Posts Tagged ‘worst’

censored stamp

Well you can’t joke about rape in this day and age
Even now the audience is getting quite outraged
Though I haven’t made a joke as yet
I just said the word and you can bet
I’ve offended someone just by doing that…
It’s just one of those topics to avoid
Well at least if you want to still remain employed

No you can’t joke about rape even online
Just don’t say the word at all and you’ll be fine
Not even to your facebook friends
They’ll tell the world that you offended
Them and you’ll soon be suspended
And you will have to leave a big disgrace
Just stick to jokes about farting, dicks and race

Seems no one wants to say the word at all
So much for freedom of speech for one and all
You can joke about cancer, AIDS and war
About cripples, gays and so much more
There’s a world of offensive topics to explore
But a rape joke sends folks into a fever
And it seems you can’t paint Zuma’s genitalia either

There’s something quite wrong with the world today
Where we think by not speaking things will go away
The rape problem’s bad but no need to fret your
Pretty little face it will get better
If we just get these jokers’ resignation letters
Then we can get back to the most import cause by far
Saving rhinos by putting red horns on all our cars

I hope you guys understand the irony
About this song that questions our society
Though I say the word “rape” this is not a rape joke
So please don’t turn me into your next scape goat
I just felt this was the only way to say
That rape is wrong – but censorship’s NOT OKAY!


Why you child rack a disciprine?

I’m getting to the stage where I’m thinking about possibly maybe having the inclination towards perhaps entertaining an idea of considering having kids, but the one thing that freaks me out about having children (besides the no sleep and changing nappies, of course) is the discipline issue.

I’m worried because disciplining children doesn’t seem to be as easy as it used to be. It used to be that if your kid even so much as looked at you funny and he was on his way to the small town of Assbeaton, population 1. It really was a golden age of corporal punishment and we thought it would never end. We thought as kids ourselves that although we might not be able to in act revenge against our parents and teachers that at least we would get even on the backsides of the next generation. I know what you’re thinking “dream parent”, right?

But now there’s no corporal punishment in schools and it’s frowned upon in most homes. I don’t see what’s so bad about it. It very quickly taught me to be scared of those bigger than me and that I could physically dominate anyone weaker than me that didn’t listen to me. The system works!

I used to get hidings all the way till I was about 13 when I made the mistake of laughing while my mother tried to give me a hiding. “Ooh nooo the pain! Oooooh nooooooo the agony!” That’s when we stopped getting hidings and the psychological punishment began removing privileges like a week of no Television or a week without being allowed outside or a week without food or water.

Now you have to negotiate with your kids and try to make them understand why they are being punished and I honestly cannot believe some of the disciplinary methods I hear about these days.

Like freaking hippy / free spirits that say “We don’t like using the word NO so we don’t”. So when little Jimmy is drawing on the walls we know he’s just trying to express himself and we shouldn’t stop him from doing that.”

What about when you need to discipline him?

“We like to let him decide on his own punishment that way he will choose a punishment that fits the crime”

For example?

“Well a few weeks ago we found him ripping up the plants in our marijua…I mean herb garden and so we asked him to punish himself” He had such bad munchies that he decided his punishment was to eat as much chocolate as he could.

Really? And that’s “punishment”?

“He was so sick the entire night. He was puking all over the house and I’m sure as he saw his mom and I on our hands and knees cleaning up all his chocolatey vomit he felt really bad. Which is why last week when he was ripping up the marijua… um Basil leaves again he didn’t eat as much chocolate as last time.”

I also don’t understand people that use the “naughty stool/time out/send you to your room” method

“Whenever little Billy misbehaves we just send him to his room because that sort of simulates what it’s like in the real world when criminals are sent to prison.”

Rrrrrrrright. Because in prison every cell has a Playstation 3, stacks of toys and a Spiderman bed spread.

Sorry but little Billy’s room is nothing like prison. First of all there’s no toilet in the corner of his room, there aren’t bars on the windows and in prison they don’t call you out of your cell after 30mins for pizza to chat about what you did.

If you want him to really feel what it’s like to be in prison, the least you could do would to get him a roommate called “Bubba” or “Stabby”.

Teach him to join a gang, carve a shank out of a toothbrush and smuggle cigarettes in his ass.

Maybe if that TV series “Prison Break” is anything to guy by you should tattoo the blueprints of the prison on his back.

But if you really want your child to know what it’s like in a South African prison and how to survive teach him to fake being sick

Is that a warm front or are you just happy to see me?

This may come as a surprise to you, but I watch a lot of space movies, not because I’m a nerd or anything (I mean I AM a nerd, but that’s not the main reason). I watch them purely on a research basis (okay, that’s pretty nerdy). You see there are thousands of movies and television series about space and aliens and at least one of them must be correct in their depictions of aliens and other planets – a sort of “thousand monkeys” theory, if you will. So by knowing all the different rules at play I can increase my chance of survival.

So when we do eventually make contact with another sentient life form I’ll be able to tell which rules to follow. Are we talking the killer xenomorphs from “Aliens” or the cuddly Ewok aliens from “Star Wars” or heaven forbid the super disappointing aliens from “Contact” (worst aliens EVER) because knowing which rules to follow can mean the difference between survival and burning to death in acidic Ewok blood.

Regardless of which alien movie I’ve watched the one thing I’ve noticed to be true is that the weather and terrain on whatever strange planet you arrive on is uniform throughout the planet. You go to Hoth from Star Wars and the entire planet is frozen tundra. You go to Tatooine and its wall to wall perma-desert.  LV 426 from Aliens is an endless stormy wasteland.

Why is this? If aliens came to Earth and landed in the Himalayas they’d think the entire planet is a highly mountainous and snowy region, if they landed in the Amazon they’d think that it’s all just Jungle and monsoons and if they land in Mexico they’d think it’s all just sand and tequila.

This is why you never ever see weathermen in space movies because their jobs are completely redundant.

“Since you’re here on the Rain Forest planet expect lots of rain and jungle with brief periods of slightly less rain and jungle followed by extensive rainy jungle-ness and now sports.”


“Welcome ice planet Hoth news and now the weather… It’s going to be cold and now the sports”


“Welcome to planet Mexico weather… expect sand and tequila. Ole!”


I didn’t order any pizza, but you look legit. What smells like chloroform?

So on the weekend I decided to order pizza and chill at home because, well I like pizza and it was freezing outside. Why I am justifying my decisions to you? Where were you? You seem to know an awful lot about this Pizza story for an “innocent” bystander.

*deep breath

Okay, let’s start again. I decided to order pizza from the local pizza delivery place and after the 40 minute waiting period I received a phone call from the pizza place saying the delivery boy was outside the gate because the security guard wouldn’t let him up to my place.

Now first of all what is the point of ordering a pizza delivery to avoid going out in the cold, if you still have to go out in the cold. This was particularly strange to me since I had ordered pizza the week before and the delivery boy dropped it off at my place without any issues. What? I like pizza. I went for a run the next day. Stop judging me. I was too hungry to argue with the woman on the phone so I just ran outside to the security gate to pay for my pizza, but before I walked back I asked the security guard why the pizza boy wasn’t allowed past security.

He told me the superintendent of the complex had issued a new order saying that pizza deliveries had to be collected at the front gate. When I asked why this was he said because the superintendent felt that there was a risk of these pizza boys attacking or raping one of the other tenants.


Sure thing…

The 45kg, 16 year old, scooter driving pizza boy is going to attack and rape us.

These kids pretty much get fired for being more than a minute late where the hell are they supposed to fit in the time for some attacking and raping?

How are they even supposed to get into anyone’s apartment?

*knock knock*

“Who is it?”

Pizza delivery”

“We didn’t order any pizza”

“Well can I still come in and attack you… please hurry I have to be at my next delivery in 5 minutes”

Where did the superintendent get the idea that pizza boys are violent sexual deviants unless he watches A LOT of porn?

All of a sudden the superintendent seems way creepier than before. Thanks for ruining pizza for me too, jerk.

Shut up, you smart ass raptor. If you’re so smart why are you extinct? #evolutionburn

Sound advice, I suppose. Until something unfair actually happens to you. This was the advice I was given when I witnessed the worse kind of discrimination in the world… the type that is against me.

I had seen an advertisement for a local comedy competition and being that I was a local comedian, thought I should enter. The competition was held in a dodgy little meeting room in a paint-by-numbers hotel.

The competition seemed fairly well run with the rules being read out, the contestants and judges introduced and the criteria for assessment explained in full. The criteria included content, crowd interaction, originality, body language and use of the floor (as in the space provided – not actual use of the floor in which case levitation would be an immediate disqualification)

The contestants then drew numbers (luckily I had been attending art classes so my drawing skills were pretty good), but regrettably I drew “number 1” which meant I was up first. Once my name was called I stepped up to the stage and performed my 7 minute routine which, at least by my own admission, was stellar.

My confidence was further buoyed by the fact that the next 3 contestants were terrible. Unfunny; nervous; reading off sheets of paper; it was terrible, like watching surgery on a train wreck. So I felt that I had the contest in the bag although there was a bit of apprehension when I saw a bit of “procedural irregularities” occurring during the contest which I will mention after the result which I’m sure you’ve already guessed.

So the winners are announced and for some strange reason they said I was in second. I asked the person next to me if I had heard correctly and then started looking around for hidden cameras because this had to be one of those candid camera reality shows. Alas, nothing.

Now I’ve lost many comedy competitions in my life. I’ll chalk it down to being so ahead of my time that my comedy isn’t understood by most (when in all likelihood I’m just not that funny), but to lose when there was such damningly ridiculous bias made me want to spit.

Allow me to elaborate on those procedural irregularities. The individual who won not only was terrible, her “original” material was to quote the several types of personalities on facebook. I say “quote” as to give her the benefit of the doubt that she was going to give credit to the original authors of the material, but she probably just did that silently afterwards. That’s not even the problem because to get into what is original these days is so subjective that we’d be here for another 10000 pages and still have no resolution.

What was objectively unfair was the fact that one of the judges was her husband.

What made matters worse was… HE WAS BLIND!

Now I’m all for comedy being for everyone and that the disabled should be included, but at what point does it become patently ridiculous to be judged on criteria such as “use of the floor” and “body language” by a blind man?

It gets better… because he couldn’t see what scores he was writing, he would simply tell his wife (the contestant that won) what score to write down.

“Give Gareth a 72%” (she writes 52%)

“Give yourself a 75% (she writes 105%)

The cherry on top was that she read her entire routine… NOT THAT HER HUSBAND THE JUDGE WOULD’VE KNOWN!!!!


Life’s not fair… get over it… well I’m tired of “getting over it”

flogging a dead sarah jessica parker

Having given up drinking for little over two years, one thing that has certainly increased is my “friend stock”. This is a kind of valuation of your net worth to your friendship circle. Like the guy who always invites hot girls to the party or the guy who manages to get free tickets to parties and events. My “friend stock” has been at an all time high not only because of my role as witty raconteur and provider of facts miscellaneous, but now probably most tangibly as the designated driver.

No more so was my VIP status in the group endorsed than at the national Cheese and Wine festival held in Stellenbosch in the Western Cape were guests are met with as much free wine samples as they can stand (provided they can muster up the patience to pretend they are actually interested in the wine and not just on its intoxicating effect). There is also as much free cheese as you can carry provided you are able to lift it with a tooth pick.

Regardless after the festivities of cheese and fermented grape the grand exodus out of Stellenbosch occurs as it approaches 5pm and as would any savvy policeman would do there were plenty of roadblocks eager to punish those who had feasted all too heartily.

Being the designated driver and recalling my last drink to be approximately 2 years prior (a few slices of tiramisu at Christmas not withstanding) I felt I would get through any roadblocks without too much hassle.

I was of course correct, but I did notice an inordinate amount of people (I did stop counting after 3 to be honest though) were waiting to have blood tests/breathalysers etc. This was holding up several lanes of traffic and causing numerous delays.

The point, I guess, which unfortunately has taken over 300 words to get to, is that surely there are quicker ways of assessing someone’s sobriety. I’m not even talking about the obvious signs, like slurred speech, smelling of alcohol or vomiting on the dashboard as they are pulled over. I’m talking about quick tests policemen and women can conduct to save a lot of time and prevent delays to other drivers who may be hurrying to the next pub to avoid losing their “buzz”.

For one could the police officer not simply hold out any sort of rope or pole and simply say to the driver “I bet you can’t jump over this”. The ability to jump over the rope/pole is not even that important the fact that a drunken person would attempt to jump without any further coercion would prove their intoxication.

Similarly the officer could hold out a picture of Sarah Jessica Parker and ask “do you think she’s hot?” No sober man alive would answer in the affirmative. Quick drunk test completed.

Another quick drunk test would be to ask them to sing the lyrics to the Macarena (including dance moves) – a feat that is entirely impossible while sober.

Can you think of any other ways to speed up sobriety tests?

War... it changes people... (into helmets?)

“Bloody, brutal and life changing” they said.  “Changed the face of a generation”.  This is what I was told through film and documentaries about Nam and the 70’s. So was I excited to be going there myself? Was I nervous that I would come back a changed man, that I would be leaving my soul and innocence behind? Perhaps, except I wasn’t going to Vietnam, I was off to NAM-ibia! (An altogether different kind of war).

I arrived on Wednesday morning after catching the 6h30 flight from Johannesburg and was immediately astonished at how boring Namibia was. I’m not sure what exactly gave it away that I wasn’t headed to the Mecca of entertainment. It may have been how everyone would burst out laughing when they asked are you going for “business or pleasure”. It may have been when I was told that I had to go visit some famous sand dunes but it definitely dawned on me when we arrived to see a giant billboard at the Windhoek airport saying “YOU IN NAMIBIA” (welcome to the birthplace of grammar).

Luckily I had decided at that point to simply make up my own “wonderful facts about Namibia” (that may or may not be based on reality) because if I was stuck here I was going to at least make it interesting. The strange thing is that members of my travel party actually believed many of these facts including the following:

Did you know that Namibia has over 7000 varieties of sand?

The streets of Namibia are paved with Dragon Scales.

Namibia brought us some of the biggest fashion breakthroughs such as Camouflaged Evening Wear and the full length Paedo-coat

Believe it or not none of those are true although it would be great if they actually were. Namibia basically reminds me of the Free State in South Africa (which is not necessarily a good thing) except about 20 years ago.

Namibia invented Magic

Did you know the most poisonous variety of Chicken, the “pollo del la muerte” (chicken of death) is indigenous to Namibia

I had my first traditional meal of Mahangu (porridge) and some other things I can’t even hope to pronounce which tasted of salt and regret (and more salt). It was hot, dry and if it weren’t for the fact that I had my imaginary fact book I would probably have lost my mind.

Namibia invented the saying “just desserts” except it was originally “just deserts” which is the dictionary definition of Namibia.

Sadly my visit only lasted a day (sad in that I had plenty more facts to make up), but we were on to greener pastures (not that that’s saying much)

As I sit here at the Namibian “International” Airport getting ready to board through gate “Only” I have to say that Nam certainly did have an effect on me.

Not in the horrific way a generation of young Americans experienced it in the 70’s, but because from this day forward I have never been so proud to be a South African. So next time someone says something bad about South Africa you punch that old lady in the face and you say go to Namibia then! – Land of Sand and Dragons!