My Amazing Brush With Death

I have reached an important point in my life; I’ve had a genuinely exciting epiphany. I’ve figured out that it’s unchewed chilli peppers that make my balls ache just before I shit. This might seem like nothing to you, but it’s pretty much solved the only issue I have with my body – namely, why do my balls sometimes throb like a happy cat’s gullet before I go for a dump? It’s bothered me for years, and when I told people, they’d say “but your balls are literally miles away from your anus, that makes fuck all sense, unless you shit through your balls, you sicko”. But now I know – it’s chilli heat, not shit cancer.
Now I’ve eliminated the possibility of heroically survived shit cancer, I can really focus my concerns on learning to dance – I gots to win me that trophy! And once I’m known on the circuit as “that guy whose brave battle was an inspiration to us all”, they’re bound to let me win, just for the magazine coverage.
I beat everyone else and I won
So because they’ll fix it for me, I don’t really have to practice, which is cool because dancing is a cunt’s lark anyway. It’s just like a dumb and inefficient way of walking, for idiots. So here’s what I wanted to talk about in the first place – Chillis.
The Habanero is mainly found lying around in the Mexican desert, close to a cactus. Putting a habanero into your mouth is the equivalent of firing three magnum rounds at a faraway tree, and in terms of “ooh la la”, it’s about the same as leafing through Razzle in a graveyard. It was discovered during the pilgrimage of a Welsh priest, who came to slumber on a skateboard and was dragged to the desert by a coyote. This journey went through a Texan homeless shelter, leading to the highest ever amount of simultaneous hobo double takes, followed by the largest number of whisky bottles simultaneously thrown away.
If the Habanero is a bandido with a gun, then the Fresno is like a beautiful lady all wrapped up in a silk nighty. That is to say, fucking rubbish and alarming in a casserole. The Fresno has been served only once to royalty, in 1206 to Louis XIV. Tasting the pepper, he immediately decreed: “Wow, this is nice. Nice if you’re like a bummer cowboy or something.” Then he put bulldog clips on his nipples and dared Anne Boleyn to punch him on the knee-caps. The Fresno’s one claim to respectability is that it gives the eater temporary invisibility, but not for long enough to have a good wank – ie useless.
Some fucking mess3. SOMETHING IN A DISH
Whoa! Looks like you got a whelk in your chilli dish. And you’re not the only one – whelks are a common house pest for the chilli lover. Attracted to the icy spicy samba rhythms of the Bird’s Eye Chilli, the manager of Soho’s Pizza Express even introduced live jazz to repel the vermin. “It’s like dis,” he said, miming a whelk-suck and gesturing towards his knee. “Den – it like dis,” he continued, dropping to the floor and miming a saxophone, before embarking on an extended set-piece denoting a lingering, desolate absence of all marine life. “Hahahahahahaargh,” he continued, stretching a ball of dough over his forehead and sinking into a melancholy from which he would never recover.
Such is the fate of those who meddle with jazz, my friends. Well, I’ve just about worn myself out for this morning, so I’ll return to reviewing this German computer game where you play an ex-Nazi zombie with the power to create a blue bubble. I won’t say if it’s shit or not – you’ll just have to buy PC Zone before you buy any German Nazi zombie games where you can create a blue bubble, OK?

26 thoughts on “My Amazing Brush With Death”

  1. Does leafing through it in your local branch of Martins’ Newsagency count as buying it? And is the makeup you’re so obviously wearing on that picture real, or Photoshoppedâ„¢?
    Finally, do you not feel a little bit cheated that you know what causes shit cancer now? What else is there to learn, Log? What?

  2. This is so much better than how I thought it was going to be (ie ‘Hey, no more postings on this web page, just keep checking to remind yourself that so many things have gone really fucked now’).

  3. Log, you obviously don’t love us anymore. Don’t pretend that writing about another release of Bomberman or Ms Pacman for mobiles is taking up all of your time.
    You’re just spending your days ruining robertsdee’s DVDs aren’t you?

  4. I’ve just received rough consensual text from Log, it seems that the great ginger queen is in Vienna. Reviewing some scat based Jet Set Willy clone for some unsupported mobile handset or somesuch probably.

  5. A text from Log? I remember those. *sigh*
    Loggy just because you’re all busy and establishment now, it doesn’t exempt you from meeting me for crisps and nuts and mint sauce all in the same bag. Or answering my texts or emails, you cunt!
    I hope this finds you well. Or DOWN a well, you fucking text ignorey bastard.

  6. Vienna! That would explain his silence. I can only hope that he’s having a nice time. I was reading through my printouts of the old TVGoHome website this morning – glad I printed them out as the site seems to have been eaten by bears – and noticed that good ol’ Log contributed to it. So it seems I loved him even before I happened upon his blog and t’ing. Kismet… that’s what it is.

  7. Where IS Log anyway?
    Loggy just because you’ve gone all important and establishment, it doesn’t exempt you from meeting me for crisps and nuts and mint sauce all in the same bag. Or replying to my texts or emails, you ignorey c*nt!
    [I am asteriskingsk this because I fear electric filtration, NOT because I have a problem saying “c*nt” – it’s important to me that the world knows this].

  8. I read the book, at a friends house, and found it jolly funny too. Now, I only have my tattered collection of printouts, bound lovingly, to keep me warm and moist at night. I suppose I have no chance of getting it now, as I don’t wish to pay 100 sponds for anything – even a house – and I can’t even find Law Of The Playground in a real live bookshop. Internet it IS, then.

  9. Shirley the LotP is available in Ottakers “poubelle du bargaine” or something.
    I’m sure Log’s got a few copies lying around his flat in case of emergencies or something.
    I’m so going to post a picture of me holding both of them at once on the internet just to spite you. Like some sort of book porn request piece. Do you want me to like their spines? Do you? WELL DO YOU?
    Filthy book botherer.

  10. WH Smith, Waterstone’s and Blackwell’s have all come up empty for me, and I hate purchasing from the internet – not because I am scared of someone raping my bank accounts, or running up a bill of literally TENS of pounds on my credit cards, but because if I buy something I want to look at, fondle and generally ENJOY my item there and then. And there. And then. However, unless I come up to London and break into Log’s house, I imagine that’s what I’ll have to do. Absolute RUBBISH.
    I would like you to like their spines. Like them like a dog at a ham-bone.

  11. Sometimes when I eat aubergines, my face prickles and I don’t like it. One day I will probably die of an aubergine attack.
    Is this documented anywhere? I’m at my wit’s end.

  12. Dear gentlemens. As a scientist I feel compelled to write.
    1) You shiver when you wee to recoup the heat lost in your wee wee. it’s only a little heat, so you only do a little shiver.
    2) Of course you didn’t have up the bum cancer you twat. I work with up the bum cancer, why didn’t you ask? All the wiring and plumming for the naughty bits goes round the prostate or through it, so stuff in the bum (like a large pulsating cock for example) does affect how the rest of your rudies feel. Hang on, unchewed bits of chilli? Do you just shove em up there? Or do you just shovell food in like a big oinker?
    3) I just came back from Mexico and brought sweets back for my work chums. Here is how to make mexican sweets.- Get some shit and roll it into balls roughly 3cm diameter. Wank over them. Roll them in some dust. Cover them in chilli. Put more salt on them if your jizz is particluarly sweet. Paint them red with kids powder paint. Serve to people with a face like you just made the best sweets ever. Next time I’ll just buy fucking toblerone like eveyone else.

  13. Hmm, I like pickles.
    Is it only real men that like Gerkins?
    At my missus’ cousin’s wedding I got really drunk with the other members of the Loch Tay table (it was a scots shindig, not a ceilidh though) and each table had a large glass bowl with minature marshmallows in it. In our pissed state we believed that the table next to us (Loch Dee) were trying to beat us in finishing their marshmallows. I ate two whole bowls of the sugary filth before realising that they weren’t even trying. The poofs.
    I came up in enormous hives all over my face and back that night. I think it was a reaction to the amount of sugar in my system.


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