KR175 or wizzing round the Grandma Valley Speedway in the powerful but elegant BMW Isetta 300 or even cruising around the Grindelwald McDonalds Drive Through in a tricked-up Messerschmitt Kabinenroller KR 200.

There is a possibility that the demented consumer (ie 95% of the country) may confuse this title with the beat-em-up "Soul Edge" involving a guy's Hwang and it's battle with a rubber-fetishist called Voldo. "Transcending history and the world, a tale of Hwangers and Rubber, eternally retold."

We await the release of the (not yet planned) sequel "Our Soul Bubbles" and a suitable disclaimer with it too. Please don't let us down.

Complaint #2

2008-06-18T13:00:00.007+01:00

Loyal Bank of Scotchland
15 High Street
Ipswich
IP33 7TH

Wednesday 18th June 2008

Dear Mr Thornton,

I'm writing to express my distrust and embarrassment with your Loyal Bank of Scotchland and the service I have had over the last year: In particular, the service you yourself have tried to provide.

My mortgage was taken out successfully with your company last year, with a view to buying a small kitten-shaped house just off the Hampshire coast. During the process of finalizing the sale, the mortgage was issued for the correct amount and the property was purchased. My complaint is that the Kitten-House was not exactly as your survey suggested and due to this oversight by your company my life has been a living hell. With the emphasis on "been, "a", "living" and "hell".

It appeared that the furry-home was in fact a sentient being: a complete and fully matured domestic cat, 60ft tall, weighing 100 tonnes, fully carpeted with gas central heating, and filled with cheap IKEA furniture and a nostalgic but worthless record collection.

Over the last year it has developed a habit of wandering around in the night bounding after crazy-golf parks and airplanes like some kind of furry, playful Godzilla, only to return in the early-hours to its resting position of 32 St Johns Road, Portsmouth, where it skillfully mimicked the odd, but sought after look of a two-story semi-detached tabby with ginger and white furry driveway.

While one can adapt to this ever changing feline-abode, your survey did not pick-up on the fact that every 2 weeks my house coughs-up 10ft balls of weapons grade cat hair, which is becoming increasing more difficult and dangerous to dispose of. Particularly with Mr Jenkins (of no.30 St Johns Road) being quite the nosey-curtain-peeper his is.

Mr Jenkins even had the audacity to pop a note through the door a few weeks ago saying, "please do not park your irradiated cat-hair on the path, it is illegal under section 33 of the highways act to block a public footpath".

As you can see this is causing me a lot of bother and could have been avoided had your surveys been carried out in the thorough manner in which you stated they would.

I await you swift reply and hope that you can offer a resolution to this terrible problem. Must dash, Mr Jenkins is knocking at the front maw. Our tail has blocked his Ford Tigre in and he's having kittens.

Kind Regards

Dr H Hock MD

D.W.A. Democrats With Attitude

2008-06-11T13:42:00.001+01:00

[Bill "Sleazy-E" Clinton]
Oh, shit. I guess there's one less bitch you gotta worry about, Barack.

[Dr Hamhock]
Let's describe a certain female. A female with the disease of character
and attitude. If you will, a snob. However, in a view of DWA...

[Ice Obama]
Hillary's a bitch
I'm not poor I'm rich
I talk in an ethnic pitch
Now, the title bitch don't apply to all women
But all women have a little bitch in 'em
It's like a disease that's plagues their character
Takin' politicians of America
And it starts with a letter B
It makes a girl like her think "vice-presidency"
See, some get mad and some just bury
But, yo, if the cigar fits wear it
It makes 'em go deaf in the ear, that's why
when you say 'hi' she won't say 'hi'
Are you the kind that think you're too damn fly?
Bitch eat shit 'n die
Ice Obama nominated at crazy pitch
(Why?) I think Hillary's a bitch

[Hillary]
'Who the fuck you think you're callin' a bitch you sorry little muthafucka?
I dunno who the fuck you think you're talkin' to. Let me tell you one
muthafuckin' thang, I'm not a...'

[Bill "Sleazy-E" Clinton]
'Bitch, shut the fuck up.'

[Ice Obama]
Yo, you can tell a nominee that's out for the money
She plays the race-card and the bitch look funny
She ain't no dummy she's right and conniving
Yo bitch, fuck when I'm driving
See a young nigga that's striving
You're thru' without your auto-cue
That's why Bill's bitch is a bitch I guess
or ether P-M-S
Here, test the girl that's kinda snobby
And I bet you dissing niggas is her hobby
And after she finished the test
Write's her name as "B-I-T-C-H"
And watch her lose votes 'cause she know it's true
But a nigga like me, I say 'fuck you'
Do like Obama, slam her ass in a ditch
'Cause Hillary Clinton's a bitch

[Hillary]
"Why I got to be a bitch?"
[Ice Obama]
I ain't call you no bitch
If you'd listen to a goddamn song it'd tell you what a bitch is
[Hillary]
"Fuck the song cause I'm not no muthafuckin bitch"
[Ice Obama]
I didn't say you was a bitch
If you stopped actin like a goddamn bitch
[Hillary]
"Fuck you, lil punk-ass lil nigga!"
[Ice Obama]
Fuck you, bitch!
"Fuck you! Who the fuck you think you are?"
Little sorry-ass scandalous-ass ho
[Hillary]
"Yeah I'ma bring ma bitch"
[Ice Obama]
Fuck you! Suck my dick, bitch!
Bill's scandalous-ass doody dogg breath smoking...

[Ice Obama]
I once had a rival who got slack
Cause she played me, like she was all that
A bitch can be Bill's best friend fuckin' behind your back
While Bill's working late with Monica on his lap
Look at your votes for me
Now do they fail, categorically?
Are you the kind that won't blink
Cause you don't think, your policies stink?
Lucky I haven't had a drink
Cause I'd down you ass, then I'd clown your ass
Cause the niggas I hang with are rich
We'll all say "She's such a bitch!"
Now, what I can do with a ho like you
Bend your ass over and then I'm through
Cause you see Obama ain't takin' no shit
Cause I think, Hillary's a bitch

[Dr Hamhock]
There you have it - the description of a bitch
Now ask yourself, are they talking about you?
Are you that funky, dirty, money-hungry, scandalous
stuck-up, hair piece contact wearing bitch?
Yep, you probably are - HAHAHAHAHAHAHA~!

[Bill "Sleazy-E" Clinton]
Bitch"

How Reviews Sound To Me

2008-04-09T12:58:00.010+01:00

Title: Ninja Gaiden Dragon Sword
Platform: Nintendo DS
Developer: Team Ninja

Playability
Following a weekend in Northumberland, the charger of my DS Lite was packed away and in the excitement to get home and play Ninja Gaiden Dragon Sword, it became lost in a Tupperware container for 9 days.
The game is designed to move at the pace of penmanship, but not at the pace of batterymanship or lostthechargermanship, which is a shame, as Team Ninja really could have held the game back to "finish up" some of these flaws, instead of rushing it to market.
Amazingly there was no option to select regarding this particular problem and the in-game mapping system did not indicate what the required power device was.
After reading GameFAGS it became clear that I need to continue the hack and slash on my spare DS.
The use of the large console and a flimsy extendable stylus was embraced by the superb mechanics of the game and I was soon wrapped up in multiple grip-styles and stylus holding techniques. Both of these variations allowed for complex control and fighting system which became second nature after a short while.
A slow start, but a completely worthwhile playing system. Good Job.
8/10

Sound
Having moved to the DS Phat I was impressed indeed that the speakers were in fact LOUDER on the old machine and considerably clearer, with some of the top-end being muffled due to food/dust/crud littering the speaker-holes.
Team Ninja have brilliantly incorporated subtleties in the aural presentation which alleviate any food-based soundtrack difficulties. The Ninja Gaiden manual cleverly advises us to use the stylus in all situations and a small poke with the stylus tip cleared dust and fluff from out of the speaker slot, allowing even more enjoyment of this amazing title.
A truly magnificent achievement.
9/10

Graphics
Another area the game excels in, much to my surprise, is in its graphics when being used on the outdated DS.
Although the screen has a large scratches on the lower (right) touch-screen part, Ninja Gaiden make easy work of these performance inhibitors and ran it's pre-rendered blood-spilling beautifully and smoothly.
The spare handheld offers less grease-spots that it's newer "Lite" counterpart and the developers really did an awesome job of preempting the low levels of natural light by my sofa, which completely made-up for the slightly dimmer screen brightness.
An awesome display of hardware understanding.
10/10

Overall
Overall, Ninja Gaiden Dragon Sword is a worthy title for anyone looking to lose the power source to their console, it's an action-packed game and will to tide you over until the release of the next console or ac adapter. Team Ninja should be praised for being bold enough to move in such an unconventional direction and although it's not a typical Ninja Gaiden title, it’s still a pretty decent game that any slack-minded and disorganised gamer should consider.

9/10

Piss take by Dr Hamhock MD

Dear Patrons

2008-04-09T12:35:00.005+01:00

The Surgery
84b Harley Street
London
W1G 9PZ

Wednesday 9th April 2008

Dear Patrons,

It's been dry period the last few weeks what with work gripping the shit out of us all (medical term) coupled with my panicked attempt at infiltrating IOC all on top of my trying to steal enough cash from the local charity-shops to allow the Surgery to close while I'm away in Africa, where man began.

The completely wonderful Mrs HamHock (who is also a nurse in this fine establishment I might add) has only gone and booked a holiday in the sun for us both.

Wonderful. Spending three months caring for injured wildebeest in a west-African ju-ju camp is not my idea of kicking-back I can tell you. What?

Ah if only all of this (with the exception of little miss HamHock) wasn't a figment of my imagination, my surgery might actually start treating patients who don't only have lactating boils, rectal-pipe-twists and/or prolapsed vaginas.

Until next time. Until next time.

Kind regards

Dr HamHock MD

The Shopping of the Bull

2008-03-26T17:36:00.000Z

Pamplona this 'aint. Coming soon.

I Did it Miyamoto's Way

2008-03-18T09:42:00.004Z

And now, the end is near;
And so I face the final trade-in.
My friend, I'll say it clear,
Still warranteed, of which I'm certain.

It's lived a life thats full.
And been played on every highway;
And more, much more than this,
I did Wii my way.

Games, it's had a few;
But then again, too few to mention.
I did what I had to do
And saw it through without exemption.

I played each rated title;
Each gaming great along the byway,
But more, much more than this,
I did Wii my way.

Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew.
But through it all, when there was doubt,
I pressed 'reset' and threw it out.
I faced it's hell but waggled well;
And did Wii my way.

For 'stars', I'd jump and glide.
I've had my fill; my share of losing.
And now, as fun subsides,
I find it all so unamusing.

To think, I did all that;
And may I say - not in a shy way,
"No, oh iiiiiiit's not a-meeeee"
I did Wii my way.

For what's a gamer, what has he got?
If not great games, then he has naught.
To play these things he traveled far;
until he broke his 'sensor bar'.
The record shows I took the blows -
And did Wii my way!

3 Things to Do Now Masterchef has Finished

2008-03-17T09:49:00.007Z

1. PastaDeaf
Wander into the local shopping centre and over the course of a month, carefully identify three people with the following aesthetics:
1 x Irishman with moobs, boils and sweat.
1 x Annoying bitch with boils, sweat and no lower jaw.
1 x Sweaty, crying Sideshow Bob/Thin Mick Hucknell.
When the chance is presented to you, follow each of them into to a public lavatory and force them into a cubicle. Lock the cubicle door and start to bawl, "Cooking doesn't get tougher than this" at them incessantly for14 hours straight, while punching at their faces repeated with a potato ricer and fiercely forcing uncooked spaghetti into their ear-canals. Collect any tears, wax or blood and force the victim to "prepare a restaurant-quality dish from ONLY the ingredients provided".

2. MashedaChef
Put on the new series of "Delia" on (BBC2 Mondays 8:30pm) and spend the entire bone-shattering 30minutes throwing 20kgs of packet-mix mashed potato at the TV screen in a bid to build-up a 3D image of Gordon 'Potato-face' Ramsey. Every single throw of potato MUST be accompanied by the mantra of "You've got two minutes". If the face of Gordon is not created in the time allowed, the process must be repeated continually for the next 6 days, while blind-folded and playing the pre-recorded back-catalogue footage of Delia's TV career from 1973 to 1998. Any instant mashed potato made-up AFTER the original Monday night programme must be made up using tears, urine or blood.

3. RastaDeath
Shave one's head, slip on a rainbow coloured-woolen hat, pop a couple of pillows down the front of your cheapest suit and wipe Bovril (or the vegetarian equivalent Marmite) into the face to darken the complexion. Now you are disguised as Masterchef's very own toad-like Gregg Wallace in Rastafarian garb, walk out into the road and wait for a cat. Tempt the cat into your arms using milk, fish or any excess 'Bovril self-tan' and gently introduce the cat to your own home, treating it the whole time with food, strokes and freedom of territory-marking.
After 4 weeks of repeated tapping-up, wait until the next weekday at 8:30pm, turn on BBC2 and, holding-aloft said cat by the tail, shout "Master-Master-MasterChef...Hoooooooooooooooooo", before flaying it's furry body 200 times into the face of your television set. After 30minutes if you do not receive 'sight-beyond-sight' then repeat the whole process for the next 7 years.

Cheer Up Love...Brum's Not So Bad

2008-03-11T21:53:00.003Z

"Why are you looking at me like that? What have I done? Look, it was the cat, or just my socks I dunno!! I swear. I wouldn't do that. Not in here. Not in the bedroom. Maybe in the toilet. Maybe it followed me in 'on my clothes' or something. Oh for fuck's sake."

Videogame Leaderboredom

2008-03-11T12:15:00.009Z

Just one more go ooh one more go. Arrrgh why did I rush for that??!!!! Arrgh. Speed not Greed!!! Another life gone. Another hour of my life poured away into the mouth of a gurgling time-bandit.

What is it about leaderboards? Joining the faceless and anonymous geeks around the globe for a sandpapered circle-jerk, all common in the knowledge that you've spend too much time doing something worthless over and over and over again. Then going back and repeating the event. 15,000 times. Then becoming furious. Just like the feeling you get when you start your first full time job. Or the shallow feeling following a ruthless act of autoerotic nubbing.

If you're going to perform this repetitive filthy act, surely you're better off creating something tangible something for the braindead to stand around and point at: maybe create racing car out of matchsticks (it exists, honest), or create a ship out of meat (that too), or go on a Spree-killing. Or go on a spree-killing. Or go on a spree-killing. Or go on a spree-killing. Spree Killing. Killing. Kill. Yeeeeesssssss.
The position of #1 on the school-spree-killing leaderboard is really rather attainable. With around 900 rounds of ammo fired and only 12 kills from 35 hits, the Kids from Columbine scored poorly, it almost seems like a wasted effort. Surely the #1 is there for the taking and would require half the time and effort required during the complete mastery of a videogame. Although it WOULD involve you getting up off of your face fucking arses.

The whole sorry score-chasing culture is a hole we dig ourselves, fill-up with doggy-dit, hose-down until sloppy, then dive into the disgusting mess mouth-first and have to eat our way out to avoid drowning. Leader-boards are like skag and turn you into egocentric dribbling buffoons who's self importance on the ladder-of-suck begins to take a leap into the embarrassing.

On the subject of which, what's this?....

With that in mind, well....."being Global WiFi Leader of Geometry Wars is of great importance to the Surgery and me. More important than kissing my future first-born. More important than all friends and members of my family surviving future horrific car-accidents. It's implication on all of the world's state of affairs, the UK's homeless and the de-forestation of South American rainforest's is unprecedented. In fact if you went up to anyone in the street right now, at random, in any city in any country, and uttered "No.1? That Be Doc HamHock see!" they'd give you a knowing nod of appreciation and respect. Maybe even a high-five or a meal-for-one. To expect anything less would be insulting to the entire human race. If N.W.A. had been aware of this momentous turning point in human evolution, their words, "You are about to witness the strength of street knowledge" would have been changed to "You are about to witness the strength of HamHock's large skills", and John Lennon would have taught the world's leaders to sing "Let it Be (like Dr HamHock) scoring skills of wisdom, Let it Be". Hear Me Now, you will bear witness to - Wait a Minute...."

...Hang on. Hang on one minute. On closer inspection, the title of the planet, on which I am King, has a certain "Je Ne Sais Dunno" to it. On closer inspection it appears to have found-me-out. On closer inspection there may be something about my planet's name in which destiny had a huge hand in making. On closer inspection I think someone has continued the life-long act of knocking me back down when I'm finally on top.

On closer inspection...

Welcome to the perpetual power of geekness. Another life lost. Game over man. Game over.

El Casi Immunitas

2008-03-06T11:12:00.003Z

'Bividus Digestivum' or 'Bifido Bacterium'.
Turning bums into double-barreled shotguns.
Farting out your hole like a big bass drum.
Leaving all the air with a familiar hum.

'Lactobacillus Regularis'
Forcing dung out just like a Polaris.
If not a solid 'missile' then probably in bits.
So many brown-bombs it'll feel like the 'Blitz'.

Now due to the poo, 'Fritz' is quitting hitting Britain,
Sitting at home he simply can't stop his shitting.

"Lactobacillus regularis"
Turns your colon into a Shit-Brown Tardis.
The tiny bott-hole-exit hides a bigger illusion.
As inside, your colon now holds a 500ft extrusion.
It's very name suggests you'll get the regular squits
Whatever happened to a spoonful of 'Syrup of Figs'?

El Casi Immunitas;
'evacuatum' your 'stinkumass'
New rectum freedom:
no 'troublesillius tagnutium'

'Stoolitum liquidium'; not quite like 'Liquid Snake'.
Videogame poo floating in a probiotic lake.
Metal Gear 'Solid' is now Metal Gear 'Fluid'
Praying to the pan like ancient stealth Druid.

A 'Probiotic Culture'.
Attacking like a vulture.
Pecking at your bottom-eye.
Forcing out your Cottage Pie.

What a load of pseudo-scientific 'boswelox'

The Lego Gatling Gun Haiku

2008-03-02T13:59:00.003Z

Maybe an Old Vid
Click Here For Rubberband Dream
But Old Can Mean Cool

The Fresh Prince of Obama

2008-02-29T10:06:00.005Z

Now this is the story all about how
My life got flipped, turned upside down
And I’d like to take a minute just sit right there
I’ll tell you how I became the Democrat's black Tony Blair.

In west Hawaii born and raised
In the Law School is where I spent most of my days
Chilling out, maxing, relaxing all cool
And all shooting some b-ball outside of the school
When a couple of guys who we’re up to no good"
Started making trouble in my neighbourhood
I got in one little fight and my mom got scared
And said "we're moving you to Illinois to be a millionaire"

I begged and pleaded with her the other day
But she packed my suitcase and sent me on my way
She gave me a kissin’ and she gave me my ticket
I put my walkman on and said I might aswell kick it

First class, yo this is ain't bad,
Drinking champagne out of an orange juice glass
Is this what the people of Illinois livin’ like,
Hmm this might be alright!

I whistled for a cab and when it came near
The license plate said "fresh " with DC in the mirror
If anything I could say that this cab was rare
But I thought now forget it, yo home to my lair

I pulled up to the White House about seven or eight
And I yelled to the Clintons "yo, home smell you later"
Looked at my kingdom I was finally there
To sit on my throne as the black Tony Blair