Dredd 2

Previously on Dredd:

One of Lena's pals was rude to Anderson:

So she shredded him:

Four years on, Dredd and Anderson can still tolerate each other:

(Dredd on his motorcycle)

The end.

Further north

I have recently moved north and have been staying in student halls of residence. I have been keeping a diary to record my time here (as all intrepid explorers do).

Day one:

I have arrived in The North.  It is bitterly cold, but secretly I'm quite pleased because it means I can wear my furry hat without anyone raising an eyebrow.  I had forgotten what student accommodation was like; a bare small bedroom with a desk, pokey shower (I have no idea how a fat person would get in and out of this, I keep banging my elbows and have become entangled in the door), with a simple communal area.  The kitchen can never be clean now; the stains of the last few years have become part of the building.  There is a cupboard that has been optimistically filled with cleaning products: a hoover, an ironing board, and a mop which has never been used. The virgin mop.

Day two:

I went into work today, slipped on some ice and ripped my trousers.  Luckily the rip was at the crotch and I was wearing a long cardigan so no-one noticed.  I also had a hot chocolate.

Day three:

I decided to open my curtains to let some natural light into my room.  Unfortunately, there was none.  I surveyed my view: it was of grey concrete, with the odd dash of colour, which on closer scrutiny, turned out to be vomit.

Day four:

One of my flatmates cooked rice today.  I know this because I saw bits of rice on the kitchen counter when I went to fill up my hot water bottle.

Day five:

I am enjoying work, and have decided that I like almost everyone I have met.  My main grievance is with the radiator in my bedroom; it seems to be here solely for decorative purposes.  It emits 'lukewarm', not heat.

Day six:

My flatmate cooked rice again today.

Intermission: went down south for gas central heating and chips.

Day seven (in The North):

I have infiltrated student camp.  On my return from putting the bins out, I was invited into a student party, and handed a plastic cup filled with lurid purple liquid.  I subtly exchanged this for a bottle of corona.  I stood, trying to look inconspicuous.  On observation, these students seem to like shouting and spilling their drinks. I didn't finish my drink, and placed it on the counter as I slipped away. I saw a bloke wearing jeans that hadn't been washed in ten years picking it up and downing it, so all's well that ends well.

Top Hat

My next couple of blog posts are going to make a return to fashion.  Partly because one of my fans requested this (he needs all the fashion advice he can get) and also because I keep seeing people wearing hats I don't like. I don't think anyone should wear a baseball cap in the gym, and I also do not think people should wear warm furry hats indoors with a vest top. It makes no sense and it must be stopped.

So: below you will see my famous sequined cap, appropriate for wearing in Benidorm, with a sequined blazer. This kind of hat is excellent because it is sparkly but also stops sun getting in your eyes. A hat like this comes with responsibility: never wear it with velvet (velvet is banned ok) and don't sit on it or you'll damage the sequins.  I may wear this for the solar eclipse tomorrow.

Now, I can't think of anything worse than wearing a hat with sequins and being in a poorly-lit area where noone is able to appreciate your blingnosity. This is why it is also important to have a light-up sequin hat:

There is no point wearing a hat without bling. As you can see from the picture below, no bling or lights means that you are basically walking about with some straw or other material on your head. The one I am wearing has some beads, but this is still not ok and should never be worn outside in public, unless you want to look distinctly average.  You may as well just be a pause because nobody will listen to you if you wear a boring hat.

'Old man' caps are generally only acceptable if you are an old man, play golf, or are a massive twat*, so if you are going down this road I recommend a blingy one.  The one I am wearing below has diamanté on it so that noone will ask me to play golf, but they will admire me from a safe distance.

There may be more to follow.

#theyseemetheyhating

*I've got two, but they cancel each other out so I am still awesome.

Updation

I have not written in ages, and a number* of people have requested that I do so.  So here it is.  I have not been on blogger because, basically, I am really busy and important.  There has been no time to create amazing Shakespear productions, or to begin my 'feet and conversations' project.  I have, however, decided to start up my own sexual product line.  I have been inspired by the films of Derek Jarman, and given that products such as 'Halls' soothers and 'Jakemans' lozenges are popular, I think there could definitely be a gap in the market for 'Jarmans Lube'.  And 'Jubilee Condoms' if time permits.  Obviously I will not be using these products myself, but, I sold clothes pegs when I was in school and I don't use those either, so this project is bound to be a total success.  Move over 'durex', you sound too similar to 'dulux' anyway.  

I think some brand names are just silly. I used to like 'jiff' because it sounded like something would get clean in a jiffy, but now it is called 'ciff' which sounds like an abbreviation for syphilis. And I really do not care for 'cillit bang' because this also sounds smutty.

I have, with persuasion from my friend Kay-Woo joined a baton twirling troupe.  This is really fun, but at the competitions I keep losing to the fourteen year olds.  These competitions are combining two of my least favourite things: youths and losing.  Ugh.  I have made a friend, and we don't like the other girls in our category which is good, but I don't know if I like her either because I suspect her of being a hippy (she had a 'hemp' badge on her bag; I saw it).  My troupe is clearly the best, but at the last competition none of us won a 'princess' award which is wrong and unjust. Obviously I couldn't win because I am too queenly, but the others are all definitely princess-chic.

I am struggling with stain removal just now.  I have a red wine stain on my karate gi that just won't shift. 

Oohh that reminds me, I am now amazing at ironing:

Shirts - just do the front bit and them wear a blazer so that nobody sees the rest

Skirts - buy ruffled ones that don't need ironing

Dresses - get them dry cleaned so that you don't need to iron them

Trousers - these are quite easy because you just go up and down, there are no wibbly bits

Other items - just make sure you don't get tangled in the iron's cord if you walk around the ironing board

I would like to end this blog post with a nice happy thought: don't look down on people unless you are helping them up. Or taller than them, up a ladder, etc.

*One is number.

Selfies

I love selfies.  I like sending people snapchats of my huge face.  However, there are some kinds of selfie that I do not take, and would like my lady friends to stop sending me:

1. The 'I don't know I am being photographed so I am not looking at the camera'

It is a SELFIE.  Nine times out of ten, I can SEE your arm, and know that it is wielding a camera phone.  Also it is actually really hard not to look at the camera, as I have just discovered, so I really don't know why you make the effort.  

2.  The duck/trout pout

How is this sexy?  Or can I just not pull it off?

2. The no make up selfie

Maybe you can fool the boys, but I can see your eyeliner.  Know your audience.

Now go forth, and stop sending me cringey photos of yourself.

Look skinny...teeheehee

On twitter I follow a lot of healthy tweeters - recipes, pictures of fruit, that sort of thing.  But a lot of them have been retweeting some intense weight loss products - diet pills, diet teas, fat burners...and they all show the following kind of image:

The image can be a man or a woman, and they are super slim (bit unlike me, soz) and they hold out their jeans to indicate their weight loss.  Which really annoys me, because the people in the pictures are clearly wearing trousers that are a billion sizes too big, which does not show that a magic product made them lose weight.  It shows that the person in the picture:

a) is crap at buying trousers that fit 

b) has a weird nostalgiafor trousers that are now too big for them (HOARDERS)

c) stole a fat person's trousers

d) sat on their ass for 2 days and stretched their trousers out (like moi)

e) wears maternity trousers and jeggings

Basically, I hate all adverts, unless they are selling chocolate,because chocolate is always good and makes no false claims.

PS - I have lost, like, a pound since this picture was taken, so I probably look mega skinny now.

World cup Luis Suarez special