Rhymes With a Little Bit of Reason

Hey, Sickbaggers.

While I'm in a reflective mood, here are some poems what I have done writted. I hope you like!


Drunk on the Job


God must have been really drunk
On the day that He made me.
It would explain
Why I was made
so imperfectly.




Ups and Downs

There are three types of people, all in all,
There are those who rise, and those who fall.
Then there are those who don't move in the least,
Or as we like to call them: deceased.


Dead in Both Directions

I took a bullet for my darling,
Not long after we had split.
People thought that I was mad
But I wouldn't hear of it.
So what if she had left me,
So what if it tore me apart,
I'd have rather died there in her arms,
Then to have died inside her heart.


A Story, Just

Said the leopard to the shepherd, 'Where are your sheep today?'
Said the shepherd to the leopard, 'I really cannot say.'
Said the leopard to the shepherd, 'Have you lost them all?'
Said the shepherd to the leopard, 'No, I fear you'll eat them all.'
Said the leopard to the shepherd, 'You've got me, sir - well done!'
Then the shepherd shot the leopard with his great big gun.

The moral of this story folks, is animals are true,
But no one knows exactly what a man will really do.


Public Service Announcement

There is some information I must impart
When it comes to taking care of your heart.
Stop smoking, and avoid fatty foods,
Try to reduce your intake of booze.
And falling in love should not be dared,
For the damage it does can't be repaired.


What's In A Name?

The Duke of Wellington got the Wellington,
Leon Theremin got the theremin.
Laszlo Biro got the pen he had been owed,
While Samuel Morse got his very own code.
George Ferris got given a new Ferris wheel
But MC Hammer?
Got a record deal.


Go Bye-Bye

'I'm going now sweetheart,
'I'm going to go out of my mind.
Do not worry,
it shan't take long',
I said to the imaginary wife
I left behind.


Gifted

She liked the gift of flowers,
She liked the gift of chocs,
She liked the gift of earrings,
Wrapped up in a gift-box.

One day I gave her a gift,
I thought was really sweet
I gave her all of my love,
She asked for the receipt.


- Fanton.

Virtual Wordsack: One

Welcome, dear readers!

Having seen the Sickbag become something of a repository for meandering posts about nothing of any interest lately, I thought it was high time I forced this blog back on track, and restored it to its rightful position as the best place on the internet to find the very finest writing imaginable.

To this end, may I welcome you to a new, regular feature on the Sickbag, which I have called 'Digital Sickbag's Virtual Wordsack' (henceforth known as DSVW, which I admit does sound like a car-simulator for Nintendo's current handheld console of choice).

DSVW will feature some of my own personal poetry, created by my own hands and brain, and shared with you, The Internet. It's about time we had some real culture here, wouldn't you agree?

So here for your enjoyment I present my verse. I hope you enjoy. It.

Love Machine

My pistons are pumping
My gears are turning fast
I'm ready for humping
Inspection I have passed.

My motor is turning
My nuts and bolts are tight
My furnace is burning
I'll be running all night

My crankshaft is cranking
My engine purrs inside
Get ready for spanking
-Oh!
My battery has died.

Oh no!
Now I'm leaking oil
See it drip onto the floor
Girl please don't recoil...

This never happened before.


Splish Splash On My Moustache


Splish Splash, Splish Splash,
Gotta go, really must dash,
Splish Splash, Splish Splash,
There's rain on my moustache.

Aw no look at that it's rainin' down on me,
Coming down hard like an upside-down sea.
This has ruined my day, robbed it of its fizz,
It's like God pulled down his pants and took a mighty whizz.

Splish Splash, Splish Splash,
Gotta go, really must dash,
Splish Splash, Splish Splash,
There's rain on my moustache.

The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain,
Well I took a plane to Spain during Juan Carlos' reign
And do you know what I saw when I got there?
Everywhere was rained upon, it all got its share.

Splish Splash, Splish Splash,
Gotta go, really must dash,
Splish Splash, Splish Splash,
There's rain on my moustache.

I guess what I'm saying is rain will always get you wet,
I know that's kinda obvious but just don't you forget.
The real reason why the rain has made me so dismayed
Is that its pissed upon my perfectly-planned parade.


Donut

I really don't understand your dislike of the donut
Some people share your views but I simply do not
Why is it that you hate donuts so, what gets you in this knot?
You can tell me honey, let me in your doo-dah nut.

Why do you despise this tasty treat from the bakery?
Did it cheat on you, was it bigamy?
I'm sorry that wasn't very big of me
But I cannot comprehend your hate of this delicacy.

What about the ones with the tasty chocolate icing?
Surely those donuts have got to be somewhat enticing?
Jam donuts I always find so appetising
I really cannot see what it is that you are despising.

Were you bullied by donuts when you were at school?
Did they pick on you and make you look a fool?
'Cos that kind of behaviour is really not cool,
But to take it out on all donuts is just plain cruel.

I'm sorry to go on, girl, but it just shows how much I care,
I hate to see these donuts driving you so very spare,
If you really don't want one then I guess that that's fair,
If you would much prefer, I'll get you an éclair.


To Bille



Oh Billie, Billie, Billie,
Can't you see what you're doing
To my willy, willy, willy?

When I noticed you,
on Doctor Who
You looked so cute I wanted to
Doctor You
We'd fly off in that box of blue,
just like the
Doctor'd do,
We'd find a lonely planet and there we'd screw
I'd really like to
Doggy you.
Yeah!

Now you play a ho
on that TV show
But you're beautiful so
you ain't no ho
I can't believe yo'
would lower yourself so.
But if the rates were reasonable
I'd still give you a go
yeah.

Oh Billie, Billie, Billie,
Can't you see what you're doing
To my willy, willy, willy?

I thank you.

- Fanton.

The Superheroes That Hollywood Forgot

As The Dark Knight flaps onto cinema screens worldwide, during an already superhero-packed year (what with Iron Man, The Incredible Hulk, Hancock and Hellboy II having all hit the big screen), it looks as if Hollywood's love affair with comic looks stronger than ever.

And with The Watchmen, Captain America, Wolverine, The Punisher, Thor and The Avengers all waiting on the sidelines for the next few years, Hollywood seems in no hurry to give up on converting colourful caped crusaders to motion-picture marvels.

But superheroes are a finite resource, and it can only be a matter of time before Hollywood plunders the super-powered well dry, and run out of costumed characters to franchise.

Luckily, Digital Sickbag is on hand to alert Mr. Hollywood to a few of the world's lesser-known heroes, which we feel are ripe for the cinematic treatment.


Bananaman: When mild-mannered schoolboy Eric Wimp eats a banana, an astounding transformation occurs - he turns into the lantern-jawed crime-fighter Bananaman.

Having been a mainstay of British comics for the past twenty-five odd years, Bananaman also became the star of a short-lived animated series in the eighties, but so far has not made the leap to the big screen.

We feel the adventures of the utterly useless, Banana-powered superhero and his nutty nemeses Appleman, General Blight and Doctor Gloom would be the perfect tonic to the 'gritty' and 'realistic' comic-fare of late. It might even give the British comics industry a much needed shot in the arm, unless they balls it up like they did with the god-awful Judge Dredd.

Plus, banana sales would sky-rocket.



The Impossibles: During their highly prolific 60s heyday, Hanna-Barbera churned out an awful lot of cartoons, some of which were pure poop.

The Impossibles was one such show, follwoing the escapades of three kids (who played in a band by day) who were also superheroes, and slightly gash ones at that. You had The Coil (blessed with spring-like limbs, and not adept at birth-control as you might suspect), Fluid Man (who could turn into, well...fluid) and Multi Man, who could replicate himself many times over.

The Impossibles battled equally crap villains, such as The Bubbler (preferred weapon of choice: indestructible bubbles), Beamatron (shot lasers from his hands) and the Perilous Paper Man, who could transform into paper and who boasted of 'complete mastery over all office equipment'.

Despite being toss, if Hollywood had to really scrape the bottom of the barrel for fresh superheroics, I suppose they could turn The Impossibles into some kind of superhero parody, or something. But then, Batman and Robin already beat them to it, I suppose.



SuperTed: The star of his very own cartoon in the 1980s, SuperTed must rank as one of the most bizarre shows ever created.

SuperTed begins life as a discarded teddy bear, ejected from the toy factory for being defective. For reasons not quite made clear, a spotty alien (called Spotty, cleverly) takes pity on the discarded bear, and takes him to see Mother Nature, who gives him life, and special powers. For some equally unfathomable reason.

From there on, SuperTed takes to fighting crime, but his line-up of villains made even less sense, featuring as they did a ruthless cowboy, a fat dope and a really, really camp skeleton. It really was bonkers, yet somewhat endearing.

At least a big-budget movie version couldn't make any less sense than Catwoman.



Supergran: Another veteran of British kid's TV, Supergran was a Scottish series about, well, a super gran.

Granny Smith was hit by some sort of beam which gave her super-strength and super-speed, which she put to good use defeating the villainous Scunner Campbell and his henchmen, Muscles and Dustin.

The best thing about Super gran was the excellent theme, recorded by Billy Connolly. We'd pay good money to hear that classic tune pumping through the speakers of our local multiplex.

Altogether now: '"Stand back Superman, Iceman, Spiderman, Batman and Robin too. Don't wanna cause a ruckus, but B. A. Barracus have I got a match for you! She makes them look like a bunch of fairies, she's got more bottle than United Dairies... Hang about... Look out... for Supergran!"


The Ferret: The Ferret was one of Malibu Comics' short-lived titles, featuring a bloke called Cal Denton, who had super-agility and feral powers, and who looked a bit like a singer from an 80s hair-metal band. Plus, he was lumbered with a terrible superhero name that would strike fear in precisely no-one.

"Quick! Here comes the Ferret!"

"The...the what?"

"The Ferret!"

"Wait, are you seriously telling me that dude is called The Ferret? Oh, man! 'Oh no, here comes The Ferret'. We'd better get a burlap bag, or something! What a tool."

"I guess it does sound pretty funny when you look at it like that..."

He was shit, really.

We think there could be some mileage in taking the character and reinventing him for the movies. Have Cal Denton get bitten by a radioactive ferret, and then have him fight crime by wriggling up criminals trouser-legs, and gnawing on their privates.

It'd be a blockbuster, I tell you.



Superman's Pal, Jimmy Olsen: Red-headed reporter and wacky funster Jimmy Olsen was given his own spin-off comic book back in 1954, which somehow managed to run for twenty years, despite Olsen having no super-powers and being a bit, well, crap.

However, as Fox is spinning Wolverine off into his own movie, and Sony is rumoured to be prepping a solo outing for Venom, it can only be a matter of time before Jimmy Olsen lands his own cinematic series, in which he tries on a fake moustaches, battles gorillas and tries to cut Superman's hair.

We think it could work, but it all depends whether Hollywood is ready to allow a film to be fronted by a character from a much-maligned minority (i.e. gingers).


The Huntsman: You could pluck any character from Warner Brothers' excellent (but brief) cartoon series Freakazoid! for silver screen immortality, but our money would be on The Huntsman.

Each episode of The Huntsman began with an action-packed intro, showing the Huntsman (summoned by the 'Horn of Urgency') fighting criminals and overcoming evil.

But then the episode proper began, with The Huntsman walking into the commissioner's office looking for work. And each week, without fail, the commissioner would reply that there was no crime to fight, leaving the Huntsman to depart, angry and dismayed.

We think a Huntsman movie would be a brilliant alternative to the smash-pow, special effects-laden superhero blockbusters of today. It could just be two hours of The Huntsman and the commissioner talking, lamenting on how quiet the city is, and pondering on the good of a crime fighter with no crime to fight.

Then, The Huntsman could leave in a huff, kicking a bin on the way out, which could be rendered in state-of-the-art CGI just to keep the audience happy.

One ticket, please!


So there you go, Hollywood, some ideas for you to try out. There's no need to thank us, we just want to make sure you keep pumping out those super-powered pictures.

If you must thank us for saving your sorry behinds, please make all cheques out to Digital Sickbag.

Thanks!

- Fanton.

RIPdogs

What is it with lolcats?

I think I've well and truly missed the boat with this particular internet phenomenon, whereby people caption pictures of cats doing stuff, using nothing but 'lolspeak'.

These fuzzy bastards have been turning up all over the web, like some kind of whiskered virus. Hell, even The Observer recently declared icanhazcheeseburger - the site which coughs up these pictures like a cat would a furball - as being one of the 50 most powerful blogs on the web.

Christ on a donkey.

Therefore, I have decided that spending hours trying to write lengthy stories about drunken aristocrats and stupid celebrities is a complete and utter waste of my time, when I could be coining it in for doing nothing more than sticking a few words on a picture.

I have seen the future, and it is furry.

So, using the formula that acronym + animal = internet infamy, may I present to you my latest creation:

RIPdogs.

RIPdogs feature pictures of dead dogs, accompanied by two simple captions; one detailing the deceased dog's name and life-span, and one explaining how the canine came to be expired - with HILARIOUS results!

I tell you, it'll be the internet phenomenon to end all internet phenomenons.

BEHOLD!

Man, I can almost hear the thunder of approaching visitors and money-hungry advertisers.

Go on - try it yourself!

- Fanton.

RIPdog UPDATE: In less than 24 hours after launching this latest viral phenomenon, fresh RIPdogs have appeared on the frankly excellent neOnbubble site.

I salute Mark Hooper for his good work, and urge EVERYONE ELSE to now go forth and make their own RIPdogs, so that they may clog up the virtual super-highway like a ten-lane lorry spill. Get to it, my lovelies!


(DISCLAIMER: No dogs were actually harmed in the making of this web sensation. All images are actually of dogs sleeping, obtained from stock.xchang. So please do not mourn them. Yet.)

Flash Men and Likely Lords

Last week, British literature lost one of its very finest comic writers, when the author George MacDonald Fraser passed away at the ripe old age of eighty-two.

For those unfamiliar with the writer in question, Fraser was a writer and journalist, who found considerable fame and fortune with the publication of his Flashman novels.

In these brilliantly funny books, Fraser took the simple conceit of plucking the unlikeable character of Harry Flashman from Thomas Hughes' Victorian novel, Tom Brown's Schooldays, and then developing a whole new series of adventures for the bullying rascal, chronicling his life after being expelled from Rugby school on account of his drunkenness.

In the first of the series, we catch up with Flashman as he becomes a soldier caught up in the midst of the British retreat from Kabul in the first Afghanistan war (1839-42). Despite the horrors taking place around him, Flashman still delights in drinking and sex, whilst trying to save his neck during the conflict by any cowardly means possible.

The book deftly combined painstakingly researched historical fact with high farce and bawdy comedy, a mixture that proved to be extremely alluring to the public. After the success of his solo debut, Flashman went on to get embroiled in Custer's Last Stand, the Indian Mutiny, and the Charge of the Light Brigade, amongst other notable events over the course of the series, which spanned twelve books in total.

I only started reading the astonishing tales of the Victorian rogue and bounder last summer, which may surprise readers of my other blog, The Astonishing Adventures of Lord Likely, in which I chronicle the astonishing tales of another Victorian rogue and bounder.

It was through Lord Likely that I discovered Flashman, (as opposed to the other way around), when I was directed to the Flashman books by fellow blogger Scaryduck, who suggested the two characters might be related. I didn't have a clue what he was talking about, so set about getting hold of a copy to see for myself.

Upon picking up the first novel in the series, my heart sank. Not because it was awful, or depressing - it was truly excellent - but because it seemed everything I was trying to do with Likely had already been done - and much better - by Fraser. The cover alone (above) seemed to capture the very essence of Lord Likely better than I could have ever managed.

Upon reading the novel, however, I realised that there were differences. The first obvious one was that Flashman was a regular guy, whilst Lord Likely is, well, a lord. Secondly, Flashman was a terrible coward and reluctant hero, while Likely is much more proactive, seeking out adventure and intrigue to alleviate the boredom bought about by the tedious routine of his aristocratic duties. Finally, Flashman is much more of a solitary character (save his wife, Elspeth), while Likely rarely travels anywhere without his long-suffering man-servant, Botter.

Of course, Fraser's work was much more rigourously researched, while the Astonishing Adventures favour crudity, farce and slapstick over historical accuracy. And I need not point out that Fraser's writing is much better than mine, but then again Likely's cock is undoubtedly bigger than Flashman's.

I was relieved to discover these differences. I hadn't set out to ape the exploits of Harry Flashman, nor rip-off George MacDonald Fraser. If anything, I'd set out to pay homage and parody Sherlock Holmes and Charles Dickens. As well as making dozens of penis jokes.

Happily, there is room enough for both takes on the Victorian hero in this world, and in fact reading Flashman has encouraged me to up my game and try harder. Why, I even did some actual research for Lord Likely's American Adventure! I used books and everything. Whatever next?

So I continue the adventures of Lord Likely unabated and more inspired. In fact, in the very latest episode, I have even had his lordship meet Harry Flashman, as a small tribute from one humble blogger, to a master of comic writing who paved the way for whippersnappers like me to stomp noisily all over it, treading mud all over the beautifully paved metaphorical path.

Mr. Fraser, sir, I raise a glass of brandy to you. Cheers!

- Fanton.

The Digital Sickbag Virtual Gig-O-Matic

Last Sunday my sister, her husband and I went along to a Manic Street Preachers gig at the BIC (which is short for Bournemouth International Centre, and does not mean we went along to watch the band play in a giant biro).

Good times were had by all - good times that YOU can recreate in your very home RIGHT NOW thanks to the Digital Sickbag Virtual Gig-O-Matic, bought to you using the very latest in sophisticated computer technology.

To begin this simulation, make sure you are dressed in something with a leopard-print design, or failing that just wear a lot of black, and maybe some eyeliner.

Now, turn off all the lights in your house. If its daytime, then draw your curtains, or just squint at the screen.

Ready? Good. Here comes...the support act, Cherry Ghost:

At this point, you should begin to get restless, because you didn't really want to see these guys. Start talking loudly, or go to the shops and buy yourself some beer. Remember to pay two or three times the price for your booze, to fully capture the gigging experience.

Right, you're back, and just in time, too. Here they are...the MANIC STREET PREACHERS! (Start cheering and whooping like a madman).

The band are opening with one of their older songs, from their first album. Show how hardcore a fan you are by mouthing along to all the lyrics!


You Love Us



Cheer, whoop and applause. And so to the next track - another oldie! Scream at the top of your lungs, people!


Motown Junk




Time for a quick toilet break now. Go and stand outside your toilet for a full twenty minutes before going in. To further add to the atmosphere, you may wish to piss all over the floor, and maybe try and have a crafty cigarette while your there.

Okay, now the band are playing That Song, the one that made them famous. As a hardened fan you should roll your eyes at this point, and maybe shake your head sadly to demonstrate your displeasure.

As the song is popular, the room erupts and people are dancing like crazy. To recreate this experience, jab yourself in the ribs repeatedly with your elbow, and spill some beer down your front.


Design For Life




At this juncture, you might like to start yelling out obtuse comments at your monitor. Stuff like 'WE LOVE YOU NICKY!', or 'SHOW US YOUR LEGS' or something. Alternatively, holler out requests for obscure B-sides and long-forgotten tracks, to further demonstrate your hardcore credentials. Then sigh when the band fails to adhere to your demands, and instead play another chart-topping hit.

Nonetheless, you still love the band, so start jumping up and down, and hurling yourself about like you have been possessed by a spirit. The SPIRIT of ROCK.


Masses Against the Classes




Applaud loudly. At this point, you may like to pretend that the band have said goodnight and walked off stage. Start shouting 'MANICS, MANICS, MANICS!' loudly at the screen. Lo and behold - they're coming back on for one more song! Hooray! Cheer and whistle happily, then erupt into almost orgiastic delight when they start playing one of their older tracks- JUST FOR YOU.


Motorcycle Emptiness




And that's it. It's over. You should be all sweaty and tired now, but happy. Go and stand outside your toilet again for anther twenty minutes, then go outside. Recreate the experience of being harassed by a shifty-looking vendor, selling knock-off band t-shirts, by throwing a twenty pound note down a drain.

Phew! Quite a night, eh? Don't forget to round things off nicely by being sick in your bed. Good times, good times.

SIMULATION ENDS.



For further Manic Street Preacher fun, visit their official website, and download their Christmas song, Ghost of Christmas. It's brilliant, a shamelessly glam-rock inspired Xmas stomper with hints of Slade and Wizzard at their most festive. A far more palatable Christmas offering than you'll find in the charts this year, and better still its FREE.

Thank you. You've been a wonderful audience.


GOODNIGHT!

- Fanton.

What's in a name?

Naming a new blog is almost as important a decision as naming your newborn child. In fact, I'd go so far as to say it's far more important than that.

Sure, you could wind up bestowing a stupid name like 'Zowie' or 'Moon Unit' or 'Gregory' upon your child, but then chances are that whatever you call your offspring they'll eventually wind up despising their name, and start developing new, far cooler sounding nicknames like 'D-Stroy' or 'Jazza' or 'XBox 360' anyway. It's all pretty irrelevant, really.

Your blog, however, cannot change its own name. Whatever you choose is what it is lumbered with for the rest of its life - which could well be FOREVER.

It is with this weighty consideration upon my mind that I set about naming this very blog. I wanted to give my new baby a snappy name, something vaguely cool-sounding. Something that wouldn't get it picked on by the bigger blogs in the virtual schoolyard.

But what? I did not have one single idea in my entire brain. It's a tricky process, but luckily there are a few clear options open to you when you are naming a blog, which I've carefully researched and present to you now:

The self-titled blog. Simply name your blog after yourself! Not only does it require zero creativity, but it also means that you don't have to try and remember a whole new name. Easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy.

However, the self-titled blog does carry with it a certain air of arrogance, as if the writer considers him or herself so important and famous that people should either already know their name, or learn it fast. This is fine if you are actually important and/or famous, but makes you look like a right cocky bastard if you aren't.

It should be noted that I used to own a self-titled blog.

The Writing-Based Pun: Blogs are all about writing, so why not make your blog's title an awfully witty pun based upon that very fact? Write In it! Write On! Write Now! Write Where I Belong! Write Now I Am Stabbing Myself In The Eye With A Fork To Spare Me The Agony Of Your Awful Punnery!

It should be noted that I used to own a writing-based pun blog.

The Cock Tease: If you want to get a ridiculously high volume of traffic to your blog, then titling it something vaguely dirty and provocative like Dirty Tramp or Wild Ejaculations or Fuck My Tits will guarantee you a continued torrent of sweaty-palmed surfers who googled 'minge' and who then accidentally found themselves on your page. They won't stay long (unless there are actually tits on your site) but your stats will certainly look impressive. You whore.

Self-Deprecation: We all know that by publishing our thoughts and opinions openly on the Internet we are leaving ourselves open to abuse, so why not get the first blow in right away - on yourself! By naming your blog in such a self-mocking manner it looks like you already think you are rubbish, and are thus immune from any further barbs or critiques.

However, although titles like Wittering On, Boring Guff, Dreary Nothings, Turgid Nonsense and Pile of Shit may make you think you are being all witty and self-deprecating, people might actually take the title literally and leave without reading past that header. Either that, or you call your blog Useless Toss and it actually turns out to be a bunch of useless toss. Or, worst still, your enemies and detractors may feel like they have to try harder to rile you, and go beyond spamming your comments section and straight onto kidnapping you and setting fire to your loved one's hair. Use with caution.

The Surrealistic Juxtaposition: If you want to make yourself look a bit wacky and (shudder) zany, then this could be the choice for you. All you need to do is combine two disparate words or items to get your new, ker-azy blog name. Things like: Anaemic Hippo, Revolving Hatstand, Nuclear Bungalow, Retarded Sparrow, Smoking Omelette, Vibrating Pope, Smarmy Trilby etc.

WARNING: if carried out poorly, the surrealistic juxtaposition can wind up making you look like a really unfunny prick, who probably spends all day quoting Family Guy or Monty Python.

So, I present to you now: Digital Sickbag.

Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!
\

- Andy Fanton.