Monthly Archives: August 2009

And it makes all the pain hurt

Anti-Catholic guilt

Cheers, Spotify. Not only have you given me access to all the Joni Mitchell albums I already own; but now every time I sleep with someone, I hear your stupid pro-condom advert play in my head. I was brought up Catholic and as soon as I manage to repress all the repressed baggage that comes with escaping the church, I get hit with “Yeah, man, lastnight I slept with Kelly, yeah?” and I get this horrible image of a black man impregnating Kelly Osborne and pretty much all hell breaking loose.

The only upside to this is that I am becoming increasingly impotent – a direct result of that Amy MACDONALT advert playing more than once.

Thanks, Spotify. Thanks for ruining life’s pleasures for me.

Remember MySpace?

I do – or at least I remembered I have a neglected-since-2007 MySpace page when I saw this t-shirt:


Never mind the fact that Woodstock is in the public consciousness, in comemmoration of its 40th anniversary – nor that the Woodstock-Woodstock connection is very easily made – this is an obvious breach of copyright. Copyright belonging to none other than me. Sure, you can’t copyright an idea, and I never made the connection on a t-shirt; but I did express it on my goddamn forgotten, public MySpace!


ASOS I’m onto you. You’re going down like Rowntrees.

Crazy correspondence

This website rules! For example, I could imagine Kathy ditching the family with a note like this one; and this made me actually die. Actually.

I love websites like this. Crazy People is this weeks Texts From Lastnight; and is infinitely funnier than the Fail Blog. And in any case, if my Rowntrees campaign goes down the toilet, at least I know where to send the shameful evidence.


Geez a shot ae yer bike.

You know what, Natasha? You’re right. You’re fucking right. Rowntrees Randoms are a blight on the vernacular of youth. The minute big businesses or Madonna get a hold on something cutting edge, you may as well forget it like another notch on the Oxford English Dictionary’s lexical bedpost.

Not that using the word “random” was ever cutting edge – unless you define cutting edge as using the same word as an annoying substitute for a real adjective as every other thicko. And if you do, you’re too young to be reading this page. Go back to mourning Pokemon or “ironically” watching repeats of Power Rangers on whatever fucking exploitative channel owns the rights to the dead horse.

Exploitative, that’s the word I was looking for. Rowntrees should have known better. They pay research people not to be dicks. They have a cultural hegemony over our children (i.e. other people’s – I remain childless), and therefore have a responsibility not to perpetuate the misuse of what is, in fact, a damn fine word.

random (adj) lacking any definite plan or order or purpose; governed by or depending on chance “a random choice”; “bombs fell at random”; “random movements”.

Right. Rowntrees, was there no plan in your release of Rowntrees Randoms? It reeks of boardroom to me. The fact the word random has been used as not only the name, but pretty much dominates the entire ad campaign for this detestable product, suggests not a whole lot of thought went into milking this cash cow. You just got in there with bare hands and ripped those bovine nipples apart. Was the selection of the “random” shapes you’ll find in each packet actually random? Did ice cream cones and  car tyre morphs come out of the Rowntrees production line? No, that’s ridiculous. A lot of effort went into the creation of each mould – to make a limited number of glorified Fruit Pastilles in crappy shapes.

The biggest issue I have with Randoms – the biggest indicator of boardroom – is that the shapes have so obviously been through a long selection process to make them all pointlessly PC and child friendly.

Had Randoms been truly random, Rowntrees would have used all the suggested shapes from the brainstorming session – not just the “safe” ones. Don’t even lie, Rowntrees, the original ideas were dirty. You can only come up with so many “pineapple”s or “palm tree”s before you suggest something dirty like “fanny”, “swastika” or “chocolate spider”. I bet they had some killer ideas.

Had they used the dictionary definition, Henry James stream-of-consciousness Rowntrees Randoms; I wouldn’t complain. Noone would. I bet they’d sell. Natasha, I know you’re into this as much as I am. How about we start a petition to get some new, proper random Random moulds made at the Rowntrees factory?

To get you in the mood – here’s a transcript of what the Rowntrees Rrrrrrandoms(!) advert will be like once we overturn the retrograde capitalist boardroom decisions of this once-loved sweetie company:

Rowntrees Randoms television commercial.

(Some pure bint in a weirdly manufacturer-free motor pulls up to a young Alex Salmond walking down a road. Any road. Anywhere within, say, 40 miles of central London.)

Thon Wumman (in her best telephone voice): “Esscuse me?” (she holds out a piece of paper she is RRRANDOMLY holding) “Do you know where Dover Street is, please?”

Thon Man (in a noticably more working-class accent than Thon Wumman): “No problem, fishnet stockings; your best bet is to follow your roadkill cat, go right past the rubber dildo, and then you need *noise* let meh think…”

Thon Wumman (looks RRRRANDOMLY uncomfortable)

Thon Man (popping a dolled-up jelly tot for inspiration): “Yeah! Follow your anal miscarriage until you get to the used tampon and then Bob’s your needle scarred prozzie. All right, uncomfortable stiffy?”

Thon Voiceover: “Billions of random combinations in every bag. Let your random side out with new Rowntrees Tourettes.”