Friday, November 13, 2009

The Buoyancy of Turds and other refutations of cinematic time, space and memory.

It has occurred that my lengthy lay off from any kind of productivity is a direct result of my gradual transition into my new life. Yes I have left the exciting and wonderful world of advertising and have become a proud born-again student. Before you all get aboard the envy train just hear me out. It has not all been bed knobs and broomsticks (I had to add a random film reference to see if you all were paying attention). Going back to being a student is not a walk in the beautiful park that is opposite my flat. An overwhelming sense of disorientation has taken over which can be treated with a strict regimen combination of herbs and alcohol. The interesting conversation, the many first time experiences and beautiful surroundings have made it increasingly difficult for me to continue talking about my first love … the man who inspired me to get out off the proverbial rat race … yes you guessed it MD. It recently occurred me to that over the past six months I didn’t get the chance to immortalize the man in written word. I mean he deserves his legacy to be set in stone After all, you will all agree that the man had a tremendous impact on all our lives and deserves to be celebrated. So to the MD I say fuck you and good fucking riddance. Now that is done… I would like to extend my congratulations to your recent victory. Success is in the air and it smells char-grilled. Now I think the next focus should be on winning the Fitness first account in order to counter the hangover of the Wendy’s win. That way your health will find a balance and all of you don’t kick the bucket prematurely as a result of heart disease. Love the burger that deserves it, but burger love can be a finicky bitch and that love can be all consuming. As I write this I can hear your arteries clog in anticipation of all the primary research each and every one of you will undertake to ensure that you unravel the mysteries of burger love. At the end of the day you don’t want to find out that The Burger that deserves to be loved may not be that into you. Then you would run the risk of having it being made into a film with a lot of unnecessary chatter by Jennifer “I will always be typecast and never can hold down a man” Aniston. Let’s face the cruel harsh truth; nobody wants to watch that movie.
I have to come realize that my adventures in the highlands has not been well documented …my bad! So I am rectifying that situation immediately starting now. Over the past two months I have been privy to about 50-60 different cinematic experiences … I’m not quite sure about the exact number because in between I have been occupied by my other research interestes such as documenting the buoyancy of turds and wondering what compels Canadians to end sentences with Eh ( still trying to deconstruct that one). So without much further ado I give you Prank’s films you should definitely watch… at least over the course of the coming weeks.

The Chaser (South Korea) – Ever since the Vengeance trilogy by Park Chan- Woo (I’m never sure where the hyphen is suppose to go) the friendlier of the Koreans have been churning out fantastic fucking films, brutal, viciously funny and hyper-violent. This one is no exception. A pimp who used to be a cop finds one of his girls has gone missing, kidnapped by a killer and he has 12 hours to find her. What makes this film even better is that IT’S A TRUE STORY. How fucking cool is that?

Taegukgi (Brotherhood) – Yes another film from the Non- Jong IL Koreans about the Korean War. Imagine a war film like the first 20 minutes of Saving Private Ryan but over the course of a two and a half hour epic. Plus another big issue is solved here… you can actually tell the two main characters apart. Not being able to tell who is who has always been a problem that has plagued films from the Far and South East of the Asian continent.

Battle Royale (Japan) – This film just gave me so many great ideas, I think we should send a draft resolution to the UN to instate this programme across the world. Basically it’s about a teacher taking the worst fucking kids in schools all across Japan to a deserted island where they all have to fight to the death and in the timeless wisdom of the Highlanders … there can be only one. I know what you are all thinking …that concept can be applied to a lot of different groups… clients, management, taxi drivers, politicians, anyone who supports Manchester United and whoever else the shoo fits.

La Jetee – Film by Chris Marker, the inspiration for Gilliam’s 12 Monkeys. It can be found on Youtube. It’s 27 mins and the entire film is composed of photographs.

Johnny Mad Dog – Best film on Africa I have ever seen … fucking intense. It’s about Child Soldiers in an unnamed African country (Liberia). After this film you all will want to come up with a really cool child soldier name for yourselves. Mine is Charlie Camel Spit.

That’s it for now, check out The Dead Weather … Jack White’s new super group; he plays the drums and Alison “I want her to be the mother of at least some of my children” Mossheart sings. Till we meet again… remember the viscosity of the whiskey soaked urine is much thinner than beer soaked urine.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Bourne Idol

Denizens, is it me or has the world dropped some potent LSD and is having a really bad trip. No this is not about the wonderful dedicated senior management at AIG getting their well deserved bonuses. Though in all fairness 9 out of 10 of them have decided to give them back, the nobility of this gesture brings rain from my eyes…wait… what was that? I’m just getting an update… this just in, 9 out of the 10 AIG Big Wigs succumbed to pressure from the humongous public outcry? That doesn’t seem very noble at all? I am shocked I tell you, shocked!

Recently I read an article on how the CIA is advertising for Spooks! At first I must admit that I didn’t have the necessary vision to be able to appreciate this brilliant paradigm shift in recruitment methodology. I mean think about it… a very public recruitment venture for a very secret profession however upon further reflection I have realized the potential for this foray into main stream media. No more will the hallowed halls of Ivy League institutions monopolize the community for breeding America’s intelligentsia, Uncle Sam wants you! All of you who read newspapers at least! But here is my question, why stop there? Let’s be honest here the world is not doing too well financially, America is really struggling through no fault of their own , two wars, and trying to provide mortgages for every single person in American can take its toll on even the sturdiest of financial infrastructure. So I have a proposal whereby the burden of recruiting new spooks does not crush the American taxpayer.

So here is my proposal ….

Why stop at traditional ATL advertising for Spook recruitment? If you want to win the War on Terror and put American Intelligence (no pun intended?) close to the pinnacle of Mossad success then they need to bring their A game. Yes, you’ve guessed it …. A Spooks recruitment reality show! Pups and Kittens I present to you…

Bourne Idol

The premise would be quite similar in vein to the American Idol + Big Brother + Survivor but replace tone deaf pop tarts, quarelling house mates and insect eating island inhabitants with potential Jason Bournesque spooks. The aim of the show would be to find out who will be the next real life Jason Bourne as voted by the American public. The TV ad revenues itself could fund a war with Iran and clandestine operations in a small, unamed ( Venezuela) South American country. It would be an integrated marketing communications campaign that would be the template for Creative Circus freaks for decades to come. Auditions would be held all around the country in front of a panel of judges comprising of Jennifer Garner (played Sidney Bristow on hit TV show Alias), Matt Damon ( Jason Bourne of course! ) and we need a stuffy British Judge who will shatter the dreams and hopes of possible Bourne Idols everywhere Dame Judi Dench ( M , yes James Bond’s boss herself) we tried to get Simon Cowell to judge but he was afraid that he might be found lying in a pool of blood with his testicles in his mouth, he didn’t want to risk it.

The Audition

Basically the possible candidates would have to of course tell our elite panel why they should be the next Bourne Idol. The audition would be quite simple: They would have to disarm a “terrorist” and they would be evaluated on speed, technique and innovativeness. If 2 of the three judges agree then they would go through to “The Farm”.

The Farm

Once the field of participants has been narrowed down then they will all be moved to “The Farm” the CIA training center outside Langley, Virginia and divided into two units, where there will have to go through a series of weekly challenges ranging from intelligence gathering, seduction, arms handling, infiltration and extraction, hand to hand combat and withstanding of Torture. They will all live in the barracks together while the world over watches the participant induced "Cold War" unfold. The American populace would then vote for their favorite candidate. The bottom two would participate in a knife fight to the death.

The “For your eyes only” Final Mission

For the remaining two contestants they would have to embark on a “For your eyes only” mission where there would need to infiltrate the nuclear program in Tehran and determine once in for all whether they are harnessing it for Nuclear Weapons or not. Whoever makes it out alive, or whoever dies last will be honored as America’s Bourne Idol with a star on the wall at CIA headquarters.

This post will self-destruct in T minus 10 seconds.

Monday, March 30, 2009

Creative spunk...everywhere but here

Hi there,

Its been a while but I doubt you noticed.

Baby C’meer is doing well. He seems to be moving on quite well. Still asexual but we love and nurture him like he was our own.

Anyway, this is quite a gentle return and not such a vitriolic diatribe as I imagined it would be.
I’d like to talk about something a lot of people here claim to be or believe exists here; creativity. There is plenty I'm sure. In advertising and so on even if its plagurized or people are trying too hard it exists to an extent but its the kind shit that I've already seen elsewhere in the world....too late.

I have my doubts about creativity and this place. Sad but true; this city is a far-flung breeding ground for nothing in particular. This might sound harsh but not only is the urban planning contrived, even the very thought of a creative spark is a fluffy dream in these parts.

Ya’ know, this might all just be harmful negativity but this town just isn’t built on genuine foundations. Some former jockey was going on about how grass was grown in the desert this weekend because of the Dubai World Cup and how amazing a feat that is. Ok. That is great but it still isn’t real is it? I mean if you hosed a bit of sand with some grass seeds on it, it still wouldn’t grow would it? You’d have to get some horse to shit on it before it even considered rearing its green tips above ground.

“Ummm, no thanks its too hot here…how about New Zealand?”

“NO! You have to grow here!”

Poor old grass seeds. But here is the thing. In an established city which wasn’t injected with growth hormone you have a city that has flourished through history, turmoil and some sort of evolution, which just hasn’t been the case here. It is still a baby and credit to the "visionaries" who created it but it still isn’t real and anyway, I did it first albeit when I was 12 and I was playing Sim City.

So there I am thinking ‘You know what? Give it a chance.” So Coldplay have come to town and everyone has been getting a bit giddy about it. But that is just the thing isn’t it? Everyone gets giddy about the one band that comes here. Literally, they are the only band of any genuine prowess that has come in its prime apart from Muse. Now I’m not a Coldplay fan because they are the ultimate corporate cock suckers but I understand why people are. Catchy, melodic 'Wonderwall' blueprint tunes that get everyone all emotional and reaching for their anti-depressant pills. However, could that level of talent or creativity be nurtured here. Nope. Sorry, not in a million fuckin’ years.

So I give it another chance. There are "bands" floating about here...anyway, not that I've been told they were good but their name has been mentioned so I thought 'Go on then. Let's have a listen'. Like Abri (Bob Marley is dead by the way, lads), Beat Antenna were essentially born in these arid lands. Didn’t think much of either of them but the latter without hearing them because I’ve gotten so disallusioned with anything here. But still, since people were harping on about them I thought I’ll give ‘em a listen.

Good for those lads. Seriously. At least they’ve had a go and it isn’t their fault that they’re shite because at the end of the day what have they had to inspire them? Supermarkets, shopping malls, girlfriends, the internet? Not the kind of gubbins that is going to change my life is it, really? Even if the lyrics were abstract they are far from going to gain a reaction close to "Woahh, hang on" in a place like this. People go to work, shop and get drunk here. Edgy shit, mannnnn. Yeah, far from it. With that kind of audience and that kind of band, the music 'scene' is likely to go nowhere fast.

Creativity, music, poetry, film has often thrived in adversity or through genuine inspiration. The Stones took it upon themselves to evolve Rhythm & Blues from its black roots into something quite phenomenal. Ok, they’re washed up and useless now but they had a breeding ground in which to create something amazing. They were middle-class and they did it. Not to say that you have to be working-class but imagine that so much real perspective on life and society has come from bands and individuals that were faced with the hardships of day-to-day living but still had the hope to produce absolute beauty or lyrics and poetry that were unmatched.

You can’t even walk the streets here and be inspired. In most cities across the world you could take a stroll and go ‘ohhhh look at that lovely flower or that weathered building’ and there you go, it’s the inspiration for your day. You couldn't have street artists here either...they'd melt.

You have to look for 'it' in your head and if all you’ve been doing is driving or shopping or any of the adventurous malarky you could get up to here then you’re screwed aren’t you? I doubt a song called ‘I’m doing my nails and breaking up with my boyfriend’ is going to make people sit-up.

Maybe it is just a sad indictment on modern society because there isn’t much out there that does make you want to start a revolution or be part of a movement. ‘Emos’ were the last sort of thing and if any of my kids like C'meer participated I'd kick him out of the Riding household.

"What's that fringe for? And why are you bleeding? Here put a plaster on it and watch Cartoon Network you little fucker."

The Arctic Monkeys got kids all excited in the UK but it hasn’t lasted long enough to really impact youth culture beyond fashion. Maybe its all fragmented because of MTV and the internet but its going to be a long while before we have life changing events because of the arts around us.

Maybe in the future this’ll be a place where I could rest my head in the knowledge that I could trust someone to touch my soul with their music, but I really doubt this place will spawn anything more than a ‘Meh’ from my vocal chords. Or maybe I’m just too harsh. Either way, maybe all these bands here will do me a favour and stop wasting my 5 minutes that could’ve been better spent cutting my nails.

Bye now!

Sunday, March 15, 2009

Much Ado About Nothing

It has been about 2 months since the last rant and you would think that with so much lead time we would have been working on our magnum opus but in truth we have been indifferent and blasé. So in order to get back into the swing of things I am basically going to practice random ranting, so try and keep up:

Golden Girls Gone Wild
Nightmares during these times of credit recession have been reinvigorated with renewed potency. Freddie Kruger’s claws have been replaced by two large pink slips that he smacks you around with. Our default nightmares are frightful with chilling vengeance, so now not only are you naked in front of everyone you know but you are getting fired in the nude. Or when you are falling your parachute has been replaced by the pink slip that looms over your head. Or the worst of all is that you are involved in an orgy with the cast of the Golden Girls who are wearing lingerie made out of pink slips… I’ll give you a minute to get that image out of your head.

Obama is bustin’ a cap in the recession’s ass
Barack Obama made history …an African American as the most powerful man in the world; I don’t think that people have truly grasped the meaning of this historic event. His election to office, will kick-start a chain-reaction that will revive a global economy in the doldrums. Observe…Vendors of Fried Chicken and Malt Liquor will see an increased spike in sales of cholesterolic proportions due to the subsidies provided by the Obama administration. In order to meet this demand a lot more American jobs will be created because outsourcing to India won’t be a feasible option, the American public wants their chicken fried… not curried. Imagine a bucket of curried chicken… that is an ecological disaster waiting to explode. Pharamceutical companies will see a surge in sales of medicines relating to Cholesterol, Heart disease and Diabetes just to name a few, HMO packages will change in order meet the need of the ailing public. The decline in Public Health will provide an opportunity for America’s healthy lifestyle industry to tone and tighten the American people’s sagging health and it goes on and on.

However before all this Mr Obama is attending to a small matter of Global importance, nope its not the two ongoing wars, its not the increasing tension between Israel and Palestine ( those two should just fuck and get that shit over with), its not the War on Terror… its actually to declassify “Freedom Fries” as “French Fries” again. Word on Capitol Hill is that Secretary of State Hillary Clinton is in Paris as we speak to give Fries back to the French. The loss of fries hit France hard and emasculated the French leadership. This victory will increase goodwill between the two adversarial superpowers; more importantly will get Mr Sarkozy-Bruni back in the good graces of the French public and most importantly in between Carla Bruni’s legs.

Have your cake but do you want to eat it at all?

It gives me great pleasure to announce that CMeer our asexual mascot has actually managed to grow a pair; well at least he has started growing a pair. Recently there was a day of birth celebration at his office (believe it or not CMeer has a legitimate job, I know!) and CMeer’s road is always paved with good intentions he offered some of Coco’s finest Chocolate Triple Layer Cake (Shameless plug here!) to his colleague Aloof. But Aloof being the health nut whose hips don’t lie, refused politely. Actually this is a third hand account of what transpired:

CMeer (sounding like an Autistic Elmo) to Aloof: Would you like some cake?
Aloof: No, thanks I am not very hungry.
CMeer (still sounding like an Autistic Elmo): Are you sure? It’s reaaal good!
Aloof: I’m alright thanks, I don’t want any.
CMeer (yup, you guessed it Autistic Elmo all the way): Not even if it smeared it all over my body?


Yes I would like a slice of the Inappropriate Cake with the Sexual Harassment Icing please!

I know what you are thinking but I couldn’t even make this up if I tried. Next time I’ll talk to you through CMeer’s voyeuristic interests.

BlaBlah – Super Intern

Before I leave to you to the amorous rendezvous you have planned with the cast of Golden Girls in your head I would like to talk about our Intern - BlaBlah. This very definition of jail bait is unique in all respects of the word. Having been an intern myself I am a great sympathizer of their condition, not stupidity but of the boredom that leads them to countless questions on the merits of working at all. However this particular specimen of exponential intelligence has taken the cake (not the one smeared over CMeer’s disproportionate body). Keep in mind that she is the future; it gives me a sense of comfort that our future is in safe, delicate hands. An example of her brilliance:

My colleague sequestered her services to send out material to two people. He gave her both addresses one in Dubai and the other recipient was in Egypt. So BlaBlah, grateful for the work started working on this most tedious of projects with zeal and unwavering dedication after a couple of minutes she shows my colleague the envelope she had so arduously been filling out… looking at it for a couple of seconds my colleague looks at her puzzled and goes

“Why have you put both addresses on the same envelope?”

I bid thee farewell, next time a profile on craftiest member of JWT, Frodo – Inch High Advertising Guy!

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Where the fuck are they now ?

E! is our one stop entertainment information hub that keeps us up to date with the glitzy world of Celebritannia. They take us through harrowing true Hollywood stories saturated with sex, drugs, betrayal, hardship, addiction, violence, fame and glory of all of our favorite famous thespians and stars. That is discriminatory behavior, in short it’s Hollywood apartheid. You look confused; ok they are not being diligent enough! They are only focusing on our “favorite” and “famous” stars, the spotlight whores, what about the hundreds of thousands of actors whose shattered dreams and unfulfilled ambitions served as the stage for all these Celebritish cads to bask in unadulterated adulation and glory. What about them? Well now they have a voice, we are now the voice for the voiceless, the diaphragm for the condomless and the tampon for the padless, get ready to soak this is all in.

Where the fuck they are now?

Unlike E! We are focusing on the ones that matter, unfortunately the information on these fine thespians is not as comprehensive because of their lack of evident fame so a lot of this is speculative but at least we are commemorating their achievements and taking 5 minutes to wonder where the fuck they are now.

Today we are wondering where the fuck Slimer is?

Slimer was born in a Springfield Nuclear plant in 1975, during the heyday of Zepplin’s domination of the airwaves. He was born into a Pagan family, his father was the first Uranium rod created in that plant and his mother was a free spirited cafeteria lime jelly. The minute they connected there was a reaction of nuclear proportions.

Early Years
The first 6 years of Slimer’s childhood were difficult. He was constantly poked, prodded and experimented on, it is this definitive period that paved his path to eventual stardom. The constant attention he received during his youth made him realize how special he really was. He left home in the spring of 1980 to a place that accepted and celebrated his uniqueness, he went to Hollywood.

The Hollywood Years – Who you gonna call?

Slimer didn’t have to wait long for his star to shine; he was at LA’s famous Troubadour one night scraping of Jimmy Page’s DNA off the floor when he met two young actors who were knocking back the slippery nipples. After a quick conversation, the two young actors Bill Murray and Harold Ramis were convinced that Slimer was born to play the role of their ghostly sidekick in Ivan Reitman’s now classic film Ghostbusters. Ivan didn’t need much convincing and the rest is history.

Slime is born
The huge success of the Ghostbusters franchise instantly sludged Slimer into international stardom. He was at every party, every gallery opening, basically at every event to be seen. Slimer had slimed his way to the top and had slimed the big time. He was the slime of the town; it didn’t get much better than this. He epitomized the rock and roll life and held his own against the very best of him. He was surrounded by horny viscous liquids that wanted to dissolve in him, fire extinguisher foam wanted to party with him and sludge wanted to be him.
Eventually Slimer’s emulation of a Keith Moonesque lifestyle caught up with him and one rainy night outside a New York club Slimer was involved in a mud sling with Stay Puft. The story goes that Stay Puft was a frequent user of toasted marshmallows; in his intoxicated state he started mucking around with Slimer’s girlfriend at the time Mire. Slimer was in no mood to be mucked around with and went after Stay Puft. They glopped outside the club and it was on that fateful night that everything Slimer had worked for and he himself literally oozed down the drain.
No one has seen hair or slime of this brilliant method actor who embodied every aspect of the character he played. Rumors surfaced a few moons ago that he was back in Hollywood and was moonlighting as an understudy to the versatile Silicon, whose extensive work in breast implants had made him peak early in a notoriously fickle town. They say that Slimer has enjoyed miniscule success and has had a bit part in some B cups and once was commissioned to do two sets of C cups but none of this can be confirmed.

Of course all these kinds of rumors ooze out of Hollywood on a daily basis. This is just one theory. If you have any idea or can speculate about the possible whereabouts of this lovable gooball then please let me know. I will collect, collate and compile the theories and send them across to Bill Murray. It would be great to see Slimer in the new Ghostbusters 3 film and regain his past glory. After all we owe it to a whole generation of mutants who have been deprived of the brilliance that is Slimer otherwise it truly would be a gelled waste.

The Almost Fall of Half-Man

Dear Congregation,

It has been a while. And what!?

Let’s begin….

‘C’meer’, for the sake of anonymity, is a young man delving into the reaches of the corporate world. He often resembles a child in a sweet shop asking the man behind the counter to feed him through a hose pipe and then refusing of fear of suffocation. He has a hunger that lies within him, a keenness for life and work that is positive and healthy, yet an undeniable fear of the unknown that prevents him from venturing beyond the limitations of his disciplined corporeal form.

He is a conscientious and clearly well-raised child yet still braving the traverse through puberty even though his balls should have dropped 8 years ago.

Well, he walks like he has four nuts, a bit like John Wayne with a comedy Jim Henson puppet voice on Helium. Perhaps, only 50 per cent of his hairless testicles need to drop before he starts resembling a homosapien in all its glory but it would seem there is still plenty of time and experience before we are drenched in C’meer’s adulthood.

But far from wanting to scratch his personality to shreds, I quite envy this boy. Innocent and pure as a boy could be, he seems as gentle as a teddy bear surrounded by a group of bunny rabbits and kittens smoking pot in a fairytale woodland.

He seems to care when it is necessary and he is responsible in his family dealings. A good boy.

All of these traits led me to believe he was asexual - as though the idea of wetting his raw manhood would bring him to tears and fears of ritual ramifications like burning genitalia in a public, village gathering in Northern India.

A few months ago he wouldn’t have uttered a misogynistic word against the tender sex. He would probably treat them to a tour of his ‘Star Wars’ toy collection if he ever got beyond the barrier of speaking to something that seems so unfamiliar to his sheltered eyes. The idea of ‘C’meer’ and sex was just unthinkable.

And then tragedy struck. Now we won’t go into what happened but this is what gets me, right. We all go through a right of passage to different degrees that shape our personalities whether that is being held in a concentration camp or going through a series of miserable relationships. But what is it about man – the male - that forces them to revert to carnal, Neanderthal pleasures in the face of adversity.

It seems to be a reversion to type whenever adversity strikes. When a man has been scathed down in a passionate love affair and told he is not wanted anymore, the first thing he’ll aim for is brief sexual liaisons in order to somehow emit any pain within him through his genitalia. There’s even a syndrome called the ‘crank’ where men still fresh in the pain of failed love, masturbate profusely over their former lover, while simultaneously crying.

Even in prison, man will go as far as to have sex with another man, with the alpha dog referred to as the male and the recipient considered the female. Is it just me but in any other situation wouldn’t that be considered homosexual or a slight on their masculinity? But in the condition of imprisonment it is considered manly and a demonstration of heterosexual dominance!

Fuck me! Even if you asked Terry Waite or John McCain or any other bloke who was released from captivity what the first thing they were going to do was when they got home, do you honestly believe that they’d be telling the truth by saying “Yeah, I’m going to have a pint of beer with my mates” or “I’m going to have a goodnight’s sleep”. Are they bollocks! First thing he would be caught up in is siphoning out the white spirits from burning graveyard of his loins.

“But you’ve been gone 15 years darling and your tea is waiting downstairs for you?”. “Yes, alright love! I’ll be five minutes more in here.”…as he chops his way through imaginations of anything from Goats to Shetland ponies.

So the whole point of this is that ‘C’meer’ in the light of his own personal tragedy has decided that someone is going to get it. I’ve even got suspicions that if you gave him a loaded cock and a naked woman, he still wouldn’t know where to put it.

BUT has that stopped C’meer? Oooooohhh, fucking, no! The boy is a rampant, sexual, deviant talking about slapping women before he even tries to engage in any relations with them.

And guess who the recipient of such unwarranted attention could possibly be? Yup, regular blog character, Bouda happens to be C’meer’s main target. There was a point earlier this week, where he had studied what she was wearing and had still decided that rather than manipulate that situation, he would like to slap her across the face before forcing her into some sort of sexual submission – potentially forcing her to play a cat in his mysterious role play world, where he would be a slightly over zealous Jerry to Bouda’s Tom.

Is it messed up? Quite possibly but it’s the way it devolves I’m afraid. Man in his weakness can be formulised as such: Man + Adversity = Sex.

Why? I wish I knew but even gentle, huggy bear C’meer – innocent quasi prophet of the agency has turned into the kind of prowling stalker that was unthinkable 6 months ago.

So listen birds – next time you think about dumping your boyfriends – think about what the poor fucker is going to be up to once you’ve flown. Even the good ones go bad.

Welcome to the world C’meer.