I was reading Chaucer’s The Dirty Dick the other day and having a great time, but then I had to stop, because it doesn’t exist.
OK, so I get a couple emails a week asking all kinds of questions about the site so rather than being nice and continuing to reply to them I’m just going to write this and hope that the curious know what a search bar does and maybe get a clue for Christmas this year. What’s that smell? Jesus, it’s, fuck is something burning? Oh yeah – it’s from that sick burn I just administered. Get yourself some ointment pronto, Tonto.
What does Rambleast actually mean, sir? (Sample inquisitors: “iAmJonathaNDAviSesVocals”, “platonic_miasma”, “Barry Quinn”)
It doesn’t mean anything in English. It might mean something in other languages but I don’t know any other languages beyond what a 16 year old knows of French. Parlez vous Francais, Rambleast? Oui. I mean, non. So yeah, I don’t know what it means.
But I DO know why I chose it…
Is the T being below the Rambleas on the left side of the site intentional? (Sample inquisitors: “Burned”, “WTFuk”, “klenchedhole”
Who’s the guy in the header picture? (Sample inquisitor: The genuine Teeshocked Bertie Aherne)
That’s my uncle Patsy. I took a picture of him and digitised it with a free program I downloaded called patsyfix. I don’t know where the orange came from because I took the photo against a yellow background.
Why don’t you write anymore? (Sample inquistors: the millions of Rambleast readers every day)
I’m working on it, chill. Fix yourself a nice tall glass of shut up juice. What are these? Is it not some words? If you dined on words you read on the internet you’d not be fucking wanting right now, now, would you?
What happened to all the pages you used to have? (Sample siiiiiiiiiiiigh…)
They’re still on the site but you have to look for them. I didn’t like that they
Hey, can I’ve the lend of a fiver for the bus home?
How would that even work?
You’re in a bit of a mood.
Like anyone thinks I’m being serious. You don’t even exist.
Are you going to keep writing for Blast Process and The Peter Cushing Appreciation Society like you were a few months back to great acclaim?
Absolutely, as soon as I finish this job.
When is that?
Is it true that you learned how to spell that word as soon as you realised it had the word NES in the middle?
And you’re annoyed by the fact that people sometime refer to it as the En Ee Ess when it’s clearly pronounced Nez?
Well, I don’t even care. Like that’s a frequently asked question.
So, what else have you got planned?
Well, the things I’ve always wanted to get done are a comprehensive study of the albums produced by Scott Burns and a look at comics and how stupid they are. Also, and this sounds like something a little kid would say, but I’ve been really interested in Hercules recently?
Yes. Did you know his name was actually Heracles?
I care in negative digits.
I am you.
How did I get to be in bold?
We switched a few questions back.
Look, I’m calling the shots here. Get back to the FAQs, you figment.
O kayyyyy…when can we expect a list or something? Tomorrow? At around 9pm?
Tomorrow, around 9pm.
Fine, we’ll see you then.
This was a bad idea…
What did the Internet Spider LOVE to do? Surf the web*
*The World Wide Web.
While studying highly illegal but sexy and dangerous science in the Arctic wastes (so as to avoid detection by the rozzers) I was able to, in addition to curing scabies and developing an alternative to SPAM (which I christened ‘Munge’), perfect the process of cloning. As the months dropped from the calendar (a special shedding calendar I made as I’m dead clever) I found my food supply was dwindling and my chances of a successful journey to the mainland to re-up were slim due the the particular conditions of that season’s weather (which was, to put it frankly, shite). My most obvious recourse was to create a clone of myself for consumption. With a heavy heart (and a knife and fork) I created and ate a perfect double of my already perfect body.
And people say I’m full of myself.
In my quest to crack the Amazon Top 100 reviewers list with my original (read: earned) ranking I’ve culled a good 40+ reviews from my profile, most of which I either no longer agreed with or were particularly unpopular and whose continued presence on the site would mean more and more unhelpful votes. I’ve also, for my own satisfaction, reduced to a great degree the amount of five-star ratings I’ve doled out in an effort to preserve the integrity of the highest available rating in a forum that enforces them.
Seeing as a few of the following so-called ‘comedy reviews’ weren’t faring so well I’ve decided to stick them on here before I delete them so they can tickle my ribs at a later date. Basically, these are all for items which were sent to me for review and rather than actually using them I just made stuff up. Though my completely original and non-derivative lampooning skills have spawned many imitators and developed a strong fanbase, they just have to go if I’m ever to overtake that genuinely talentless Sean Paul McCann cunt.
The Stranger (Stone Cold Steve Austin film):
“The Stronger is an oddity in the canon of American cinema. It stars “Stone” Steve “Cold” Austin, a former WWF and WWE and ECW and WCW wrestler and an actor and also philanthropist in the title roll, but curiously the rest of the cast is comprised of absolutely nobodys that I ever heard of.
At the start of the film Steve’s character Gregga begins a fighting tournament to see who is toughest in the estates he lives in and wins the battles, earning him self the title of ‘The Stronger’ and also he buys a gun (seen on the DVd cover) with which to protect himself as many of his opponents are also psychos who now want to kill him and live in his house with his dog Bongo.
He fights the men (and three women, dubbed ‘Five Sex Seven’) throughout the film in honestly quite excellent fightscenes and the action is really tough. In one scene he GETS HIS EYE POKED OUT and then he puts it in again and continues the fight and pushes his enemy Hard Hard Kevin (played here by Smith Mexigoal) onto a “living sea” of turtles in the London Zoos.
And overall, if I say you’re an action fan you then should watch this film, especially if you like or liked AUSTIN’S previous films, the Hispanic King Arthur comedy ‘Excaliburrito” and character piece ‘Beaten For Hours. ”
Doctor Who: Logopolis (Audiobook)
Logopolis is a classic Doctor Who tale originally written by character creator Arthur Conan Doyle in the 1930s, and adapted into one of the series’ most memorable teleplays in the 70s, notable for being the only episode to have the late Prince Sean Connery as the titular physician. This latest audio version is perhaps the strongest of the three takes, as it focuses almost entirely on the citizens of Logopolis, and presents us with a view of Who’s actions from his nemeses, Doctors When, Why, Where, How and Patel. Archive recordings of Connery from classic movies Goldfinger, The Hulk For Red October and Highlander 2: The Quickening are digitally spliced to recreate his voice in a way that’s restrained and classy, seamless and welcome. Other cast members taking on classic roles include Alice Eve as K9, Dean Gaffney as Davro and Ted Baker as Tom Baker as Doctor When.
The plot may prove a little light for those weaned on Russell Davies’ latter-day efforts but for a 30s-50s audience it cut the cake. Logopolis is an entirely wooden city in the Fartle Sector besieged by a great many criminals. Like I mentioned earlier, much of the story is recounted from the criminals’ and Doctors’ points of view, and Connery doesn’t show up until the last episode, and even then he spouts only vague nonsense about beetles with earmuffs and the value of immortality.
The sound design of this effort is the real reason to pick it up though. The oaky creak of Logopolis is rendered thoughtfully, the splintering woods and crackling flames as real as if your very speaker cabinets had caught alight….oh…oh dear me. ”
Doctor Who: Demon Quest (Audiobook)
“Dr. Ted Baker returns after a fifty year absence to show Karen Gillan what a REAL Doctor, er, sounds like. Demon Quest is a newly begun series written by the consonant-fond Paul Magrs and starring the tooth’d one as Doctor Whoh on an adventure that would give any modern episode a run for its money.
Sylvester McCoy. Paul McGann. Bill Hartnell. PATRICK TROUGHTON. Christopher Ecclestone. Alan Rickman?
Listen on… “
OH NO! THE PIG’S HAD AN ACCIDENT! CALL A HAMBULANCE!
I’ve begun to notice the usual deluge of celebiographies taking up space on the shelves in time for Christmas, and most years am quite happy to let this slide. Should I care that someone wants to read Carol McGiffin’s life story? No. I’m prepared just to prejudge massive sadness on that poor reader’s part. Something else has transpired this year, though, that demands attention. Danny Dire, apparently unhindered by the fact that his latest cinema release (we’re ignoring the direct-to-video efforts here) grossed a total of just over £80 (not a typo), has decided to capitalise on his fame with an autobiography, helpfully titled ‘Straight Up: The Real Me In My Own Words’. It’s a good thing I saw the words ‘me’ and ‘my’ on there beside the full-cover shot of mister Dire, or I might have presumed he’d written a novel.
This same problem confronts me with nearly every celeb book I see these days. I need a handy pronoun on the cover to help ascertain that the book is about the person whose face is its cover, and often whose surname is its entire title. Case in point- “Gerrard: My Autobiography”. Thank you. There’s no WAY I’m going to pick that up thinking it’s some freshly squeezed crime fiction. So too “Parky: My Autobiography”. Gotcha. Upon hearing that actor Simon Pegg has released an autobiography I entered my local bookshop (Page And Onion Stuffing), and while I saw a book with his face and name on it, I couldn’t spot a ‘me’, ‘my’, ‘story’ or crucially ‘autobiography’ and thus had to leave without the book, which I have yet to find. Handily, I was able to pick up copies of “My Autobiography” by Sadie Frost, Gok Wan, Jade Goody, Alan Sugar, Robbie Fowler, Joe Cole and whoever the fuck Jamie Carragher is, as well as “My Story” by Michael McIntyre, Lynda Bellingham, Dannii Minogue (which seems particularly good, as I found out while looking through it for mentions of Kylie), Justin Bieber (40 pages in total) and Torres The Footballer. I even pushed the boat out and bought “My World” by Peter Andre, unashamed to pick up a book whose title is very tenuously based on a song from a Disney musical he once covered.
I just want to get back on track here before I post a gallery of gloriously thoughtless and self-involved book-covers-for-cretins below. You may recall I mentioned above the release of Danny Dire’s Hard Man: My Life In My Flat With My Hard Mates And Fit Girlfriend (Who Is Mine) or whatever it’s called. The paradoxical nature of the book raises the obvious point: the very sort of people the book is aimed at won’t actually be able to read it. Goodnight.