Wednesday, 30 January 2013

Mother Ducker

I rarely pen my complaints but see below my strongly worded letter to the Sky Channel, Disney Jr.

F.A.O Walt

I was sat watching Disney Jr+ today with my Nephew, Logan, who is 2.5 years of age. We were initially watching Little Einstein's because I love the way the programme negates a childs need for numeracy and basic literacy skills, skipping straight to higher status curriculum such as classical music and fine art. I'm sure this will equip Logan with the knowledge he requires to fit into preschool next year and for that I'm grateful.

However once this programme finished we left Disney Jr+ on and watched "Mickey Mouse Club House" it's the first time we've seen this show and we both started watching with an air of apprehension, but we were warming to the characters, in particular the mouse called Michael who appears to be the star of the show. He's very warm and friendly and will no doubt become a big name in children's television.
As Michael the Mouse charmed us into letting our guard down, luring us into a false sense of security, his friend Donald did something quite astonishing. I was dubious of Donald to begin with as he wasn't wearing any trousers and sported this look with the utmost confidence, almost as though he was completely unaware of his state of semi undress. But he confirmed my suspicions towards his maverick approach to children's entertainment when he referred to a duckling as a "Cute Mother F***er" (see video attached)
It has completely spoilt my weekend, and that's saying something because it is Wednesday. I played it back several times as I couldn't believe what was coming out of his bill, and can only conclude that he definitely says "Cute Mother *uck***." I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt due to his obvious speech impediment, I thought it may be possible that he was trying to say "Cute little Fella" but the tone of his voice is quite aggressive, the inflection in his words gives nuance to negative intentions that doesn't quite correlate with that choice of words, I mean, I personally haven't heard anyone say "Cute little fella" with quite as much vigour.
I stopped replaying the clip when my nephew started repeating it, I hadn't said what I thought Donald said out loud, so he certainly wasn't repeating me, but hearing a 2.5 year old boy repeating "Cute moth*r *ucker" after a cartoon duck is not my idea of fun.
Can you please furnish me with an explanation to this madness before my sister gets home and asks me why the apple of her eye is belting out profanities?
Kind Regards,
Kai Humphries

Monday, 28 January 2013

Pull your socks up Kai!

I've only just started breathing after my own mother paralysed me with embarrassment. I ask myself "why am I about to share this story with you?" and the answer I can only guess, is that your laughter is worth more to me than my own dignity.

Just an hour ago my mam was boring me to near comatose with a bag of Matalan clothes she bought my dad, bragging about the value of each £2 garment that she produced from the bag. Just as I was about to nod off she perked up "I've got something for you too Kai" and handed me a multi-pack of black socks;

"And listen Kai, please don't use them for anything filthy...."


I'm going to take you back to 1998 when I was a 14 year old, skinny, specky, ginger boy. I just got home from skiving school and as I opened the door to my parents house my heart sank to the pit of my soul. What I saw in front of me in the passage was worse than anything I could have possibly imagined, my unblinking eyes gazed horrified at what was in front of me; In the small passage between the stairs and the living room door where I was so used to seeing my sisters bike and the hoover on a daily basis, was a mattress... my mattress... my OLD mattress.

My school bag hit the floor and I broke my personal best time for getting up the stairs, I burst into my bedroom, taking the doors off the hinges and low in behold there was my freshly made bed complete with NEW mattress. This was the moment of truth, I slowly lifted it up from one corner, a manoeuvre I'd become all to familiar doing with my old one and sure enough my life was over. All I saw was wooden lats, lots of wooden lats in clear view. The image still haunts me....

...My Socks were gone.

My mam had replaced my mattress and personally moved the socks. The beautiful angel of a lady that is my mam had been to a dark place that no woman should ever go, she delved into the spaff riddled belly of hell underneath her disgusting adolescent sons mattress and had herself a little tidy up. I felt both nauseous and suicidal as the reality of the situation set in, how could I do this to the person I love the most? Do I apologise? How do I even face her again? I can never look my mam in the eye, the innocent mother-son bond that was my safe haven in this cruel world was compromised...

...I'd lost my mam.

After what felt like days I finally showed my face, my adorable wee mammy was pottering about the house doing chores, being her usual chirpy self when she spotted me and reacted to her ugly, vile, abomination of a creation with the active unconditional love that only the parent of a ginger child can possess; "Hi Gorgeous, how was school?" if nothing had even happened. I trod sheepishly in my house for the days that followed, waiting for the horrific moment to be brought up, but days became weeks and weeks became months. Removing those catch rags from under my bed must have been my mothers Naam. She knew what she did that day, I knew what she did that day, and she knew that I knew what she saw that day. But Linda Humphries didn't utter a single word, she just went on loving me, and raised me to be the man I am today.


Fast forward 15 years to 2013, where I'm a 29 year old, self employed home owner, visiting my proud parents on an impromptu visit to tell them about my travels, catch up on family affairs and drop off laundry. When my mam finally breaks, hands me a multi-pack of Matilan black socks and with admirable nonchalance, gets the weight of over a decades suppressed trauma off her shoulders. Reducing me to the 14 year old, specky ginger gimp that I was that day with the following calmly delivered rant:

"And listen Kai, please don't use them for anything filthy... Since you've moved out I've always bought your underwear and done your laundry and well, there are always less socks in your laundry than what I'm buying you, there's a recession you know, you can't keep going through socks like this, I'm going to start buying you tissues for Christmas..."   

Then the moment arrived

"...That day when I changed your mattress, I couldn't understand why your socks were so hard, they were like corregated iron, I had to ask your dad. I would have bloody well used gloves if I had known it was something that disgusting, I just thought you would have grown out of it by now you know, LOOK, Just use them as socks this time!!!"

I have feared this day my entire life, I still haven't responded to my mam, she's just pottering about the house doing chores as I type looking liberated by her recent actions. The only way I felt fit to deal with it was to write this blog! So I hope you enjoyed it.


Friday, 25 January 2013

News for Dummies: 25/01/13

Katie Price aka Jordan aka Sewer Snatch aka The Sperm Bank aka Terror Womb aka Aids Vat aka..... You get the point and know who Katie Price is (you just don't know why she is!) Anyway, she announced her honeymoon was ruined by a butler who asked her if she was a porn-star.... HMMMMM I wonder what give him that idea poppet, maybe the porn you were in???? If men like that butler didn't wank over you, you wouldn't be here. He's paying your wage not the other way around.

More than 50% of babies are born to women over the age of 30, this figure would be less than 10% if it wasn't for Davina McCall

British scientists are working on developing a non melting chocolate so we can enjoy chocolate hobnobs in hot countries, it's funny because last time I was on holiday I was lounging on the beach thinking "I know we haven't cured cancer yet and we don't have an answer for the imminent expiration of fossil fuels, but i'd kill for something to dunk into this iced tea" I'm glad to see we're finally distributing our scientists wisely.

Now Waitrose have jumped on the horse drawn band wagon of announcing they've got bronco in their burgers, remember when we were ready to kill Tesco for it? It's getting like the "I am Sparacus" of food poisoning.

Isolated farmers in Ireland could be allowed to drink drive in a bid to cut boredom. I'm not sure if this law is for the farmers boredom or the queue of traffic stuck behind the tractors, because I'd do way less complaining if the tractor driver was in his pants with a cone on his head singing "Hero" down the phone to his wife. 

A pregnant woman was allowed her dog in the hospital to watch her give birth. (The cunt wasn't even blind) I'm not too shocked by this because I grew up in a generation where it's cool to let Andrex puppies watch you take a shit, I just don't see what it's going to achieve, unless she was just saving money on dog food.

Thursday, 24 January 2013

News for Dummies 24/01/2013

I'm so hungry I could eat a horse..... Well that's handy!

Fast food chains like Burger King and McDonalds are now dumping burgers in case there are traces of horse meat, now as I'm aware horse meat is safe to eat and we can't taste the difference.... I'll tell you what isn't safe to eat and tastes like poison, GHERKINS, but you have no qualms about spiking my tasty snack with those little rancid cunts.

Here's a little fact about GHERKINS, McDonalds burgers have such a high sugar content, if it wasn't for the acidic GHERKINS bringing the overall sugar content of the burger down, by law it would have to be taxed as a cake. So my theory is, they dumped those burgers knowing people feed horses suger cubes thus requiring extra GHERKINS, and they drew the moral line at doing that to us!

A 15 year old girl who killed herself is said to have done so because of school bullies, the community are demanding the bullies are named and shamed. I don't think this is right, we need the necessary evil that is bullying to mould us as adults, we don't want to come out of school as the same pussies that went in, we simply wouldn't survive in this cruel world. Seriously, if it wasn't for bullies I'd still be this guy...

"It is posible for a child to look like a pedophile"  - Mark Nelson

...And I'd rather be dead.

Tory MP, Anna Soubry, claims you can tell a persons background by their weight as most poor people are fat. We live in a nation where our "poor" people are fat and they complain about money troubles on the internet via their iPhones, economic crisis what?? We don't know what poor is. I'd love to see a TV advert appealing for donations to help Africa, showing a fat Somalian woman sat watching Jeremy Kyle, tweeting about not getting her benefits... "for just £3 per month we can give this cunt more cigarettes" 

Poooor Poooor Britain, put your dummy in, get a job, get a diet, get a life!

An RE teacher was jailed for 5 years after telling her pupils not to marry so they can sleep around; at least she was just suggesting the kids should have sex, the PE teachers usually force them to. 

Prince Harry is back from Afghanistan and is eager to meet back up with his step-brother William; Wills was worried sick about Harry, not due to the threat of the Taliban but more the fact he was a ginger in the desert!

Chelsea midfielder Eden Hazard kicked a ball boy in the semi.............. final of the Capital Cup. 
The 17 year old ball boy stopped Hazard getting the ball so he kicked him in the ribs (not the semi) resulting in a red card. Is it that big a deal if the ball "boy" was 17? When Hazard could have got away with a yellow for the same thing on a 17yo footballer. If 17 year olds aren't considered adults, well handcuff me and take me to jail because I'm a bad bad man! 

Friday, 18 January 2013

Culture for Dummies: Amsterdam

I've just been to Amsterdam and all I heard before I left was "you can't smoke weed over there, it's illegal now" fuck! It's illegal over here in England but it doesn't stop me, anyway, turns out that myth is a crock of propaganda bollocks and I got off my tits legally shortly before a black whore shouted at me for taking her photo... the city still has all the charm we know and love.

But I'm not here to talk about the obvious, the women of negotiable virtue and the sticky icky icky (oooh weee.) I'm prompted to write this blog because I let some culture into my life and went to visit the gaff that Anne Frank blunted her pencil, and to be frank, she had a cushy little number. I was lead to believe she survived in an attic on her own, but the  attic was just a small part of the mansion she lived in, she tried to get her boyfriend, Peter, up their for a cheeky nosh (that's right she lived with her boyfriend) but her dad, Otto, used to prohibit it (that's right she had her whole family for company.) So all this about being trapped in an attic and it turns out the 14 year old promiscuous little strumpet wanted nothing more than to be in said attic getting herself some 16 year old bratwurst.

As for the house she lived in, it's nicer than mine, she had a kitchen, a bathroom, baby changing facilities, a gift shop... It was the tits. And no wonder the Nazi's didn't find her it was £9/person to get in. Jokes aside though the dwelling was lovely, she did have all the amenities, and company, not to mention boardgames and a radio. It was a massive fishtank and a Scarface poster away from being an episode of MTV cribs. They even had a bookshelf that moved to reveal a door for christ sake... I wasn't expecting to turn up to Anne Franks house and be jealous! 

I'm not saying it's the perfect situation, but given the circumstances that everyone else was in PoW camps and or dead, simply being grounded for 2 years seems like a sweet deal. If David Blain's next stunt was to stay in his house for 2 years with only family and friends for company we'd be all "You're having a laugh David, do it in an igloo in antarctica on your own with no clothes on or we don't give a shit" 

So... in conclusion... poor little rich girl dodges concentration camp life and lives in relative luxury for 2 years. 

Spoiler: It has a happy ending for her dad, he survives the war and gets rich as shit off their story.

Go Otto, you fucking cock block!