Insert Witty Title Here

What’s the one question I’m most tired of?

Are you going to be like this all day? I can’t help it. That’s who I am. Sarcasm is my defense mechanism. I keep on talking when I should stop. But what of the rest of the world? How well do you cope with the thoughts circulating around in your head? Do you feel the need to blurt everything out?

The best way that I’ve found dealing with the rambles within is to spew it all out on paper. A word-vomit secreted over the virtual page. Every now and then I have to purge all my thoughts into one nonsensical piece of writing. Lucky for you, I don’t have to be like this all day.

Here are some random thoughts that have been troubling me this month.

Party Animal — My party animal is a short-sighted beaver. Make of that what you will.

Age is just a number. It’s not only that, but it’s also a good indication as to how old you are. For the record, I’m the oldest I’ve ever been. Age is just a number is literally the dumbest statement ever made.

In Darwin terms, would I survive on Love Island? I’m comfortable being the smartest person on the island, but would brains conquer beauty? Could I manipulate my way to survival? The cavemen all died out after repeated exposure to stupidity. I believe the smart people would be the first to die. Culled by the ignorant as they fail to understand intelligent people. It’s been happening to women since time began. Men fear a clever female and burn them as witches. It’s easier for stupid to throw labels rather than understand what they’re talking about.

Imagine blowing up the world. You’re on your space station and with a single press of the giant red button, you could annihilate all existence on Planet Earth. The Death Star effect. You’d be sad at first and then think, “yeah, but there were a lot of arseholes down there.”

The worse movie I ever saw was ‘Big Business’. It remains the only film I’ve ever walked out on from the cinema. I now carry a copy of the movie on VHS wherever I go. It’s a reminder that no matter how bad my life is, at least I’m not watching this piece of crap with Bette Midler.

One of the best new words I’ve heard recently is ‘crambazzled’. An old Yorkshire (England) term for looking prematurely aged or rough from drinking/partying/a dissolute life. Try saying that after several cans of lager while pointing out the fragility of your ‘crambazzled’ existence.

No integration. No penetration. A saucy story waiting to be written starring a feminist in the late 60s.

Fuck tea fanatics. I live life on the edge. I mix Earl Grey with a regular teabag just to watch their faces drop. Nothing gives me greater pleasure than upsetting a tea nazi.

What’s wacky and square? A cube of jelly. No reasoning behind this. It just is.

*Finally, let's address that photo. What the actual fuck? Why are they leaning? Why are there plastic statues of dolphins? Why is the 2nd dolphin shitting itself? Is she making a grab at her purse? Why is the 2nd woman making like a T-Rex and how can she afford Gucci dressed like that? And why is that first dolphin looking at her arse? Send answers on a postcard to 

Reuben Salsa

Thanks for listening.