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Jimi played the Bingo Hall
http://20six.co.uk/john
powered by
20six.co.uk
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What's that all about?
The new 20six isn;t for me. I have moved: here Toddle pip
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Does any one out there want to re-design my site for me? for free? Go on, you know you you want to.
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Prevoisly, before the “change” (no not the menopause) I used to cobble together some pictures in Microsoft Paint then I uses to simply, without fuss, upload them for all the world to see (who can forget my Strephen Hawkings looking at a pair of tits or my Jesus eating a Cream Egg? True works of art).
It was a piece of piss.
Now with this new fangled platform, do I need a paint degree? Or do I need a super doper 25th century image programme? ‘casue everttime I try and upload another spectacular work of art I get this crazy error message:
“The maximum file size is 0. Your file has 2457600” how can a maximum be zero?
Anyway, maybe I’m becoming like those old people who thing mobile phones and I-Pods are something so futuristic aliens must of invented them, may be it’s a fear of the new.
But I used to whiz through the old site, not a problem, do what I had to do and then leave but now I find myself tottering around the site like a blind man in a strange land who’s trying to read his Braille map with bloody stumps after a pack of inbred web-footed wolves have chomped off his hands and are now feasting on his fingers.
So, image help please or the world will starved
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If it ain;t broke
I have been blogging here for 3 years and have never had any problem posting my scatalogical nonsense and my spaz like doodles.
However, today I was greeted by this fucking mess.
Where have all my pictures gone?
Why do I need a password to view my own blog?
Why have alot of my archived stuff been littered wit hsmiley faces and smart tags?
Why didn't no one add a spell check?
Why is there a woman with no legs leaping from a sand dune? It appears her feet are at the arse end of this page.
It seems like the re-design if for people who like to use code to design pretty things rather then people who just want to write, which at then end of the day this is what sites like this should be for.
Anyways, this is my 7th attempt to post this so you may never actually get it anyway and I have no idea if your going to need a password to read this.
If it ain't broke, leave it the fuck alone
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spacecraft cow
I exited the space ship at a speed that was un calculatable by any method known to man. The speed was so great that I had returned back to my craft before I had thought about leaving it in the first place. ffice ffice" />
Due to this fantastic speed I meet my Earth self as I was zooming past, I wanted to stop to say hello but a) I was travelling just so damn quick that if I stopped I would of sent shock waves around the world resulting in small earthquake in ffice:smarttags" />Coventry and b) I was in a rush.
The space craft I captained was resembled a number 37 bus. Big and red and slightly smelling of tramp piss. Don’t ask.
I moved so fast that I actually arrived before I was even conceived.
Don’t ask me how, it’s not magic, it’s science but you probably wouldn’t understand. You’re a bit thick whereas I am of superhuman intelligence. I was just born that way. Don’t be jealous. I have made four woman come at the same time. I can’t help it, it’s something I do. Anyway, I was in my spacecraft and I couldn’t remember if I was trying to land or if I had already landed and had returned back to the craft. Bending time is very confusing. Hell, if was confusing me then your brain would melt into a mushy pulp if your tried to comprehend it.
I was thirsty so I got myself a cold cold pint of milk. I went to take a sip of the cold cold beverage but accidentally pressed the button which spat the time machine back in time. We went backwards so quick by the time UI ahd raised my cold cold milk to my lip found myself to be suckling a big cows udder. We went back so fast the milk was still inside the cow.
I enjoyed sucking the udder.
I don’t think the cow appreciated it as much as me.
Anyways I need to kill the cow as it was hazardous having a 5 foot, half tone bovine breed grazing in my state of the art space craft. Plus, it was a confined space and think about it, cows have two stomachs which is twice the amount of shitty gas it can fire out. I couldn’t risk my spacecraft becoming a gas chamber so yes, I killed it and ate it.
I landed in Neasden got out and realised I ahd made a dreadful mistake.
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At work excessive drinking if heavily frowned upon, however a beer or two at lunch or some wine with a team meal is acceptable. The general rule it appears is drinking is ok as long as food is invovled.
So this lunch time I'm at my desk, I get out my dinner and can of beer and I'm sitting at my desk eating an drinking and my boss shits a red hot frisbee and next thing I know I'm at HR becasue.
Surely some form of double standards?
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If I stare long enough at her and concentrate my thoughts hard enough maybe her head will explode.fficeffice" />
Maybe,
And if it were to explode right now, right this second I would not batter a fucking eyelid.
I would gleefully watch as her hair and scalp are ripped apart and her brains fly out vertically, horizontally, diagonally, at inordinate speeds, flinging themselves far and wide, slapping against the way, splatting, like a raw red piece of supermarket shrink wrapped meat against the static fizzing fuzzing hum of her monitor.
Blood would fountain and geezer out of her ears, spraying the walls like a blank canvas attacked by Pollock and when the blood dried it would be brown like shit.
And as blood sprayed like hosepipe waters from her ears her eyes would bulge and push against their frames and slowly, by attrition, they would rocket themselves across the room like, well like rockets, rockets that can see everything, rockets with eyes, and as her eyes fly towards the wall they will focus on me laughing my little head off.
And once the head was scattered in to a million tiny pieces, and once all her membranes, atoms, molecules ideas and thoughts were distributed around the room her headless body would sit erect in her chair for a few soulless secondsand then gravity would take it’s toll and the body would lollop about and like a felled oak, fall down and crash on to her desk.
My laughter would continue for a few minutes. I would then turn off my PC, get my coat and head home.
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