Tuesday, 24 April 2012

What pop has taught me so far this year.

I have to endure Radio 1, all day, every day, during the week at work. It's difficult and it makes my day much harder to bear.

When I listen to music I listen to the lyrics and try to work out what the song means. This throws up an interesting paradox as most pop songs have no, or limited meaning.

However from listening to Radio 1's constant stream of 'popular music' I have ascertained the following-

The Wanted- I keep taking a pop at this lot, but I can't help it, they make it so easy. Anyway on current rotation is the stellar 'Glad you came'.

Here's a section of the lyrics:

"Turn the lights out now
Now I'll take you by the hand
Hand you another drink
Drink it if you can
Can you spend a little time,
Time is slipping away from us so stay,
Stay with me I can make,
Make you glad you came"

As you can clearly see 'Glad you came' is the date rapists anthem. In short, The Wanted = Date Rapists.

Connor Maynard- Pop's new uber star. Bieber better watch out, this fella has a cap, and isn't afraid to wear it a skewif angle.

Let's look at a section of his breakthrough song, 'Can't say no':

"Some girls are naughty,
Some girls are sweet,
One thing they got in common, they all got a hold on me,
Meet them at the party,
Meet them in the street,
Getting me in so much trouble but that's alright with me,
They got my engines turning,
This happens every time,
I see a pretty girl and,
I wanna make her mine"

You probably remember at school there was always one lad that would go on about his never ending stream of sexual conquests. It got to the stage where he probably believed the lie, but everyone else knew he'd never had a sniff. This my friends is Connor Maynard. Connor Maynard = Boasty virgin.

Carly Rae Jepsen- Out of nowhere this summer's soundtrack has arrived (apparently). It's floaty, carefree and poptastic. You just can't help but bop along.

Let's look a bit deeper shall we:

"Hey, I just met you,
and this is crazy,
but here's my number,
so call me, maybe?"

I wonder how often Carly just does this? Sounds to me that if you're in the right place at the right time you might have a shot with Carly. To sum up, Carly Rae Jepsen = Easy.

Justin Bieber- No pop run down would be complete without the current crown prince.

I'm not going to take a pop at his lyrics, as far as I'm concerned this wordsmith has them nailed. However take a listen-

Don't worry you'll only need to listen to about 2 seconds before you hear it. Is that a whale (or perhaps dolphin) performing backing vocals? I bet it could just be. Therefore Justin Bieber = Aquaman.

Sean Paul- The king of illegible dance hall pop returns.

I haven't got a clue what this chap is banging on about, all I know is that it sounds like 'enema'. Sean Paul = patron of water based internal arse irrigation.

Fun- Indie popsters singing there hearts out with anthemic uplifting pop. There's a lot of pop in that sentence.

Here's a section of lyrics from "We are young":

"My seat’s been taken by some sunglasses asking about a scar, and
I know I gave it to you months ago
I know you’re trying to forget
But between the drinks and subtle things
The holes in my apologies
You know, I’m trying hard to take it back"

I'll think you'll agree that's some dark stuff. So when you see a group of youngsters singing it loud in a club, maybe that's the time to remind them that it's actually an endorsement of domestic violence. Fun = Wife Beaters.

I could continue on, but this post might become a ramble. There's plenty more out there, from promoting your mediocre electro pop song through the medium of a grainy blowjob video, to appearing on every tv show currently being broadcast.

The writer of this blog is very shortly taking part in a ludicrously long charity walk for Asthma UK. If you're feeling generous you can kindly sponsor him here.

By The Man Blog.

Monday, 16 April 2012

The man den

I am not a boastful person, I am not someone who has a lot of things to boast about, or be very proud of. However I am proud of my man den.

What is a man den? I hear you say?

The answer is a safe place, a place of refuge, a haven, a fortress of solitude if you will. My wife will tell you that it's place for all of my crap to live so that the house stays nice and clean. There's a rancor and AT-ST that would beg to differ.

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No matter how hard she tries the wife can't expel my childish ways completely. Here's what I did to my sons alphabet mat when left unsupervised-


I digress. As I said before the man den is place to retreat to when the stresses and strains of the world become too much. As I like to say, if you've got nothing to do, you'll find something to do in the man den.

Let's go through some of the more prominent features-


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Your eyes don't deceive you, that's a West Ham dartboard.

Pub paraphernalia:

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Pub signs, wooden table, personalised (sort of) ash tray, and bar towels (possibly stolen).


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Ok, so really it's just an extending table that I took a jigsaw to, but have you got one?


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Brown. Leather. A man needs no more.

Pest Control:

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BB gun for tactically removing pigeons from my satellite dish. Night vision goggles for scaring the shit out of the wife once she's gone to bed.

Entertainment unit:

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TV, PS2, and a VHS player in full working order. If you didn't want to you would never need move from the sofa.

VHS library:

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No point in having the vhs player without the library to back it up. When we're all getting the latest films beamed directly to our retinas this will go for a fortune on ebay.

Sound system:

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Alright this is pretty shit, but the den isn't that big. Acoustically it's fine.

Fishing tackle menagerie:

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Hooks, line, reels, buckets, and anything else that might be required.

Poker Table:
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Everyone needs one, no one uses one. One of lifes modern paradoxes.

The only thing that's missing is a shitter. If it weren't for this I'd have my wife send my post up and I could live there.

The writer of this blog is taking part in a ludicrously long charity walk for Asthma UK. If you're feeling generous you can kindly sponsor him here.

By The Man Blog.

Wednesday, 11 April 2012

Why Jessie J is a twat.

She's the darling of the British music scene and has a global fan base including Justin 'Trousersnake' Timberlake. I however think she's a twat. Here's why-

She's full of shit.

I've searched and searched but I can't seem to find the link to download my free copy of 'Price Tag'. I mean, it's not like Jessie would charge us, would she? Surely not after a sparkling call to arms like "Well, keep the price tag, And take the cash back. Just give me six strings and a half stack, And you can keep the cars. Leave me the garage And all I, yes all I need Are keys and guitars". Apparently not, if you want to join her glorious world view it'll cost you.

It may not be about the money, but it's probably about those fucking horrendous nails she flashes about.

She seems to have no concept of what she says.

"I'm back in the swing, getting my cast off after nine weeks of this awful Smurf shoe. But it's put everything in perspective. I have a different respect now for people who don't have legs." - Jessie, after having her ankle in a cast.

You read that right. Similarly every time I lose my keys I get an insight into the challenges faced by the homeless.

Her singing pisses me off.

Ever heard her sing? Some people like it and that's fine. If IIIII uh uh oh oh oh IIII spoke li-ey ey ey ey-ke this-is-is-is-is, oooooo ohhhh yeahhhh you'd get pissed off.

She's a show pony.

It seems that if you want a career in pop you need to adopt a wacky fashion sense, coupled with a savage haircut, and some form of personal tragedy. Chuck in a comment about being sexually ambiguous and bingo, you've got a career.

I can't escape her bullshit.

I don't blame Jessie for this. I blame the BBC. Not only does my wife insist on subjecting me to her inanities on a Saturday evening, radio 1 insists on playing her latest single several times a day.

That's why I think she's a twat. It's just my opinion, and as it's my blog I'll say whatever the hell I want.

Having said all of that, I wouldn't kick her out of bed.....as long as she didn't sing.

The writer of this blog is taking part in a ludicrously long charity walk for Asthma UK. If you're feeling generous you can kindly sponsor him here.

By The Man Blog.

Wednesday, 4 April 2012

Titanic - Why Rose is a bitch.

James Cameron has come along and decide to double dip  Titanic. This film is definitely not one of my favourites. However I have to confess that I've seen it about 8 times, at least 4 of those I actually paid for the privilege as well.

As a 15 year old in 1997, Titanic was essential knicker grease for the young ladies of my home town. Enduring this film 4 times was a small price to pay for a quick fumble at the back of the local flea pit.

During these repeated viewings one thing really stuck in my craw. Rose was a bitch. Stone cold. She doesn't deserve your sympathy.

Lets look at the reasons why this wanton harlot, was exactly that.

Rose was engaged-

Yep, she was hooked up to get hitched. No one held a gun to her head. Sure her mother may have applied a bit of pressure, but what sort of ungrateful bitch wouldn't help her old dear out?

Sure, her beloved was a pecker, but everyone has their drawbacks.

She gets naked, quick-

Rose has known a young vagabond for a few days. He's different, and there's electricity, she's curious. Most people repress certain urges, not Rose however. She gets her wabs out and asks young Jack to sketch her. Get this, she also purposely wears her engagement present. Utterly heartless.

Also on this point she strips of for Jack, 'an artist' apparently. I don't mean to question her decision making but if there was the chance to see some tit I'd claim to be an artist as well. Stupid bint.

She puts out, quick-

This doesn't make her a bitch. What does is that she does it behind her fianc├ęs back, callously, and in the cargo hold. The ship's equivalent of behind a skip. The harlot.

Once she's nailed someone else, she mocks her other half-

That's right. Not content with physically trampling Cal's heart she writes him a mocking note and leaves it with the picture of her in the buff. How harsh is that?

She kills Jack-

In the freezing water they cling to life desperately. Heroically Jack shunts her onto a dining table size piece of wood. Selfishly she commandeers all available space and insists that Jack freezes to death in the icy water. Poor bastard.

Not only is she a bitch, she's the equivalent of a black widow. Killing her mates and moving on. God knows how many lives she ruined after this tragic event. Bitch.

The writer of this blog is taking part in a ludicrously long charity walk for Asthma UK. If you're feeling generous you can kindly sponsor him here.

By The Man Blog.

Tuesday, 3 April 2012

Man shops

As previously highlighted in some of my previous posts shopping is the bane of most men lives. However there are a small number of retail outlets that any man should be proud to visit. Visiting these places of business is a joy.

Not only will you be in a male environment, conversation will be limited, to the point, and need no knowledge of last nights TV. I present to you Man Shops-


Behind the counter stand two wisened old blokes, wearing either dark green, or dark blue aprons. They are normally accustomed to smiling cheekily at women requesting new heels.

However, smell the air, take in the sounds, check out the big ol' power tool in the background. This is a place for men.

When to visit- when you need a key cut. On the wall there will a plethora of uncut keys just waiting for an imprint. Marvel as they return exact copies of your required keys.

What to discuss- Light banter centred around football, security locks, and (depending on the gent behind the counter) any female customer that is just leaving.

DIY Specialists-

Small wooden shops hidden within plain sight. The floor boards will be rough and spongy to walk on. There will be untold numbers of door locks on a bit of chipboard. Paint test cards are everywhere. There are small boxes of screws within easy reach, and the back room seems to be bigger than the actual shop.

When to visit- When you require specific grades of sand paper. When you require an unheard of shade of paint.

What to discuss- Do not try and blag a knowledge of DIY here. You will be found out. If anywhere this is likely to be the place where conversation is short. In fact expect to conduct your entire transaction entirely in silence.


If you can't get to a DIY specialists you'll need to visit the soulless equivalent. Still they stock more tools than you can think of, so don't delay get in there and start test swinging hammers.

When to visit- Any given Sunday. Pack the Mrs. of to the garden section and head straight to power tools or timber.

What to discuss- You can blag a bit more here. You won't be shunned so much. The chances are that, unless you're talking to an old boy, the assistant is likely to be blagging as much as you. I had a 15 minute discussion regarding chuck sizes once after test drilling a cordless Bosch power drill. No one, ever, knows anything about chuck sizes.

Cricket equipment retailers (the last remaining sports shop)-

These tend to be only found in quite villages, yet have a steady stream of dedicated clientele. The heady combination of wood and leather make them confounding yet brilliant places to visit. Arguably it's also the last remaining sports shop, that actually sells sporting equipment (albeit in a narrow field).

When to visit- anytime you need any cricket related equipment, or want to discuss the latest happenings in world cricket.

What to discuss- Cricket mainly. You can try and blag some knowledge here, but be warned if you are buying, the chaps behind the counter will have all of your money and some. Don't let their bushy eyebrows fool you, they're like sharks around blood.

Trophy Shop-

Usually quite dark shops, and sometimes you'll find a cobbler moonlighting here. Before you will be an array of trophies, from the massive Karate Kid-esque ones, to the piddly little 'you took part' ones.

When to visit- when you need a darts trophy engraved, or just fancy a talking piece in the downstairs shitter.

What to discuss- Conversation here is similar to the DIY specialist, although there is no need to blag anything. Typeface and font size are usually as far as you'll get.

Fishing Bait Shop-

Damp and smelly. These Aladdin's cave of angling contain everything you require to attempt to catch fish. A myriad of weights, lures, and hooks await, all nicely complimented by a generic topless girl calendar behind the till.

When to visit- when you want to go fishing.

What to discuss- all things fishing. Fish sizes, bait types, and local catch sizes.

Mechanics Garage-

Grease and oil, radio 1 very loud, and a generic topless girl calendar. Intimidating unless you know precisely how your car works.

When to visit- When your car is fucked.

What to discuss- Just try to get in and out without getting your trousers taken down too much.

The writer of this blog is taking part in a ludicrously long charity walk for Asthma UK. If you're feeling generous you can kindly sponsor him here.

By The Man Blog.

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