He told me that he liked Spiderman 3 because Lee, Ditko and Michelinie’s narrative treatment of character exposition would allow people who were unfamiliar with the text to engage in it just as much as those who had already been reading or watching it for years. This angered me. I pulled the gaffer tape away from his mouth and slapped him.

He countered with an argument about profit. I knew this was coming, but luckily I had prepared a counter-counter. I took my new screwdriver out of its pouch and buried it deep into his hand, just below the rope that was fastening it to the arm of the chair. I knew it had gone far enough in when I felt the tip of the screwdriver touch the wood. As the blood ran over the blue plastic fibre and danced downwards through the knotting I considered the imagery of Twin Peaks. I cursed myself for not having the foresight to have brought my Angelo Badalamenti collection with me.

I pointed out that the latter instalments of Star Wars trod a fine balance between new-story/old-story and while Empire and Jedi were certainly as viewable in terms of sequential profit as any of the more modern adapt-a-comic behemoths, they offered an intricate weave of metaphor and symbolism that elevated them from the simple cause/effect of profit tainting output quality, and there was a happy medium that could be reached if there wasn’t such a woeful imbalance in the mix of creative and economic power.

This took him by surprise. He stopped screaming and looked more than a little confused. I illustrated my point with particular reference to the Ewok-Wookie dichotomy and the narrative changes that were made to the conceptual Endor in terms of its indigenous species. There was silence.

I felt compelled to remind him that both Spiderman 1 and 2 offered little in the way of intertextuality, and because the films had been written in such a deliberately accessible fashion that watching the trilogy would be like watching ‘Spiderman for Dummies, versions 1, 2 and 3′ and then complaining when it didn’t tell you how to translate binary into assembly code. I thought this was frightfully clever, but he didn’t laugh at my joke so I hit him again. Nothing. I decided that he was either particularly humourless or he’d never read any books on computer programming. He only started laughing when I grabbed his face and pushed my finger into the hole in the top of his hand. It felt like a mixture of jelly and gravel.

At this juncture I really had to point out that the conversation had taken a tangent from the original point I was trying to make, namely that antiheroes just aren’t anti enough for me nowadays. I don’t think Dave was listening. It looked like he had fallen asleep. All I could think about was those fucking cinematic pussies. When I rented The Punisher I had to put up with him pretend to torture somebody to get information. When would the Punisher have ever pretended to torture anyone? He’s called the fucking Punisher for fuck’s sake. See now I’m angry. Once I reach this state there are only a few things which can calm me down. Watching Christopher Reeve beat the shit out of CK1 and put him through a compacting machine is one. Fighting Dark Link in the Water Temple with only 3 hearts is another. Unfortunately my 64 and my ex-rental VHS was in the same place as my Badalamenti. 

Dave was still asleep so I hit him again. He didn’t move so I hit him a second time, although really a fourth if you take actions conducted in previous conversational threads into account. He still didn’t wake up. I pulled the telephone cord from the wall and whipped his face with it. He woke up. I told him it was rather rude to fall asleep when being directly addressed by somebody, especially if the topic is of quite major importance.

I was sharpening the spoon when he asked me what I had to say about Todd MacFarlane’s involvement in the writing of Spiderman 3. I put the gaffer tape back on his mouth and pretended that I hadn’t heard him.

At 10am I was learning new songs. I could play some of them already, and others were easy enough to pick up, so I wasn’t really putting the effort in that I should. I drank some coffee, smoked some weed, and sat in my pants with a black ’68 Gibson SG, not sure if I should actually use one of the cheaper guitars I own just so I can beat the shit out of it. I worked for a long time, raised £2,000, spent it, and now regret buying something so perfect that I’m scared shitless of breaking it. I want the Fender copy I had when I was 18.

So I finished my joint and set off for the studio to record. That worked out pretty well, so I came home, smoked some more weed, drank some more coffee, and set off for studio #2. I spent 7 hours in a room with 6 other guys – a mixture of sweaty metalheads, wiry slap bassists and small, but fucking hairy, drummers.
I thought about the things I could have done instead, wondering if all that time in a stinking, windowless pit would have been better spent in the sunshine, riding bikes, chasing girls, eating lunch, and, if I could get away with it, smoking weed in my pants with a black ’68 Gibson SG.

And now we’re back to 10pm. The day has gone, and I’m not going to be able to bring back. I can do the same stuff again tomorrow. In fact, I can sit in my pants, smoke weed, and play the shit out of a black Gibson ’68 SG any day I like, but it won’t be the same. I don’t want to do it all again some other time. Come to think of it I don’t even want the black ’68 Gibson SG. I just I want it to be 10am.

Get Your Hands Off My Jerky, Turkey
(alt. title – How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love Cannibalism)

From a hospital bed, a man recounts the story of how he came to have a human finger in his stomach while on a labouring job in rural France.

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Sponsorship

A man at breakfast contemplates what happens to the money he donates to charity.

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William Shakespeare’s Predator

Dropped into the thick of the English countryside to rescue a fallen carriage of the Queen’s Counsel, General Schaeffronio faces his greatest ever adversary.

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Tom & The Lion

A young boy, ignored by his mother, finds a new best friend.

Download Tom

Experiments With Cheese

I try to disprove, fairly unscientifically,  the myth that cheese gives you nightmares.

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Statue

An uninspired sculptor finds a statue.

Download Statue

In early 1995 three scientists and a money-grabbing whore decided to provide a potential solution to the world’s energy crisis by modifying Cobain’s grave to include dynamo functionality. With the ferocious spinning of the grave successfully harnessed, it has been able to power some of the richest TV networks in America for over fifteen years.

The frequency and force of the spinning are directly proportional to two things – the amount of bland, corporate shit with Cobain’s name on it and the willingness of his widow to flog parts of his estate to anybody with a chequebook.

Despite strenuous claims from Courtney Love that she had no involvement in the mass-scale prostituting of her late husband’s estate, a spokesman at Activision is now telling a slightly different story, claiming that she not only sold all the rights to Cobain’s likeness for the upcoming edition of Rock Band, but even advised on haircut, clothes and track choices.

However, new evidence suggests that without sufficient control measures, Cobain’s grave could actually threaten the existence of humanity, and top government scientists are now preparing a critical report on the effect that the inclusion of Nirvana material will have on power output.

“The ferocity at which Cobain’s grave is now spinning threatens to actually counteract the planet’s natural spin cycle. It’s the classic “third body” physics problem – we were entirely prepared to include Activision and Courtney Love into our calculations, but we neglected to study the effect of bearded Judas Dave Grohl. It was an elementary mistake but we got so excited by Them Crooked Vultures that we simply forget he was a backstabbing cunt.”

The SuperTruth’s Science & Weather correspondent and part-time Nic Cage stunt-double William Williams III commented today that we were unequivocally doomed.

“The only way to counteract this is to find another dead celebrity whose memory and creative output can be raped, only we have to rape them in the opposite direction. On current calculations we have around 25 ¼ days before we get so close to the sun that we are all burnt alive. The caves won’t save us. Nothing will.”

Lt. Tearsbucket has claimed that films such as Jarhead, Buffalo Soldiers and Three Kings have painted an inaccurate portrayal of modern warfare, and furthermore that it is an infringement of human rights to send soldiers either to dangerous parts of the world or situations that may require combat. Defence QC Whoopi Goldberg, of city law firm Shylock & Chaser, commented on the first day of proceedings.

Loggins: beardy soft-rock fuckwit

“The army has plenty of money, and plenty of working equipment. The real danger to the lives of soldiers is the insistence of this government to send them into areas that we are at war with. Why should our soldiers be endangered any further, if at all? I will be doing everything possible to make sure that the taxpayer is left with an astronomical bill.”

Since being posted in Afghanistan, British troops have suffered what Goldberg describes as “bullying” and “name-calling” from many local insurgents. The Ministry of Defence has responded to claims that it has “lost touch” and is incapable of supplying sufficient resources by hiring Kenny Loggins to perform at a special concert for troops stationed abroad.

Lt. Gen. Sir Bunty Biznogs (Mrs) (ret) criticised the move as a shallow attempt to detract from real issues.

“Highway to the whatnow? If that bearded twat had tried to sing on my watch we’d have dressed him up as a girl and buggered the living fuck out of him, d’ye see?”

Police are still trying to piece together the final hours before the youngster’s body was found, leading various organs to seize this uncertainty and peddle unsubstantiated stories about abuse to sicken the public, and ultimately sell more newspapers through sensationalising the death of a child.

Stacey’s mother, Roxanne, who had been with Walker for about a year and was planning to marry him, has told friends that abuse charges seem unbelievable to her.

“She trusted him and did not have any reason to think he would ever harm a child” said DCI Kirk.

But Kirk also revealed that Walker had a “history of a domestic incident with his wife of three years, who he had been divorcing.”

Kirk did not mention the details of the charge, which hardly constitutes a history, and it can be reasonably assumed from the media silence surrounding them that they were wholly uninteresting in the first place.

TheSuperTruth’s divorce correspondent and part-time pole dancer Simon de Fanganglick commented today that domestic situations were often par for the course when couples split up and this should not be used as a reason to condemn Walker for a violation that he just as equally might not have committed.

“What’s more concerning is that the police will release wild statements to the press which they know will affect public perception to the nth degree. At this rate, we might as well run a story about Stacey being raped by a Unicorn that rode away on a magic fucking rainbow. Show me a newspaper that doesn’t leap onto a child-abuse bandwagon and I’ll show you a bunch of lying fucking cunts.”

Tomorrow’s Daily Mirror is due to run an article that it describes as a “deeply sensitive look at a family torn apart by tragedy”, based on allegations that Walker had once got drunk and shouted at Big Brother for “being shit.”

Entitled “Violent, abusive alcoholic rapes child in sick fuck-you to Princess Jade’s glorious memory”, the article will focus on the connection between a refusal to pay a council fine for overstacking his wheelie bin and possible connections with Al Qaeda.

Costing £10 a wrap, it works by simultaneously releasing the brain chemical (or neurotransmitter) dopamine and blocking the brain’s natural reuptake. Dopamine is involved in reward, motivation, pleasure, and motor function. The drug’s ability to rapidly release dopamine in reward regions of the brain produces intense euphoria. It also suppresses the appetite.

The US Food And Drug Administration launched the probe after key figures rented Darren Aronofsky’s Requiem For A Dream and realised that the public were well on their way to being justifiably fucked off with incessant hypocrisy. The reports included details of 27 patients who were admitted to hospital, all of whom gurned and waved their arms around to the beeps of their dialysis machines.

The drug has already sparked concerns with health experts here who fear it could be abused by people who do not need to lose weight, or those seeking a “miracle cure” for something that in reality could be a lot simpler. Controversial SuperTruth health correspondant and prolific freestyle rapper Dr Bizzy T. Bone insisted today that all people needed was a sense of perspective.

“If you want to lose weight, do some fucking exercise and stop eating shit. It works 100% of the time and there are no side effects. Instead of incessant tabloid scaremongering, maybe a more sobering mirror to look into would be the one that shows illegal drugs rebranded and sold, legally, for over 50 years while the Government and media simultaneousy shitcan us for wanting to get stoned.”

A spokesman for the American food watchdog said: “Our analysis of data is ongoing, and no definite association between mental injury and whizz has been established.”
He added people on the drug should continue to use it as directed. GlaxoSmithKline, which both sells it and kickbacks the American food watchdog, said people who are obese or overweight are predisposed to liver disorders anyway. A spokesman added that there was “no obvious biological mechanism to suggest damage can occur.”

US investigators said people who have used speed should consult a gym or a bicycle if they have symptoms of either fat or lazy.

While traditional Taser weapons fire two darts attached to wires and have a range of around 25ft, the Death Star v1.0 fires a one-second laser burst equal to 10^32 joules from 1-20/40/100 Space Units (47,060,000km) away and has the ability to destroy an entire planet, The Guardian reported.

Police: new powers to fuck us up

Empire International, which makes both weapons, said the new model is a “revolutionary” step that will help police immobilise suspects from a much further distance, but critics said the weapon could cause “serious injury” to the target’s head, face or planet of origin.
The new model, with a diameter of 120km (roughly the size of a class IV moon) is a marked change from the elegant handheld weaponry of a more civilised age. Already on sale in the US, the Death Star v1.0 is being considered by the Home Office for use by law enforcement agencies in England, Scotland, Wales and Alderaan.

Amnesty International UK’s arms programme director Oliver Sprague said:

“We’re seriously concerned about this latest weapon by Empire. It has the ability to destroy an entire planet, and even though this is only possible at full power that still leaves around 5,000 smaller gun turrets across its surface and a fleet of Tie fighters.”

Farmers, communists, beatniks and gay robots from around the world have banded together under the leadership of Sgt. Mike Watts, TA (longest way up shortest way down) to launch a full-scale rebellion against Empire. Sgt. Watts issued the following statement to the press:

“These new tasers represent a gross taking of fucking liberties, but they can be easily destroyed by firing an airpistol into the ventilation shaft on their easterly bow”.

Sgt. Watts also moved quickly to dispel recent rumors as to feasibility of such a task, claiming “I used to shoot me mum’s cat up the arsehole with a BB Glock 17, thats not much bigger and dissimilar to a crouton, which in turn is proportionately similar to the ventilation shaft on this new moon. Space station. Whatever. ”

With an attack looking imminent, and with continued pressure from global liberal groups to step down, Lord Mandelson responded today from his orbiting second-home.

“Evacuate? In our moment of triumph? I seriously think you overestimate the rebel’s chances.”

New La Roux song on the radio. I almost bit off my own tongue when she started that pathetic excuse for singing. If I had balls, they would be irreversibly embedded somewhere in my lower abdomen.