Let us witness, the tin of Carnation [Milk], of the Sun...

The BBC is renown for the intellectual prowess of it's presenters. The other channels... less so.

I thought channels like TLC¹ were the epitome of dumbed down tevevisual gormstrosity. But today's ITV news takes the biscuit. or cookie. or [Jaffa] cake. or something.

For, according to the blonde bimbette, was the one in a lifetime opportunity. The Day Of The Three Ss.

Sigue Sigue Sputnik!!!

Alas, no. An altogether different satellite. To whit, the Moon.

(was that an owl?)

So, what is this astrophysical conjunction of three Ss then?

1. The Supermoon! The moon is at it's nearest point in orbit to Earth, Meaning it's FUCKING HUGE in the sky!

2. The Equinox! Ermm... well, the X sounds like an S. ish. Although they didn't mention it, let's give her the benefit of the doubt, and assume she meant Winter-into-Spring Equinox! Or the first day of Spring!

3. The Eclipse!... No, apart from the S at the end, I got nothing. I guess she was thinking of Stepanie Meyer's Twishite Saga, of which Eclipse is the third novel. 

Day of the three Ss my best hat!

And as for this so-called once-in-a-lifetime never-to-be-missed tell-yer-grandchildren-about-it eclipse! I'm glad I took Susanna Reid off ITV's Breakfast's advice, and saved my eyes by watching it through a colander, because (a) I looked like a hunky gladiator, and (b) I couldn't see anything as the majority of the view was a dirty great colander, and the holes not big enough to get a clear view!

But witness this spectacular event as seen from Norwich! See how the Eclipse began!

Ooohh, the Great Dung Beetle has rolled his celestial ball of shite halfway over the burning eye of Ra!

N'gaiah!!! Ye skyes are blackened by deepest night! Ye würlde plungeth into deepest anarchy! Dark tentacles plummet from Beyond Ye Spheres, reaping humanity and plunging their helpless flesh deep into Ye Great Olde one's interdimensional maw and feast on our souls for all eternity. Ïa! Ïa! Yog-Sothoth! Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn! Zi dingir anna kanpa, zi dingir kia kanpa! Shadu yu lite kunuski²! Oh, wait...

Why, I could barely keep my Jaffa Cake guzzlement in synch with the gobblement of Sol by the Sky Dragon! Full moon? Half moon?... Totally piss! 

Astronomy? Arsetronomy, more like!!!

¹ ALLEGEDLY, THE 'LEARNING' CHANNEL. SHOWCASING SUCH EDUCATIONAL GEMS AS HERE COMES HONEY BOO-BOO. 
² MAY THE MOUNTAIN, SHAKE YOU TO THE CORE

Don't count your chickens...

Apparently, you shouldn't count your chickens before they're hatched.

Well Duhr.

That's because it's IMPOSSIBLE!

Mainly because there are no chickens before they hatch. Chickens, before they hatch, are Eggs. So presumably, the proverb should be "Don't count your EGGS before they hatch, in case you fancy an omelette. or a fry up. or something".

Besides, even when eggs hatch, they don't hatch into chickens - they hatch into chicks, who grow into chickens. Roosters, Hens and Cockerels.

So, I respectfully suggest the proverb be amended to:

Don't estimate the accumulated total of poultry based on the quantity of available eggs, as some may be fertilised, some not, and some scrambled by poachers nicking the fish. It is also wise not to pre-dertemine the total quantity of your eventual fowl brood, as post-hatching evolution decrees some chicks will not survive due to the environ. With foxes and bears tearing up the chicken coops. Such variables make calculating your eventual totality of farmyard avian survivors quite indeterminate.

or something.

probably.

The thigh's the limit...

Right, now, sexytime.

This appeared on my Facebook Feed this fair morrow:

Now, this caused much argument over sexism, fat vs skinny, figure judgement, etc...

But what annoyed me was the definition of "Thigh Gap".

Now, to me, the lovely lady on the left has a thigh gap - her thighs are clearly apart. The curvascious cutie in the right, however, has no thigh gap - her thighs clearly meet.

"But Xym, you fool, that's not the thigh gap! The thigh gap is what the slut on the right has - that space just under her snatch"

Ah, clearly I'm dealing with the illiterati once more! Thighs are the mid-point of your upper legs between hip & knee. Therefore, if the thighs are pressed together, as with the sexpot on the right, there is no gap between them. Whereas the honey on the left has a clear space betwixt both thighs all the way down.

What you're talking about, my friends, is not a thigh gap. It's the space at the top of the thighs at the groinal conjunction.

Now, to be somewhat coarse and crude, both babes have what it known as the CGI¹, the measurement of minge width before contact with the upper thigh. 

However, the woman on the right has somewhat fuller thighs, creating a space between flange and thighs. This is commonly known as The #BoxGap, GroinGap, or Toblerone Triangle.

Get your anatomy right, people!

¹ CUNT GAP INDEX

Walk like a complete pratt...

Slow news day in the Evening Nudes today.

Wes Hoolahan disrespected Norwich City fans with bizarre lack of celebration when he scored against Aston Villa

Now, y'all know how much I loathe the kickyball, but this takes the biscuit.

Which is handy, coz on this Adrenalize & Eating Plan malarky, I've already lost 7lb, so could do without the biccies anyway,

Anyhoo - as I understand kickyball, you swing a leg, kick a ball, it goes forward, and if lucky you score a goal. Job done.

So how is it "disrespectful" to not act like a twat after scoring a goal?

"Huzzah! I've kicked a ball into a huge fuck off size net, obfuscated slightly by a tiny human. Right, now to save my energy and do it all again..."

What's wrong with that? Disrespectful, apparently.

It seems putting a wee small ball into a ginormous hole much, much bigger that the foot-propelled sphere isn't enough. Oh no.

They want you to act like a right gobshite. Poncing about with a shirt over their face while dancing like a retarded gormster.

Acting like a total arse, just because you knocked a tiny object into a cavernous space.

Kickyballers and kickerballer fans. Never have, and never will, understand the appeal. Especially stories like this. 

"Disrespect" for a "bizzare lack of celebration" indeed!

It's like them fucktards on Britain's Allegedly Got Talent who get told they're through to the next round who can't simply say "Thank you" and walk away proudly, but have to scream and screech, fall to the floor, leap about like rabid kangaroos, and generally act like feral primates on speed.

If I have a job interview, and they say "Congratulations, you're hired", I wouldn't scream like a Baine Sidhé, pick up the interviewer, twirl them about, then do a celebratory jig around the room. If I did, I'd expect to be summarily fired!

Alan Sugar doesn't have to put up with this on The Apprentice. One tried after winning a task by screaming "Yes" whilst doing the universal symbol for fisting. Alan Sugar told him right off for being a cockpiece.

Bizzare lack of celebration! The mind doth boggle!

Oh There Is No Love Between Us Anymore...

What is it with the yoof of today, with their txtspk and non-stop Jeremy Kyle multiple partnered shagathons?

All over Facebook today, lots of celebratory statuses (statii?) of an abbreviated fashion:

"Happy VD Day!" they post.

Now, I'm no expert, but surely no-one's happy to be infected with some form of genital plague on their most romantic of days - and it can't bode well for your chances of sexual intercourse if you're wishing the joys of an STD on your lover.

"But Xym, VD Day is Valentine's Day! Duhr!"

Well, no - that would mean VD Day stands for Valentines Day Day.  VD Day and Valentine's Day are two totally different things!

Although one may be an inevitable outcome of the other on the Estate, leading to Jezza lie detectors.

And then there's them loved up couples, ever eager to rub a singletons face in their fæces, who don't like the fact that people take exception to a singular day of celebration. After all, these people have to suffer their Other Half 24/7, 365 days a year. They need this one, special, day to prove their love to each other by:

❥ Expecting (and not getting) Breakfast in bed
❥ Not expecting cards & presents, but despite agreeing "we're not doing Valentine's this year" THEY has bought YOU a present, and they only got a card off your mum. Or the baby/kids. or the dog. Said card being a piece of card shoved in front of the kids 2 mins ago with frightful urgency to scribble something you can pass off as cute.
❥ Expecting a romantic day together, but you'd both rather go to work & flirt with co-workers rather than actually spend the day together. And the one who didn't buy a pressie now has to spend their lunch hour racing about trying to find a present in return for the one they got, fuming in anger because (as mentioned) we agreed not to do Valentines and now they HAVE to find a present (on the pretext it was 'being saved for later') and everything's now all fucking expensive as the prices have been jacked up by greedy corporate money-grabbing Fat Cats just because it's Valentine's Day. Argument brewing: Why the fuck did they have to buy me a sodding present... and no matter what I get, they won't like it anyway. Bitching bastard!
❥ Expecting to come home to a romantic, petal strewn bath followed by a candlelit dinner, which becomes a race to get ready when you get in, coz you have to rush to the restaurant before the tables are all booked, and you have a two-for-one voucher to lavish lovingly on your lover, so you can't go anywhere else.
❥ Expecting a romantic, violin playing atmosphere, but end up droning on about work, kids, and general shit. And have a huge row, before driving home in sullen silence.
❥ Expecting a lingering smooch in the hall, before being led upstairs for slow, orgasmic 50 Shades Of Sadomasochistic Lovemaking, but just walk in and let rip a huge fart due to the meal, and you're both too stuffed to shag, so fall asleep in front of the telly,

And THEM people, those loved up smug types, look down on those who decry Valentines Day. And they post twee little admonishing messages, such as this:

Well, thank you, you inconsiderate cuntbucket! So I don't have a Valentine on Valentine's Day... but thanks for reminding me about my father's death. I feel so much more shame at maligning your romance, knowing that you're using my deceased ancestral line to boost your own ego. 

Well, bully for you - you got a lover who you can only be arsed to treat lovingly once a year. Me - I don't have that luxury, and now you're using the ashes of my cremated pater to salve my loneliness to make you feel better about celebrating some religious martyr.

Shut the fuck up?

Fuck you.

Fuck you very much.

I came in (your hair) like a goldfish bowl...

"Roll up, roll up, all the fun of the hair! Step right in, Sir! A finer coiffure of such wanton abandon you will never see! See it's erectile verticality - yes boys, this is one fine follicle arrangement you don't take home to your momma! Yes siree, this is memory you will take to your grave, a cranial adornment you will NEVER forget! Gentlemen, I give you Xym's Barnet to bugger!"

Say whaaaaaaat?!?!?!

Clearly The Xym is sporting one of them there "hidden indicators" what tell "those in the know" he's gay, when he clearly ain't.

You know, like wearing them low slung jeans with yer ass hanging out and pants on show means "I've been in prison for, like, ages and stuff, and I'm lowering my trousers to indicate I want someone to do me up the shitbox"

Obviously there's Something About Xymni that sends out a message that gayboys interpret as "oh hello, there's a fellow gayboy" resulting in the misinterpretation of Xym sexuality and last nights offer of Cameron Diazerry.

For after heaping much praise up one one's luscious locks, a request was made as to whether he could copulate with the crimpy Mohawk of lustful arousal.

He wanted to sex my hair! To fuck my fullsome follicle forestry with his fapped up phallus! To bukkake my barnet!

Ewwwwwww!

Well, that certainly put the wind up my manly mane (coz no-one putting the willies up MY plumage!) and from then on it was doomed. Rapidly descending into a wilted impotent mop, and where Princess Fiona might like to take Adam Sandler's chucked muck into her quiff (queef?) to stiffen her alicorn, I refuse to let another man jizz in my mowie just to maintain perfect plumage!

If anyone knows what the hidden signal for "I am gay" is, please let me know so I can remove it - I have no desire for unwarranted surreptitious spunkings to gel up my hair!

It would make my hair look terrible under the UV lights.

Has he got news for us...

By 'eck, we don't half get into some scrapes!

I've been compared to many peoples over the years, many inexplicable. Dustin Hoffman, Dave Vanian, etc.

But Boy George?

Now, there were many humerous adventures down the Whatacunt tonight. I would regail you with them all, but the highlight was being threatened with a duffing up by Jimmy Somerville.

We'd come out, and a triplicity of peoples somehow joined our group, one of whom bore a likeness to the Bronski meat Beater, who was clearly looking for a fight.

Presumably because his diminutive Small Town Boy Gay look needing beefing up a bit, so he was trying to be so macho. Like that Sin Eater who nobbed Simon Cowell. or something.

Anyhoo, as we made out way up King's Street, he began insulting us one by one. One of us in particular. After averting many bear fisticuffs, we managed to separate the goader & someone else.

But alas, the sarky Somerville kept on needling at Stewie, and began creeping up behind to get a fight on. 

So foolishly, everyone's favourite Chivalrous Kerniggit In Shining Ordure stepped between, to keeps them apart. But in his rage to attack, he barged past me and decided to turn his wrath upon the Xym.

"Do you want some then, Boy George? Fuck you, yeah"

Unfortunately, I was so creased up in hilarity at such an out of the blue incomprensible insult, I missed his so-called mate decide to take action, and jump on him. Upon which he fled like a little girl, and all I could think was Small Town Boy "Run Away, turn away, run away, turn away, run awaaaay", and further mirthings commenced.

Unfortunately for him, both his "mates" and someone else raced after him and gave him a right good kicking.

He wasn't so gobby or goading for a fight after that.

But he had lost his shoe, which made me laugh even more.

I should have stepped in and stopped it, but to be honest - he did deserved it. And it was well funny.

It's always an adventure when we go out.

Always take yer feathers with you...

Oh, once more my millinery accoutrément lands me in a spot of bother with follicly challenged gayboy chavscum!

This week, I was in my Steampunky feathery hornyness, and was met with occasional demands to let others adorn their ocularity with the purple spex of sexyness, or the gorgeous goggles of begogglery.

Anyhoo, as ever, there are those who want to actually wear one's cranial top-piece, and for some reason get all arsey is they's not alloweded to!

In the smoking area:
"Can I wear yer 'at mate?"
"No. It's my hat. I'll have all hat hair. So no."

Up on the dance floor
"Go on, lerrus wear your hat"
"No"

In the bog corridor
"Giz a wear o' yer hat"
"NO! That's thrice you've asked and yous not gonna wear it!"

Leaving the Whatacunt
*Git tries to swipe one's topper*
"Oi! You've been told no! Leave us alone!"

Outside...
*git sneaks up behind, and actually thieves one's hat and covers his own cunty coiffuré! *
*Xym swipes back the hat, and unlike previous hat-based altercations with gayboy chavscum, decides not tp punch the burglar in the face*
*git burst into tears at not being allowed to wear Xym's hat.*

Oh well. One also suspects one may have killed one's chances with my Starbucks Siren, who I think may have witness me berating the "thieving fat cunt" for being a thieving fat cunt.

Nothing ever changes, does it! 

Troll a lol a lol la la lol... TAG! You're NOT it...

Why does the world have to be plagued by trolling Gormsters.

Once again, the illiterate buffoons of the eReader discussion groups are up in arms. 

This time over people using Pseudonyms. 

"Why can't people use their own names? I don't understand why anyone would want to use anything than the name they were given?" quoth some (despite having obviously false ridiculous names).

Then, one troll provided the perfect prosaic reason for their use of a nom-de-plume¹. Witness this verbose troll's supposed relevant contribution to using false names:

"I lurve you my little no voter! I bet you so cute in the morning with your little jimjams on...sitting there eating your chocopops!......dribbling little drops of milk down your new clean bib,...furry animal slippers waggling off your darling little white hairy legs....awwww! Bless! Kiss Kiss!
I imagine them (the no voters) sitting in a dark room, blinds down, with a bank of old style computers placed in a circle round a swivel chair....on top of each screen is a light..this flashes the moment someone posts on the forum...the chair with a cloaked figure slides across the room a wizened claw like hand darts from the folds of the bat like cape and a boney finger lands down on the "yes No" key...a cackle rises from the throat of a half hidden face that would strike terror into the bravest heart!......."Mwwwaaaa! the power!" in that split second an urge, stronger than cold black tea rises....and a mad dash for the toilet is called for...as two scrawny legs that wouldn't stop a pig in a passage scurry across the floor towards a cobweb infested closet...made it!"

Well, one had to make comment on such trollage. Why - doesn't this adequately demonstrate why trolls hide behind their laptops - to spew their bile and venom without fear of consequence.

And naturally, another came back with "Yeah, and you're really "The Xym" aint'cha!"

Well DUHR! Of course I'm THE Xym. A quick tour of Google quite quickly proves The Xym is The Xym². Yes, my name is slightly longer, but I am referred to as The Xym due to the singularity of Xymness. And due to the uniqueness and high esteem one is held in, one is not just "The Xym" - one is THE Xym.

But apparently, I'm wrong. Dat is mah tag, innit! 

Eh, whut? Tags are them there spraycanned graffiti names all over underpasses and desolate garage walls - The Xym is not a tag. I am human³... not a sewn in label in the seam of a shirt!

Anyhoo, I went through the Forum home page. 18 threads on there, and only 5 are unrelated to the forum.

Most of the normal, discussion threads - yep, mostly used by people with normal names. But the troll threads... oh dear. Hardly any with actual names - it's all preposterous pseudonyms. 

And the content...

...well, let's just say some people should have stayed in school. Or they're at school, trolling on their phone. Only that can explain the retardery of some of their posts.

It makes you worry about the sanity of some people. It seems they're so mentally deficient, they must stay at home in darkened rooms, deperately thinking of something "clever" to type, and the best they can come up with is the barely literate ramblings of a loon!

"Much like this blog then, eh!" ← Reader's voice

Oi! Watch it!

At least this blog allows some form of intellectual stimulation with no constrained limitations. A dedicated forum for a specific device may limit the content somewhat, but the best these gormsters contribute is stuffs like:
"complain the bewildered bugs"
"Whatever happened to "Mr Pastry?"...eric I have to ban ya...the Goodies!!!???"
""Bzzz!" say the bees."
"Gin smells o perfume. All whiskys smell diferent"

All advice which, we can clearly agree, I can apply to my Kindle Touch when I get home! And they're at this all day! 

Oh, but Amazon have a handy voting tip! You can get the trollcrap filtered out by voting posts that add nothing to the discussion as adding nothing to the discussion! Enough people vote, and the posts get hidden! yay!

On the downside, they also have a Yes option, so the trolls band together under their bridges, and block vote them back in again, so you're back with pages and pages of childish drivel.

For example, remember that trolling abuse above? 2 people, yes TWO PEOPLE have voted that as being a contribution that adds to the discussion of Kindles. To me - IT DOES NOT! It's a troll post casting aspersions on asparagus other people!

Personal abuse, or an insight into Kindle functionality that could enhance my eReading experience?

Well, at least 2 people think the latter, so The Xym must be wrong.

Unless, of course, it's one of the Troll Clan who have registered many times to fill up the forum with their gibberish, and using their alter-egos to bump up the votes on their own posts. I really can't see how some of these posts get Yes votes, when they are naught more than outright insults or childish mewlings.

I mean - honestly. They complain about people having no life, for simply spending two minutes running down a screen and voting retarded fuckwittery as being irrelevant crap. Yet they spend all day thinking up and posting incomprehensible twattery to out-incomprehense and out-twat the previous incomprehensible twatmeister of a poster!

The mind veritable boggles!

¹ NOT TO BE CONFUSED WIT' DA MODERN TRANSLATION, NOM ON PLUMS, WHICH IS TEABAGGING, INNIT BRUV, YA GIT ME BLOOD, P'TSHAW. OR SUM'TIM'. YEAHMON.

² WELL, MAYBE NOT SO MUCH A QUICK SEARCH ANYMORE. AS THE XYM BECOMES MORE AND MORE FAMED THROUGHOUT THE LAND (AS WELL AS FURRIN SHORES), SO PEOPLE HONOUR HIM BY NAMING THEIR STUFFS AFTER HIM! A CHINAMAN HAS NAMED A BOUTIQUE IN CHIANG MAI AFTER ME, AND A KOREAN HAS NAMED A MOTEL IN DAEGU AFTER ME. THERE'S PROBABLY OTHER STUFFS MY ADORING FANS HAVE ALL NAMED AFTER ME - AFTER ALL, MANY ARE THE LUSTFUL PRETTIES DOWN THE WHATACUNT WHO'VE NAMED THEIR VIBE IN MY PHALLIC HONOUR. AND THAT'S ACTUALLY TRUE, THAT IS. PROBABLY. OR NOT. AS THE CASE MAY BE. OR SOMETHING.

³ AND I NEED TO BE LOVED, JUST LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE DOES. PREFERABLY BY CAROL PHWOARDERMAN, CLAWED EAR WANKLEMAN, HELL I'D-BONE-HER CARTER, ETC, ETC...

I believe in justice! I believe in vengeance! I believe in...

...getting the bastard who got the bastard who got the bastard who got the bastard who got the bastard who got...

Right, before I start, I'll warn ye now. This blog will probably piss some of you off. Once again, The Xym is going to make himself unpopular.

Although my true friends will understand that I can have a different opinion to theirs, so shouldn't be too irate with me...

So, that warning out of the way...

Some poltroon has posted a picture on Facebook, shared from the gormsters of I Am Proud To Be A Xenophonic Racist Bigot British, inviting people to like and share this picture:

Now, let me just explain what you're advocating here.

You're saying that Attempted Murder By Imprisoned Violent Criminals is "good news".

Sorry - but isn't Attempted Murder bad news? After all, it is sort of illegal. And before you excuse "an attack" as "just a kicking" - isn't that as bad? Or is crime justified, based on Daily Fail hysteria and xenophobia.

Let's remind ourselves here: The family of Lee Rigby wanted no reprisals against his accusers. So if anything, anyone who is "proud" of this violent thug's attack, or think it is "good news" is totally ignoring the families feelings, and insulting them by dishonouring their wishes.

Would it be good news if the scumbag serving sentence in prison was also attacked? Or, for those who say, "I  would have done exactly the same!" - would it truly be "good news" if you were given a damn good hiding for attacking someone?

Sorry, but this Shared Picture is nothing more than racist hate crime, and just perpetuates the cycle of violence. 

Let's put it in simples terms:

• Muslims¹ were fighting muslims
• Britain et al wade in
• British soldiers are killing "insurgents", "Rebels" and innocent muslims
• Muslims seek vengeance on their "terrorist, invading" attackers
• British soldiers continue killing "insurgents", "Rebels" and innocent muslims
• Muslims seek vengeance on their "terrorist, invading" attackers, and bring the fight right to their invaders' door
• Racist gormsters in jail seek vengeance for an attack on Innocent British Soldiers
• Supporters of the now Martyr'd soldier seek revenge on racist gormsters in jail?
• Eye for an eye for an eye for an eye ad-infinitum

- presumably all of which is this "good news"... or am I missing something?

I suppose those who create this sort of divisive imagery are those who think they're decent, British patriots - creeping around at night in balaclavas, drawing swastikas on mosques and planting nail-bombs in bins in retaliation.

Good news my arse - it's a depressing, sad state of bigoted Daily Fail bollocks.

And to inject a little "humour" into this most depressive of blogs...

...of course, if the murderous Adebolajo had nicked me hat, that would be a different story!

¹ MUSLIMS IN THE CONTEXT OF THOSE ZEALOTS FIGHING THEIR JYHAD - NOT THE MAJORITY OF PROPER, PEACEFUL MUSLIMS

Cymbals clashing everywhere...

Well, not so much cymbals, more gongs.

As ever, we came fourth in the final, last ever quiz (which may end in a month or three). However, it has been an evening of much oriental mirth.

The Fu Manchu moustchios!

The audio accompanyment to pop hits not only in "club singer" style, but also in new improved stereotypical chinafolk "Crub singer" style! Fu Xym Chu performs top ten tasteless tracks...

...although I'm not sure which is more tasteless. Xym being all flied lice and pwarnee clackers in musical styree, or the Quizmaster playing a triplicity of Glittery goodness, such as, Papa Oooh Mau-mau¹, Doing Alright With The Boys² and Hello Hello I'm Back Again³.

Anyhoo, more orientalism, as a quick stop for some Duck Fried Rice and Spring Roll's to curb my anxiety attack of potential job loss this week.

So, as I sit here, stuffing me great fat face full of Daffy^4, that "tomorrows headlines in the paper" feature is on the tellybox.

Apparently, unlike Bernard Nolan, Murray Walker overcame his F1 cancer and for the first time in 77 years, won the coveted Womble's Bum. Or was it the first time since 1977 a Womble was on the telly, let alone it's bum. Although it's bum probably wasn't left alone - I'll leave that one for Operation Eeeeew Tree.

And Murray won on the 7^th day of the 7^th month too! And with that "77" yeary thing floating about, it makes him either an Antichrist or a Messiah. Or a mechanic on a Marussia when he's not commentating. or something.

Point is, these headlines were claiming that Murray's fans are demanding he's given a gong!

Presumably so he can strip down to a loincloth, and give it a good Rank bashing to get the chinese to serve up his meal of things that the everyday folk left behind that the savvy chef's gathered up and bunged in the pot noodle.

Gongs my arse! I think they mean "awards". However, I've noted that a lot of people on the tellybox say "And such-and-such a twat is up for a gong at the Shits" or "That actor (who's female but we can't call an actress because it's politically incorrect) is up for a gong for their performance of Miss Congeniality 3: Pimarché (where ♥Sandra Bollock♥ plays an undercover cop who detects dodgy dealings, this time in tight leggings showing off her swipe card reader to full effect)".

NO!

A gong is not an award. The term comes from them talent shows in the Black & Whites (60s?) when instead of Simon Cowell whacking Danni Minogues button for a big fat X, they banged a gong to stop the act coz it was SHIT.

So, you get a gong for being UTTER SHITE! And now, these so-called "celebs" are eager to get their mitts on a gong! And now, someone's fans are demanding that some scotchman who whacks his balls over a fence at Womble's Bum has to get a gong for winning? Surely you have to be good to be a winner, so deserves an award?

Honestly, these young folk today, and their dissin'!

"Yeah, he won Womble Bum - but I'd've rang that gong in round #1 and stopped the match, coz he's shit. I don't care about his number one seed... unless he spills it me strawberries, then the missus can have his cream."

Gongs my best hat!

¹ HEY JEFF - TELL 'EM T'JOKE ABOUT MAU-MAU. PINEAPPLES! UP THE ARSE! DEATH BY MAU-MAU! ON A SIMILAR NOTE, IN THIS CONTEXT, THIS SONG TITLE IS VIETNAMESE FOR "WHO'S THE DADDY? OOOH! TAKE IT UP THE ARSE, YOU UNDERAGE TOURIST SEXTRAP!". POSSIBLY. 

² VIETNAMESE BOYS, IN ALL LIKELYHOOD. AND DOING ALRIGHT... UNTIL HE GOT CAUGHT BY THE PÆDO POLICE!

³ BACK AGAIN IN VIETNAM ON THE PROWL FOR JAILBAIT. ALLEGEDLY.

⁴ DUCK, AS IN DAFFY DUCK. NOT DAPPY OUT OF N-DUBZ. ALTHOUGH I WOULDN'T MIND HAVING ME FACE FULL OF TULISA! THEM TWO LISA'S BEING LISA RODGERS AND ... UM... SOME OTHER FAMOUS LISA. THERE MUST BE ANOTHER... URGH - NOT LISA TARBUCK. NOR LEFT-EYE LOPEZ, COZ SHE'D BE A BIT WORMY BY NOW. LISA STANSFIELD... MAYBE? PLEASE SEND SUGGESTIONS FOR FAMOUS LISA'S XYM CAN'T REMEMBER THE SURNAMES OF WHO HE WOULDN'T MIND HAVING A FACE FULL OF TO XYM'S EMAIL. WITH PHOTOSHOPPED IMAGES OF NUDIE LISA'S. OR SOMETHING. OOOH - LISA KUDROW! LISA FRANKEDELSTEIN! 

Sure plays a mean Pinball...

"Truly inspiring to be able to come here. Anne was a great girl. Hopefully she would have been a belieber."

So quoth all round girlyboy, petulant child and total titwanked tosspiece Justin Beaver when visiting the Holocaustial memorial of Anne Frank.

As if Anne Frank would have been a Believer - them nasty Nazi's would have found her dead easy when hearing Genocide Inducing Hellmusic blaring from the gramophone.

She'd've probably glady ran into the ovens, rather than listen to his album again!

Unless, of course, she may have been a Belieber by beliebing that listening to that shite at an extremely low volume is the best way to tolerate it. As well as not embarassing yourself by letting anyone hear what your listening to.

"Du bist ein Jew?"
"Nein"
"Das is güt - aber, was ist das - du haben Justin Bieber! Gött in Himmel! Schweinhund! Gehen sie aus Auschwitz, shießkopf!" ¹

Anne Frank, my best hat!

If there's anyone in History who can truly appreciate the talent of Justin Bieber, it'd be Helen Keller...

...who discovered masturbation by reading her own lips, don't ya know!

¹ YES, MEIN DEUTSCH IST SEHR CRAPPEN. OR SOMETHING. COME ON, BE FAIR - I AIN'T SPOKE GERMAN SINCE 1988!

Coffee and (McGormsters on) TV...

Sometimes you have to wonder about da yoof of today, like, innit, bruv.

There's this advert where "Everyday McPeople" are McScumming it and talking McBollocks over their McFuckOffee.

Now, most discourse is generic:

● "Would you mind doing me a massive favour"
● "Just spent an hour talking about staplers"
● "I just feel differently about you now, so you is dumped, y'bastid!"
● "What do you think about us getting it on, you slaaag?"
● "I got the missus knocked up. You're an Aunt now, so buy us stuff, y'bitch!"

And there are two other conversations. One most intriguing: "Ohghk. And then he taped his face to the dog!". Now, that's a conversation I'd like to hear more about.

But, what really pisses me off are these retarded dumbasses:

The collection of clueless quim, conversing craply & consuming coffee

Their conversation goes like this:

"He text me back saying see you laytahrrr¹"

"See you laytahrrr?"

"Like, what does that even mean?"

And then she pulls a most confused face, as if perplexed by the whole concept.

WTF do they teach in schools these days? I know these so called GCSE's are dumbed down to a point where being able to spell your name guarantees a A+ grade, but even so - how can these dumb numb cumbuckets not know what "See You Later" means?

It's self explanatory - "See You Later" means see you later. Meet up at a point in time in the near future. Literally - later on, I'll see you.

Perhaps it's because they's women, and as all menfolk know, what a woman says invariably has no relation to what she's talking about.

When a man says "See you later", he means "See you later". When a woman says "See you later" she means one of a million interpretations from:
● "See you later"; through
● "See you later - not! Fuck off and die"; to
● "I'm going off for a bit to allow you time to buy me a present -
     specifically that thing we were just looking at that I said I DEFINATELY
     didn't want, and that other thing I didn't mention but subtly hinted at by not
     hinting at it in any way, shape, or form - and woe betide you if you haven't
     bought it by the time we meet up later, y'fookin' insensitive, unromantic
     bastard. Never buy me flowers do you. Well fuck you - not! I'm gonna shag
     this cashier in the changing rooms, that'll learn ya!"

or something.

Typical womens. Taking the most simple statement, and unnecessarily twisting and turning it to find some bizarre interpretation she can overanalyze and find fault with, just so she's got an excuse to be a right bitch for no reason whatsoever.

So fuck you McDonalds, and fuck yer McCoffee, ya McCunt!

See you later, what does that even mean, indeed!

¹ OR, MORE PROBABLY, C U L8R. BUT SHE REALLY DRAGS IT OUT WITH THAT WHINEY VOICE OF HERS

I, for one, welcome our reptilian overlord cranial forestry...

Well I never!

Now that I have finally manage to extract the last remnants of putrescent green from my plumage, I is popliar again!

Last week I had to suffer the disgust and revulsion of others, as the Color-Removal process failed and rendered my barnet in a shade that repulsed everyone.

But now, an emergency bleaching later, and everyone LOVES me again!

Went into Starbucks, and one of the serving wenches went on and on about my follicular display of brilliance!

And then, when I went to pick up my Gingybread Latté, one of my Pretties out of the blue muttered:

"£85 for full head"

Whoah! I knew Starbucks were a bit stingy on taxes, but I didn't realise their wages paid so low that Barista Babes were supplementing their income by going on the game, and offering their favourite customer cappuchino fellatio of a morning!

But £85 to play the pink oboe though? I'm not familiar with these so-called Ladies Of The Night, but that seems a bit steep to me. Perhaps it's the risk of being a Lady Of The Early Dawn And A Quick Gobble In The Disabled Bogs that hikes up the prices?

Anyhoo, as it turned out she was thinking about dyeing her hair, and was discussing prices with the other serving wench.

So good job I didn't ask for her full price list!

And what is it with fabulous hair and trolls? A pretty little squirrel sent me a link to this image:

Credit where credit's due
this guys hair is officially more awesome than mine!

Of course, being The FarceBurk, many people have commented. many a troll and retard with such things as:

"Photoshopped!"
"How did u do that?"
"WTF? That's dumb"
"PHOTOSHOP you dumass turdz!"

Usually by generic gormsters with crap hair, no individuality, and not a jot of interest about them, so they have to make retarded comments announcing that they are so thick, they can't (a) recognize hair and (b) can't fathom out how people can cut hair, let alone dye it!

I've actually seen this bloke in Norwich City Centre in HMV. Or if not him, someone with the same haircut, albeit without the mohican then, just the black lizard.

It's an easy cut to do, so no need for photoshopping, let along ask how it's done.

But, for the twatarse illiterati out there, this is how the hair is done.

1) With an electric razor, the sides are shaved down to a number 1/2 cut, leaving the centre long.
2) Take one of them "pen" shavers - the ones that shave them tramlines into the sides of gansta rapperz, and shave out the body & feet.
3) Bleach the mohican with lightening bleach from Boots, Superdrug or Savers
4) Apply colored dye in layers, also from Boots, Superdrug or Savers. Or Rock Shops, where they have fluorescent dyes (the hair above uses 5 colors).
5) Use gel/mouse to keep the mohawk "spine" vertical
6) Tease the front by curling it back, and attach a couple of eyes from a craft shop.

It's not rocket science! I could have this haircut next...

...but I won't as I'm decolorizing coz I need to be all Tim Burtony Black & White of barnet in March! After THAT, I may go for David Ice Reptillian Barnet.

Photoshopped/How Do You Do It indeed! Wot a bunch of gobshites!

ALL the things in threads...

No, not the library - Internetz forumz!

That hive of trolls, illiterati and opinionated gormsters¹.

Now, I've rather foolishly joined forums before. And I did note that any comment is utterly assailed with a plethora of abuse from ill-informed gobshites.

There are times I truly wished I was a gormster, and could descend to the ignorance of others.

Anyhooo I dropped out, and rather foolishly joined others. Primary as a lurker to follow advice, new releases, cheap deals, etc.

But woe is Xym, for he cannot keep his great big fat gob shut!

Never mind the "Carl McCoy doesn't know his own lyrics, I know what they actually are, not what he sez they are" debacle from the Gormrazers (fucksake, they were arguing over Dawnrazor, Carl's wife Lynn calligraphed them, and put them on the official website. Apparently, those lyrics are wrong - despite sounding exactly like what's sung. Gormrazors always know better - like forming twat towers blocking everyones view and waving nemo fish about like retards).

Anyhew, one forum is dedicated a specific subject. One subject, that is, and one subject only. And sometimes it's hard to find relevant stuff on it, coz the forum is spammed with irrelevant shite.

Now, this particular subject is the Kindle. Problems, eBooks, purchasing, apps, etc.

So some woman starts a topic on "HELP! Is this dress suitable for a wedding, or is it to Office-y".

Unsurprisingly, it got panned for being off topic. Until someone said "What's so strange about this - why can't ladies have fashion sense?"

And, foolish fat boy that I am, I told them.

I happened to mention that it comes across that it's reinforcing stereotypes - that of the thick blonde bimbo who thinks only "dresses, dresses, dresses"². Why else come onto a forum dedicated to discussing Kindle to derail it by babbling airheadedly about dresses? How on earth is pondering a party dress related to a Kindle, or Kindle eBook? It's not, which makes the poster either a spamming troll deliberately clogging up the thread with irrelevant trivial tosh, or a gossiping gormster who can't distinguish between an electronic device and attire. Surely if they want to discuss fashion, they post on a fashion thread, not an eReader thread!

All couched in my usual, inimitable, flowery style.

Suffice to say I was instantly hit with abuse by a triplicity of dress obsessed ogresses.

'snot my fault they can't comprehend that a Kindle Discussion Forum is a Forum to Discuss Kindles, and not the place to witter on about dresses, boyfriends, shoes and the fact that it's too wet to put the washing out (all actual previous discussions of great import to Kindle)! You'd think they'd have the sense to take such irrelevance to some Loose Women type forum, where they can bitch about men and geeks to their hearts content, revelling in taffeta, cakes and other stuff unrelated to eBooks and their ilk that they keep spamming the thread with.

Still, as it's not relevant to the forum, I had my say and left. No doubt I'm still being trolled and slagged off, but hey-ho, if people are too dumb to understand what Kindle Discussion Forum means, and that I'm not reading it³ because it's off-topic, more fool them! Let them expunge their venom to their hearts content - keeps them off the main thread, so everyone else can see some actual topics discussing Kindles!

[EDIT] Just had a quick squit for Blog purposes - 24+ replies since the harpies first descended... dare I look at the predictable comments....

...oh go on!

...yep, about what you would expect:
● Xym is a jealous woman with shoulder chips.
● Xym is a mysoginist.
● The Xym is not The Xym, it's just a false account specifically created to post under a false name⁴.
● Why can't talking about dresses be related to a Kindle Discussion? Just because it's a Kindle Discussion Forum doesn't mean we should only discuss Kindles⁵.
● Oooh, he must be loving us airheads lezzing it up on the forum
● He's only commented on this thread - must have a thing about dresses.

And now they've progressed on to discussing their knickers. Oooh, be a devil and wear none to the party!

Yes dear, I stand corrected. Your pants at a wedding are truly relevant to a Kindle discussion!

¹ NATURALLY, EXCLUDING THE XYM!

² SEE TWO PINTS OF LAGER AND A PACKET OF CRISPS, SERIES 3, EPISODE 6. CURIOUSLY ALSO ENTITLED DRESSES, DRESSES, DRESSES!

³ WHOA - BACK UP THERE XYM! IF YOU'RE NOT READING IT COZ IT'S OFF TOPIC, HOW DID YOU MANAGE TO COMMENT ON IT IN THE FIRST PLACE!
WELL - IN MY DEFENCE, I WAS GOING FOR THE DAY'S FREE EBOOK LINK, BUT ACCIDENTALLY HIT ONE OF THE SPAM THREADS, AND IMMEDIATELY SAW PEOPLE WERE COMPLAINING WHY PEOPLE WERE COMPLAINING ABOUT THREADS ABOUT DRESSES. I FINALLY DECIDED TO SAY WHY PEOPLE WERE COMPLAINING ABOUT IRRELEVANT THREADS, THEN BUGGERED OFF OUT OF IT! MAKE A STINK THEN LEAVE, LIKE FARTING IN A LIFT. THAT'S THE WAY TO GO!

⁴ WELL, I'M SURPRISED PEOPLE THINK THAT THE XYM IS NOT THE XYM, BUT SOMEONE PRETENDING TO BE THE XYM BY NICKING THE NAME OF THE XYM WITHOUT THE XYM'S KNOWLEDGE! THE XYM ACTUALLY IS THE XYM, YOU DUMBASS'S! THE XYM DOESN'T HIDE BEHIND FALSE ID'S! NO PSEUDONYM XYM!!

⁵ UM... YES! THAT'S WHY IT'S A KINDLE DISCUSSION FORUM, AND NOT A DRESSES FORUM, YOU THICK COW!

How much is that doggie up yer bunghole...

Palm d'or?

Palm d'visage, more like!

Oui, je suis une baguette et je t'aime le gateaux, for today it's moral outrage against them there snail-eating, wine-drinking, garlic-BO'd, immoral Parisiens!

And how has the croque-monseur scoffing frenchmen incurred the wrath of the English this time?

Why, they've only gone and photographed Middleton's mammaries!

Toff tottie titties snapped as she sunbathed with her norks out for all the world to see!

Outrage!

Even the Daily Jugs are so incensed by bare bazingas in a french mag, they've had to run a side story of...

~ Funbag Fail ~
Le Breasts de Middleton in French Mag - CONSTERNATION!
Hermione's Humps in Brit Tit Rag - WHEY-HEY!

And then there's Joe Public...

"Disgraceful! Why do these moronic individuals go out and buy a magazine they've never heard of just to see topless tarts? They should fine these magazines until they're put out of business! Honestly, it's disgusting. Bloody frogs! I run a pervy website (with exclusive pay access to nudie models in bondage), and my model's¹ blouse potatoes are never caught on camera for the oglement of perverted pervers of perverse porn... oh wait..."

I don't know - nudie billard blokes and topless tiara'd trollops, and The Sunday Spurt and HumpAHound are all up in arms!

Presumably in a well fitting top so it doesn't drop and expose their moobs as they raise their arms. Heaven Forbid some lurking pepperami with a telephoto lens captures their manbreasts on film and slaps it in Take-A-Shit magazine!

¹ AND BY MODEL, I MEAN PARTNER WITH A PENCHANT FOR CANINE CARNAL COPULATION. ALLEGEDLY.

I SHAGGED A DOG

AND I LIKED IT

THE TASTE OF A FURRY DOG'S DICK

I FUCKED A DOG

JUST TO TRY IT

I HOPE MY BOYFRIEND HAS FILMED IT

IT FELT SO WRONG

IT FELT SO RIGHT

SMEAR MY TITS IN DOG SHITE
I HUMPED A DOG AND I LOVED IT
(I LURVED IT)

AND THEY SAY I'M SO VERY WRONG!

Celibate good times....

Pi-rate!

It's no celebration...

Remind me never to remind people of annual events of a swashbucking nature!

For it appears that my interpretation of "International Talk Like A Pirate Day" is not, as I thought, a day where you talk like a pirate.

Apparently, it's a day where everyone goes and constantly reminds pretentious twats that it would have been their anniversary if they hadn't been dumped in favour of a nazi comedian several years ago. Oh woe, oh wail, oh morose mournful downcast gloomeries cast upon the enjoyment of peglegged discourse.

So, it seems that converse would go thusly:
"Arr, ye scurvy dog, fetch me a tankard of bilge water from ye galley"
"Did you just say Hey! You! You know what? It WOULD have been your anniversary today, but guess what - It's not! Ha ha! UP YOUR'S, UGLY!!!"
"No - I just asked you to get me a glass of water while you're in the kitchen"
"Great. It should be my anniversary. Thanks for that. Did I tell you it would have been my anniversary. Well, it is. Well, it would have been. And it's not. Thanks for nothing mate"
"Ummm... that should really be Shipmate on International Talk Like A Pirate Day"
"Ship...Mate? I won't mate with her ever again. Come back, COOOMMMMEE BAAACCCKKKKKK!!"

#FuckSake #ManUp #GetALife #GetAWife!

Do I give a shit? Do I buggery fuck as like! Am I sat there mooning over some harlot who slagged off with someone else? No, I keep my bumcheeks firmly ensconced within my piratanical pantaloons, and got over it. Over the dumping, that, is. Not the harlot. And not a harlot dumping in a 2 girls 1 cup makarky type scenario.

Or something.

No - it be International Talk Like A Pirate Day, and just because you be bewailin' the loss of yer tavern slattern, it don't be meanin' the rest of us scallywags can't enjoy a bit of verbose vocalisations. Git some grog down yer neck, admire a buxom serving wench's heaving treasure chest, slap that pox-ridden beauty's booty and get her to raise yer Jolly Roger, blow yer hornpipe and haul you round the keel.

So, no more timely reminders from The Xym, for I dare not mention a date in case of anniversarial depression.

Oh bugger...

I mentioned a date...

Well, whoop-de-do. A date. A time when I'm constantly reminded by everyone that I'm loathed by all and I'm all sad and alone and no-one will sleep with me, let alone go on a date with me, you say? THAT'S THE TITS, THAT IS! I'm up for that Big Boy!

I can't do anything right, can I?

[They treat me like a wicked stepmother in a fairy story no matter what I say!]

Let's get it started (hah!)...

And by started, I mean the politically incorrect recording of them there Black Eyed Peas, for once again, one finds oneself beset on all sides by gormsters, illiterati and people of such incomprehensible fucktardery that one finds oneself veritably weeping in despair! Let's Get Retarded indeed...

Take this morning. I got an error to resolve. Naturally, I cannot cite specifics, but the general gist of it was:

• I went to "the fridge" to "get some milk"
• There was a "post-it note" on the "door" saying "No milk in the fridge"
• I checked the "fridge"
• It had "been restocked with milk!"
• The problem is that the note says "No milk in the fridge", but there is. How can I "get any milk" if there's "no milk in the fridge" like the note says?

So I return the problem back to the "help"desk saying that the note doesn't prove there is "no milk", just written by someone when there was "no milk". As "milk" is actually there now, either the note can be discarded, or updated to say "fridge restocked with milk".

And what does the gormster come back with?

"Can you explain what this means that the person has to do?"

WTF?

How goddamn thick do you have to be, that you get completely flummoxed by an out of date note that has quite obviously been superseded? Jesus! Seriously - it's not rocket science! You can feckin SEE the "milk" there - and because the note says there isn't any, you still think there's no "milk" there - I actually have to explain that the physical presence of the item you want overrides the note saying there isn't any. That you can actually pick up the "milk" you require despite what the note says, and you can throw away the note or update it because YOU CAN FECKING SEE FOR YOURSELF IT'S BLOODY THERE! TAKE IT! FOR FECK SAKE - DON'T PESTER ME WITH YOUR GORMSTROSITY!!

Confused by someone noting something missing, and later it being there.

This is why so-called "Normal" folk baffle me.

Either I'm hyper-intelligent, or we employ some really thick as shit Jeremy Kyle rejects.

Or maybe it really is just me!

Take this example:

You're in charge of a very young child. Parent, nanny, babysitter - whatever. Now, you decide to take the under-5 to the park. Now, the park is quite small and very crowded. Moving items such a swings, roundabouts, slides, see-saws abound. There's a mix of young & old kids. Now, in the park, do you:

1. Dump the kid in the playground and bugger off elsewhere
2. Leave the kid to it's own devices, whilst you sit at a table elsewhere
3. Stay nearby with other parents, each keeping watch on everyone's kids, so anyone can step in if there's an accident or attempted abduction
4. Insist the council put barriers around the apparatus, so your kids can run riot and don't have to worry about checking on them in order to spend more time gossiping and texting
5. watch out for your offspring only, and simply accept you can't watch them all the time as it only takes a split second for them to disappear off, and any resultant injury is the fault of the council

Well, if, like me, you thought (3) - parent's keeping a watchful eye - YOU'RE EVIL!

Apparently, such parental vigilance is only adopted by parents who stand around laughing and pointing when a child has an accident. More so, every one of those adopting that responsible stance are irresponsible monsters running through a prism of prejudice who can't be bothered with their brood. Why, any such parent keeping an eye on their kids is just waiting for them to injure themselves, so the parents, whilst having a good laugh, can use that accident to smugly assert their superiority over the parents of the brain damaged child!

Well, bugger me!

And there was me thinking parents were SUPPOSED to be responsible and look out for their progeny!

Apparently, you're supposed to eliminate ANY POSSIBILITY of an accident in the first place. In order to prevent hazards, you need to put more hazards in - small fencing to fall over, tall fencing to run into, fencing with gates so you can still walk through into the danger zone, fencing below areas you can topple off and impale yourself on. Fence off everything in the crowded area so it's so crowded you can't even get near the equipment so that there is no possibility of injury. Then the parents can take their kids to the park, so that even if every single parent "looks away for a split second" simultaneously, there's no-where the kids can go, so the parents can let their kids roam free unsupervised without fear of injury.

I don't know how the feck I survived the 70s - what with being watched like a hawk and prevented from stupidly walking in front of moving equipment. Heck - how I even lived when we had playgrounds with concrete and the "running barrels". Jesus, how did I ever learn to cope in later life with responsible parents looking out for me and making me aware of dangers?

But, nowadays, it's not the parents job to educate or look after their offspring. The Council needs to remove any potential threat, as parents should be able to enjoy the park without having to monitor or supervise their feral brats every five minutes. And if there IS an accident, it's always someone else's fault. Preferably one where an enterprising scummy mummy can make a few thousand off've InjuryLawyers4U type gits.

Oh, sorry - did I say Scummy Mummy?

Apologies.

Once again, I have blotted my copybook and offended you again (well, it is, after all, what I'm best at!).

Clearly I meant underage kids-having-kids teen pregnant schoolgirl chavettes. On the White Lightning. With their drugged up deadbeat dads cheating on them. Shoplifting from Poundland and fencing their spoils down Chav'llThieve Gardens for crack as they prostitute their younger sister to a mandem of chavscum in the public toilets.

Parents shouldn't be responsible for watching over their spawn, my best hat!

And people wonder why we have a "Jeremy Kyle" pool of undisciplined feral louts!

But that's just me - Evil!

* Twiddles twiddly 'tashe and cackles out a Machiavellian Mwah ha ha ha ha ha ha afore twirling his cape for good measure. Doffs top hat, polishes monocle, and goes off to search for a yummy mummy to dishevel about the dress and tie to the Greater Anglian railtracks *