Thursday, February 28, 2008

I hate to sound concieted...

…but I think I might be god. Okay I know that sounds bad, I’ll admit that. Well maybe not god, just the perfect centre to the universe. So yes that means everything and everyone is here for my benefit. All things in the universe are orbiting if not physically, metaphorically around me. All ideas, people, animals, concepts, are some how tied to me, and dependant on me for their very existence and survival.

So what is this about, well kids every now and then I think, scary thought I know. But every time I’m involved deep in my thoughts, pondering my own existence, I always come up with the theory that I could be the centre of the universe. As I’m sure you all do, well maybe not on that scale. I don’t want to claim some sort of higher intelligence, but honestly being the centre of the universe I’d have to have an I.Q of at least 90.

So you all think you might be the centre of your family, the glue that holds the unit together, me on the other hand, have some what larger delusions of grandeur. I like to think, and when I put forward the evidence I think you’ll agree, that I am the centre of the universe. Now several people already think this way, Tom Cruise does, though I must point out wrongly, no one that scientological, could ever be the centre of the universe.

But back to me, and my position, as the centre of the universe, I hate to repeat myself kids but the more times I say it the more it just sounds right. On to the evidence, every now and then you have those moments when you get a chance to use a piece of information you never have before. It makes you feel really smart that you know the exact atomic weight of honey glazed ham, or that you know how to give a Rhinoceros an erection (which I actually do kids, don’t ask you don’t want to know). But me, I get this all the time.

Almost every single week I watch some obscure show on TV, learn something fascinating, and then a few days later bang the perfect chance to slot it into the conversation. And then people look at me with that aura of jealousy and incompetence that normal people look at scientists and football commentators with. It makes me feel so very special. Now what other reason for that could there be other than the fact I’m the centre of the universe, that everything is for my sole enjoyment. Coincidence… come on kids, be realistic.

The odds that they might have just saw the same show as me, can’t be greater than the chance that I might be a god amongst men. It’s just not possible. Look at this blog and you’ll realise my unseemly greatness.

Now let’s continue, insects, bugs creepy crawlies whatever you want to call them. They hate me, every single one of them, devotes their every waking minute of their short lives to making my life a living misery. But why, when the whole universe is for my enjoyment. Which it clearly is as you can tell by the aforementioned evidence, do insects hate me? Well it’s Tom Cruise. ALL INSECTS ARE SCIENTOLOGISTS. Where is my proof, well I dislike Tom Cruise, so by proxy he hates me, ergo he sends his insect minions out to get me and make my life miserable. Obvious no.

Of course it is. All bugs as soon as they pop out of there insect mother gets handed a Polaroid of me, with the simple message, ‘Enemy’. And thus begins their mission, to annoy me and generally make my enjoyment of my universe a bit less easy. So is Tom Cruise the devil, is the question you’re asking now… well to put it simply, yes. But a more complex answer and one that wont get me sued (hopefully) is no, not quite, but he is evil, and probably wants to see me dead. He may even be in business, with the giant monkey prey mantis (yes kids I can’t just leave that alone can I).

So there you have it kids, me, the centre of the universe, could you ask for anything more. You may still be doubting, but honestly think about it, think hard… and when you have, just realise you spent that long thinking that I was the centre of the universe. What a waste of time… is never a waste of time...

Sunday, February 24, 2008


One pen, one pad, one idea. Enjoy?

So no Star Wars this week, but apparently I'm still a pervert. I thought of this in the shower, what I'm doing thinking of a naked Spongebob in the shower is my own business.

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

As seen on TV: Funniest home Idiots

Ah kids welcome back again to another instalment of my exploration of the middleclass. Well not really an exploration more of a slight probe with a stick. Just to see if the wobbly mess comes back to life. Hopefully it will, if not I’m sure there is lots of other things I can poke (why does that sound inappropriate). Any way this week we move back to the familiar territory of old. We pick up the gloves and return to the filing cabinet for a good old fashioned rummage. Yes kids this week we return to the classic ‘As Seen on TV’.

But his time kids its no advert we deal with, it’s actually the small part of TV that lurks in between the adverts. Try hard to remember kids, I’m sure if you concentrate you’ll find it in there somewhere. Yes that’s it, programs, actual shows based on actual entertainment or educational value. Remember those, before the days of network promos, adverts for phone sex and Pepsi… (I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Pepsi ad in Australia, oh well). Shows made and designed to fit around the adverts so indiscriminately it’s hard to tell where the advertising stops and the entertainment starts.

But what show is it kids that has got me riled up this time kids. Well it’s the old classic, ‘Australia’s Funniest Home Videos’. Now I know there was an American version of this show, and without to much of a stretch I’m guessing there has been a British version as well. What other countries… they don’t have the internet… France… pffft third world my friend. So Toni Pearin, Bob Saget, or Daisy Fuentes stands in front of a studio audience of small children and their owners. Whilst in the background various clips of funny pranks, goofs and foils play to whacky music and stupid sound effects.

Its all harmless fun isn’t it kids… or is it… is it, well that’s what I’m asking, is it? If you answered yes… try again. Ok the word your looking for starts with an ‘N’ and ends in an ‘O’… and its not ‘noodle’, if that’s what your guessing you need some help. It’s ‘NO’, its not harmless fun, I’ll run through a few examples. Here is funky granny dancing up a storm on top of a table, isn’t she cool, cue wacky voice over. ‘Oh kids watch me twist’ or something else so hilarious it would make Oscar Wilde weep with jealousy. And down she goes, a crash here, a boink there, and everyone’s laughing. Granny of course has sustained a mild concussion and has broken her pelvis, looks like it’s a ‘Texas tea bag’* for her.

Example two, cute little baby wanders around large animal, dangerous crevasse, or sparking electrical outlet. Now I don’t have a child, let alone a baby, but I’m pretty sure I’ve witnessed enough small children, to know there not the most robust of creations. And maybe letting your baby play near Large Doberman/Rocky Cliff Face/Home Made Tesla Coil and Pool**, isn’t the safest of things to do. Yes the whole audience is laughing, but I’m guessing the maker of the video wont when child services rocks up to take possession of the child. You’ll have you $5000 check for first prize, and little baby will be with some proper parents. So I guess it will be good for all parties involved.

The third example is my favourite, these ones always get me in that special kind of way. Insert dickhead man, I’m sorry blokes but it always is, women you may have your flaws, to numerous of which to mention… (waits for angry response). But I’ve never seen you climb a tree with a chainsaw in one hand and a beer in the other, to do some surgery on a tree. Insert stupid voice over, and then the tree comes down. Yes its all well and good has dickhead runs for cover, it’s even funnier when the chainsaw swings out of control and almost hacks the arm off the guy holding the camera. Or its not, five inches to the left and this is a snuff film, and no amount of wacky, boings, cracks, or ‘whoops there goes my beer’ (choose hilarious accent at own disposal), is going to change that.

What are we laughing at anyway, the fact that there are idiots out there who do this every weekend. You know for every funny home video on the TV, there is some git in an emergency room nursing a bleeding stump, or crushed pancreas. And then these shows reward and encourage this by handing out prizes. Let’s just hope that a few more of these people don’t make it those five inches to the left and we can remove some crap from the gene pool.

Well that’s it kids don’t forget the clicking of the humorblogs link every time you stop by. And keep the comments coming in, it is always a pleasure to hear from you.

* Sealab 2021 anyone… yes, no.
** No seriously check out Sealab 2021, it's hilarious. now with a thick gooey gene pool!

Saturday, February 16, 2008


Ok kids you know the deal, one pad, one pen, first idea, cartoon. Enjoy or not I guess its up to you.

Hmmm, second instalment and I'm already on to penis gags...
Proper post coming soon, remember clicky the humorblogs link. sells hot bread to orphans, isnt that terrible...

Sunday, February 10, 2008

Stupid questions... Whos in there?

Well kids how is the big change setting in? Have you come to grips with the new name and layout? How about the fact that I’m not actually the Pope? It is all wonderful and shocking I know, but stick with me and I’m sure it will all eventually come together in your mind. This week we launch something new, another draw in the filing cabinet. Another preposterous selection of stupidity for your perusal, hmmm that could halfway be considered alliteration, oh well, lets get on with it.

I’m sure you all have family, those that don’t go off and cry in the corner. And when you’re a part of a family, it is often tradition to get together. To reun… as it were, in a reunion… yeah that sounds about right. Maybe you get together at Christmas, or Easter, Thanks Giving for you crazy Americans out there. Or maybe you don’t need an excuse, you love your family and just want to be with them. On many occasions this is what my family does; in fact we did it a short while ago, on Australia Day. The day where we celebrate the fact we can fry meat, get drunk and play cricket in a democratic society.

Now there are several older people in my family as there are I’m sure in yours. And it would seem if my older people are anything to go by, there is one question they ask that is really quite stupid. Well not so much the question, but rather the situation in which it is asked. We all need to use the toilet, lets face it pooping is a fact of life. And at a decent sized family gathering there is more than a rough chance two people are going to need the facilities at the same time. Here is where the question comes along. Your busy doing your thing on the throne, when you hear the old faithful twist of the door knob, the intruder sees the door is locked. So the smallest room in the house must be busy. Now for normal people this is enough, ‘oh it’s busy’ so move along find a discreet bush or just wait your turn.

But for the older citizen, there comes this strange compulsion to ask who is in the room. As if it matters? As if there is a wrong answer that will cause them to break the door down and cause mad havoc to your potty time. And is there a right answer that will win me a prize. Why people, why does it matter, can’t you just accept that there is someone in there, and leave it be. It has happened to me several times, and I always make the conscious decision not to answer. Because quite frankly when you start talking to people while your blasting a dookie, the terrorists have won. And why ask in the first place, is it something to do with having grown up in the times of ‘the war’. Was there a great threat of Fascist Hun Lars lurking in the out house, or behind every corner?

Was it really that necessary that every single locked door had to be checked just in case Adolf was hiding behind it with a potato masher and a Lugar cocked and ready?

Billy: “Hmmm, I think I need to visit the little boy’s room, I hope the Hun isn’t hiding in there”
Billy’s Mum: “Well good for you Billy, you run along now and do your business… and he’s gone, I don’t see why he has to tell everyone he needs to toilet”
Billy: “Ahh, the toilet, hello toilet, let me just open this door… hack tis locked, could some foul Kraut lurk behind yonder door? Who’s there I say”
Hitler in toilet: “….. no vun”
Billy: “Oh ok then……. Wait a second if there is no one there who answered me, that’s not Hitler is it?”
Hitler: “Dam you clever English”
Billy: “What are you doing in there?”
Hitler: “I’m doing ze poo”
Billy: “No!... Keep your fascist stool out of my toilet you dirty commie”
Hitler: “Fascist”
Billy: “Oh whatever… you nearly finished?”

Was that really a common enough occurrence to make it important to ask who was behind the locked door? I don’t see how it’s a relevant question, there’s someone in there, and they are using the toilet so just move on or wait. The identity of the mystery pooee is quite insignificant, out side some sort of devilish fascist plot to ruin our facilities.

So kids that’s it, that’s the first into the file for ‘Stupid Questions’, if you have any suggestions of stupid questions send them in the form of a comment, and I’ll take a look at them. On a side note if you are feeling generous do me a favour and click on the humorblogs link below, or on the side of the page. Every click counts, even if you have clicked before. Have fun and please don’t ask questions of people on the lav. never asks whos in there.

Wednesday, February 06, 2008


And welcome back kids, short entry this time, just introducing a brand new segment. Basically once a week I'll try to post a comic. Not any ordinary comic though, but a comic so stuffed with idiocy it will offend. So repugnant to the senses there is almost no chance it will even be slightly humorous, innane and pointless is the key word here kids. Time limit five minutes one pen, one pad, first idea that comes to my head, no matter how crap. If you find this funny there is no excuse kids, you have been warned.

You were warned.

Contemplate your facial hair over at

Friday, February 01, 2008

The Deranged Phoenix Arises.

Oohhhohhhh, whoa, hold on, what is going on here kids everything is all different. What the hell is that banner? Well kids I guess I should stop pretending, it’s over, it is all done and dusted. To celebrate the second birthday of ‘The Diary’, I killed it, like someone indiscriminately steeping on a spider. The crap has hit the fan and it has all amounted to this. Actually the crap and the fan are both fine so what the hell is actually going on. Well kids ‘The Diary’ is closed, locked up tight and hidden away in a secret place most likely never to return. Its dusty covers doomed to live out their lengthy pointless lives under my bed with the rest of my crap.

It is time for a new beginning, a new name, layout, but still the same old URL. Changing it kids was simply just too much effort. Welcome to ‘The Discreet Charm of the Middleclass’. Snazzy title hey, if you don’t like it then stiff. A rebirth if you will, into a brand new form of idiocy. Like some sort of deranged phoenix rising from the ashes. You may also notice the new name of the crank that writes this little semi regular rant. Well it’s not really new; it is older than the previous name I went by. But its new to all of you, yes kids sadly for all those fans of my rather distasteful alter ego Pope Terry the 666th, he is taking an indefinite leave of absence. Chained up next to ‘The Diary’ somewhere near the back of my head I suspect. Replacing him is me… well him still, but it is really just me, without the benefit of anonymity.

So there it is the new title and layout, a new name for the author, but thankfully the same old content. Yes that’s right the most important part of the re-imagining you would think has been left out. Because I enjoy complaining to dam much kids, and finding something else to write about is far too much effort. That’s not to say there wont be some new things kids, I now have a scanner so plan on viewing some appallingly drawn cartoons.

As well as something new for you to get a grip around right now, as you know kids I’m tremendously well informed. This happens because I read the newspaper… well I don’t really. But let’s pretend I do, because this won’t work if we don’t. Letters to the editor, often filled with useful information from readers, but most of the time they are written by complete fools who believe that ‘Dr Strangelove’ was based on a true story. Take this for example.

Let’s all sit back and laugh at the person that took any amount of time out of their day to write that completely needless letter. I can only imagine how many times they must have heard that on the radio to drive them to complain, it must have been at least twice. It may be true, it maybe the correct way of phrasing that medical condition. But does anyone outside of Doctors, nurses, or previous suffers know that. More importantly does anyone outside of them care, I can quite confidently say without a doubt I don’t. I could go my whole life not knowing that, and I’m guessing I would be fine.

But having said that what am I doing using my time to point out how truly pointless this letter is, and how it makes me angry when people whine about pointless things. In fact isn’t that what I’ve been doing for the past two years. Oh well, if you don’t tell then neither will I. You can just imagine playing scrabble with that person cant you, by the end of the game the dictionary would be lodged deep in their face, because apparently ‘schwabble’ isn’t a word.

So hopefully from time to time I will be highlighting the stupidity of Australian newspaper readers, which will go further to proving my theory that people are happier and more driven when they are angry. Because lets face it, the writer of that letter didn’t have a smile on their face when they wrote that did they.

That’s it kids, ‘The Diary’ is done, and this is what your left with. If I could ask anyone that’s blogrolled me under my alter ego or under the ‘Diary of a whipping boy’ title to change it as appropriate, I’d be really grateful. As well I’m a member of, and am currently languishing down near the bottom of the rankings, so if you clicky the little link (either to the side or below this post) every time you visit I’d be a whole lot more grateful. I hope the rebirth of this little blog is to everyone’s taste, and I hope you all continue reading.

The middleclass swarm to