Fuck John Galt

To begin, I will quote Paul Krugman, because if you’re going to start an inevitable argument, you might as well start with a Nobel Prize winner: “There are two novels that can change a bookish fourteen-year old’s life: The Lord of the Rings and Atlas Shrugged. One is a childish fantasy that often engenders a … Continue reading

Name Calling and Godwin’s Law

In light of world events. Recession, Greek bailouts, American elections, uh… stuff, etc, there has been a lot of comparisons to Hitler. This is ridiculous. Please stop it. You’re making small children and animals cry. Angela Merkel and Barak Obama, and countless other people (yes, even George W. Bush) are nothing like Hitler. Using this … Continue reading

YES

Fucking yes. http://hackneyhipsterhate.tumblr.com/post/791630426/claptonhousepartycunts That is all.

Um. No.

Stumbleupon brought me across this heap of shit: Surely if there was that much ‘chemistry’ you’d fucking know about it. Unless you had paralysis localised solely in your cock-and-bollock region. I suggest a Stalinist internet purge.

More Kindred Spirits?

Now, you will know by now that we fucking hate hipsters. Any accidental hipsters must go through a thorough screening process before they talk to us. They must be cleansed. Real bone fide hipsters must go through a firey building wearing nothing but a moustache, riding a fixed-gear bike we doused in petrol only minutes … Continue reading

Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. Way.

I’m not going to lie. I don’t walk at a particularly fast pace. In fact I walk kinda slow. If I am walking with someone else, most people in fact, chances are they will end up a couple of metres in front of me before they turn around and huff and wait for me to … Continue reading

Manufacture THIS

Manufactured pop. The musical equivalent of prison rape*. Am I the only one who is shit sick of these charlatans who call themselves ‘musicians’? Any bugger with a half decent voice can win a karaoke contest. But unless you write your own songs, don’t bother calling yourself a musician. You’re just a little puppet. Seriously, … Continue reading

What I Wouldn’t Give For Explosives…

It’s one in the morning.   It’s hot.   There is no fan or air conditioning.   Opening the window leaves you subjected to the sounds of China’s ongoing bid to build until ever later hours.   Closing the window doesn’t keep out the noise.   And then there is a motherfucking car alarm.   … Continue reading

Orange Skin, Blonde Hair, Ugg Boots and Minis

Are you the kind of person who is permatanned beyond the likes of David Dickinson? Do you wear footwear apparently worth hundreds of pounds, but are completely incapable of withstanding rain? Do you spend hours on your bleach blonde hair to make it look like you’ve just woken up? Do you laugh like a horse? … Continue reading