Wednesday, October 19, 2016

One Ply

One ply. Cheap, nasty, arse-shredding one ply. $300 per night and they expect me to wipe my most delicate parts with this? One ply is for truck stops, correctional facilities and those really nasty public toilets, fitted out with blue lights so the junkies can’t shoot up. It really has no place in posh hotels with marble foyers and a 4.3 rating on Tripadvisor. It’s not right.
Who came up with this idea? Who was the miserable tight-arse with no consideration for anyone else’s arse? Do they buy one ply for their own family? Of course they don’t – their family would walk out on them, because no one deserves to be treated that way. Hotel guests don’t deserve it. Truckies don’t deserve it… I guess a few people in correctional facilities may deserve it, but only the really fucking evil ones.
I want multiple plies. I want air-weave, pillow cushion, silk caress comfort. I don’t want to feel the current texture of what was formerly my buffet breakfast. Toilet paper technology has come a very long way since those terrible dark days when one ply was standard issue. These advances have benefited humanity far more than putting a man on the moon. Whoever it was that invented Sorbent Cotonelle should be far more widely celebrated than Neil Armstrong whose sole contribution was stepping out of a spaceship while fluffing his big line.
When I visit a posh hotel I can avoid the overpriced peanuts and the tiny $10 bottles of spirits in the mini bar. I can go without the rip off Wi-Fi. But a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do. Normally time on the thrown is a mildly pleasant, satisfying experience, however when I take hold of that cheap, scratchy piece of one ply I can’t help but get extremely angry at the greedy corporate bastards who wouldn’t fork out the extra few cents for the sake of my posterior comfort.
I start to get really wound up. To bring myself back to a state of calm I then force myself to think “this is such a first wold problem…  there are billions of people who don’t even have proper sanitation. There are children who don’t even have the food to start this whole digestive process, let alone end it. There is a war in Syria where thousands of people are literally getting their arses blown off.”
Then I feel sad.
Then I feel like a monster for getting so angry about a first world problem.
Then I see that little survey card that says “Did you enjoy your stay?”
Then I realise there is just not enough space to have a proper rant on one of those hotel survey cards.

Tuesday, February 16, 2016

Everything is a medical condition

Have you noticed how no one is ever thirsty anymore? Instead everyone tells you that they are 'dehydrated'. There simple desire for a drink has suddenly turned into a medical condition.

Today everyone is an expert with a desire to blame every tiny little thing on some sympathy winning medical condition. If I go to the wrong address, turn up at the wrong time or call the wrong number it's generally because I wasn't concentrating. However if someone asks me why I stuffed up, I tell them I'm numerically dyslexic and all is magically forgiven. Mostly people will say that they are also a bit numerically dyslexic too.

When Tiger Woods got caught screwing a dozen different woman, he didn't say he enjoyed sleeping around - instead he said he had a sex addiction. Whenever a rugby league player tries to drink his urine, punch someone or molest an animal they don't say they are just a horrible human being - they inevitably blame it on an alcohol problem.  If it is a medically diagnosed alcohol condition that caused them to disgrace themselves, it is suddenly more forgivable.

I don't know how many people have told me they are a little bit ADHD. They generally just do this as an excuse for ignoring you whilst playing with their phone. Their only real condition is rudeness.

Wednesday, January 20, 2016

World Championships of Farting

Men are generally fascinated by farting and anything which is competitive. It’s almost incomprehensible that no one has put the two together and created a large-scale event.

I envisage the World Championships of Farting would be held in the elevator of the Empire State building. (qualifying events could be held in other tall towers around the world). The competitor would enter the elevator along with three judges. The doors would close and the competitor would have the entire journey up to unleash their worst.

50 per cent of the score would be awarded for the volume and duration of the farts. The other 50 per cent would be awarded for aroma.

I imagine the TV coverage would be packed full of special segments covering each of the competitors and what they ate and drank in the lead up. I'd go German with a lot of beer and sauerkraut. 

I was thinking of competing under the name Gaseous Clay before converting to Islam and becoming Muhammad Arseleak. Being white I then decided it may be more appropriate if I compete as Rocky Bowelblower.
  Image result for rocky fartingImage result for rocky farting