“Make the lie big, make it simple, keep saying it, and eventually they will believe it.”

Adolf Hitler

 

Just who is the world’s worst martial arts actor?

The mighty Chuck Norris is a god in the pantheon of mumbling mono syllabic club thumpers but there have been many challenges to his throne.

Stallone mumbled his way out of contention, Van Damme blew his credibility trying to be funny, while Dolph Lungren couldn’t figure out how to turn the door handle to get into the audition.

Surely Steven Seagal must come closest in his humourless and tediously repetitive catalogue of films that always seem to have kill or death in the title.

A choice selection for any newcomer include Hard to Kill, Out for a Kill, Kill Switch, Driven to Kill, Machete, Pistol Whipped and Today you Die.

Those about to die salute you, Steven.

 

It seems everyone is having to work harder to make ends meet these days

Intergalactic bucket-head Darth Vader is no exception having been caught on CCTV trying to rob a bank in America.

One day the galaxy, the next New York. How the mighty fall.

 

Tourist honey pot the London Dungeons promises its visitors a ‘horrible time.’

It certainly delivers with prohibitive ticket prices, one-and-half hour queuing times and exhibits that look like they haven’t been changed since the place opened.

A motley collection of drama students ham it up in various guises as our guides through London’s historical underbelly. Truly un-terrifying, witless mannequins who could be out-acted by a parrot.

A special thank you (not) to the miserable young lump who sullenly guarded the way to Traitor’s Gate.

If they are an indication of the new vanguard of thespians we can expect lean times indeed on the Oscar front.

The only thing that scared me was the entrance price and the fact that this sort of tosh is still being promoted as one of the capital’s must see attractions.

I also suffered the humiliation of being singled out in the torture chamber and made to sit in a chair while the ‘torturer’ displayed the use of various tools of the trade.

No water boarding or sleep deprivation here. Dick Cheney’s medieval relatives applied more subtle methods such as hooks driven into the buttocks, tongue rippers, hot irons and what looked like a Medieval cigar cutter for loping off your wedding tackle.

The last straw was staggering outside to find some skull-faced midget tottering up and down Tooley Street promoting the dungeons as the ultimate tourist experience. I felt like firing him out of the nearest circus canon into a brick wall.

 

I question the wisdom of letting cephalopods dictate human thinking.

Novelist John Wyndham gave warning of Mother Nature’s soft skinned psychos but we still worship the likes of Paul the Octopus (see left) who had bookies in tears with his sure footed prediction of the World Cup’s winning teams.

Paul, also known as the soothsayer and psychic octopus, needs to be watched closely. It’s only a short eight legged step before he gets his slippery tentacles into other pies.

A sachet of weed killer in his tank should do the trick.

 

So many takeaways , so little time to eat them.

I saw this little pack of feathered zombies ravaging a discarded takeaway this morning at a roadside diner.

Nice to see the little peckers have found a meal to see them through the day.

Who’d have thought our feathered friends would of liked dining out on Chinese?

Respect to pigeon, despite the army of terminators out there.

 

“One of the things I discovered is that you need three ingredients to be really unsuccessful. You need to be blind; you need to be blind to the fact that you’re blind and then you need to make it undiscussable.”

Sir David Varney

 

They say that Satan’s greatest trick was convincing people he doesn’t exist.

Well, the Post Office is on to you mate (see left). I know it’s recession and all but Walthamstow?

Slumming it a bit, isn’t it?

Look on the bright side. You could have fallen to Earth in Clapton.

 

Office loafer had last week off but the strain of coming back to work for two days has taken its toll and he was off today for ‘personal reasons.’

It’s a sacrosanct excuse. The joker in the pack of skiving because it could cover any number of sensitive reasons that a boss is ill advised to challenge.

Of course, he has no genuine reason beyond being an idle 30 something layout who’s been genetically mapped with a sloth.

Oh well, he’ll be back in tomorrow wiping his brow and telling us how busy he is. Tell it to the hand.

 

Is it some unseen law of employment that the higher you climb the monkey ladder, the more removed and distainful you become of your once human colleagues?

Our newly promoted boss has taken on the guise of the Eye of Sauron. We scurry beneath her baleful gaze hoping she will not stumble across the missing paperclip or unattended tea cup.

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