The smoking ban...

I've been waiting for this shit for years. I hate having to breathe other people’s second hand smoke. And to be fair, my friends try to keep it to a minimum around me cause they ain’t arseholes. I hated the way my clothes would smell when I came back from the pub or a club... I hated when you hung out with a smoker, you would always stink of smoke...






It makes so much sense to have a smoking ban, it will encourage people to quit, which is only good for peoples health, though probably not the economy...

 So now I’m back in Scotland, why am I not happy? Who would have expected it to all blow up in my face?

 Instead of having clubs stink of smoke, I now realise that the smoke was covering up the smell of something far worse... Sweat. The smoke covered up all the smells of sweaty people dancing and dripping everywhere, and it ain’t pretty. Think of that guy who sits next to you on the bus, who stinks so badly, your eyes start to water a little... well now they are dancing all around you!

Money Business …

There are many things in this world which I dislike, don’t understand, or just put up with. Like politics, the stock exchange or women. Some things however really piss me off. Here is a list of the most important ones.

Adverts on TV you already pay for:

I pay for BBC, and there are no constant adverts for personal loans. I pay for sky/cable, and there are adverts for 3.5 minutes in every 20. I find myself getting up every advert to go fix myself a snack just so I don’t have to watch another advert with Carol Doberman trying to sell me something... No wonder Americans are so fat.

Chatting Up

Why wait ‘till the end of the first date, when the toilets are so close…

 Much like burning yourself on a hot dish, or getting your penis stuck in the toaster, the art of seduction is something that has to be learned through trail and error. Or to give it its frequently used slang name, ‘Pulling’. Going on the pull is one of the practices performed in life which I may never understand. To leave the house with the intention of meeting someone seems wrong. In a world where girls watch romantic/comedy films filled with subtle glances, slight touches of the arm and tired yet timeless plotlines, the grim reality of how men and women meet seems to be so different. What good story ever started with "I was so wasted..."? Actually a lot of good stories start this way, but it will never make for a good ‘Rom-Com’.

Think 'You've Got Mail' mixed with 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas' and you'll know what I mean.

Fat Birds and their Fat Arses

There’s nothing worse than standing in a bar or club and suddenly realising that there’s a great wobbling tub of lard shaking to "It's Like that, That’s the way it is huuurr"! That big wobbling sack of Macdonald’s almost thinks she looks good in a tight top and a tight pair of trousers. You've got to feel  sorry for that poor pair of jeans fighting the good fight, so that no one has to see what hell actually looks like before their times due. Anyway what’s even worse is that they also look round with a look on their face that’s similar to when an afghan see's a parcel falling from the sky, the look of a wild animal searching for its next victim, and the look of a psycho maniac with AN EATING DISORDER all rolled into one.


You can't resist shouting "ai up lardy av another cream cake" or just laughing in hysterics until she looks round and glares at you (personal experience-that Krazy House girl needs a whale harness), harpoon that whale you shout!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAhhhhhhh were losing the battle, the smell is overwhelming, your praying for a lynx van to crash straight head on into her, and then your prayers are answered. 2-o-clock comes and a thin bored headed guy karts her off as a last resort!!!!! Yey for desperate people!!!!!!!!!!

Rugby-A Sporting Disaster!

I’m just going to get right into this one. Is there really anything’s shitter than Rugby? Where a load of fat Basterdo's run up and down a piece of grass and jump at a load of white lines with a pound shop football!

I have a theory, Rugby originated from one fat man sitting on a football for, err a couple of days, then realising that all it was useful for was booting in the air!! Then the kids whose football it was ran after him cursing him with profanities a plenty, the fat man fell over on a white line, they all piled on and kicked the crap out of him, and yippee we have the new worst sport in the world today.

I just can't see the point of this one, and the situation was made worse when yet again the Americans copied it!! American Football-Rugby but with a big arse head Helmut cause they can’t take the pain!!

Disabled… The Toilet of Champions

I'm a lazy man of convenience. I can admit it. I don't believe in doing things the hard way. If there is an easy way of doing things, that’s what I’ll be doing. Which is probably why I found myself in the disabled toilets in uni, 'cause damn those disabled people have it easy. Everything’s convenient, which is why I use their parking spaces, and why I was using their toilet.

 What I don't get though, is why disabled toilets have toilet seats... As far as I can tell, that small lid is for men to lift so they don't pee all over the seat. Never works, but it's a good idea. I can understand why they have toilet seats in woman’s toilets, as its stupid not to use the same toilets, when buying in bulk is cheaper. But all the disabled I’ve looked at have thicker bases because the people have to wrestle themselves onto the seat, an ordinary toilet may not withstand the strain. There are only two ways I can think of for disabled people to do their "Business" that would require the seat to be up:

Save the Local Corner Shop

Near the university I attend there is an elderly Indian man who owns a paper shop. He is a miserable bastard. He snatches the money from your hands, yet looks like he is about to have a heart attack when he is giving you back your change. He doesn't say how much things cost either. He just thrusts out his hand in front of you to receive money. I enjoy patiently waiting while his hand hovers in front of me, until he tells me how much it all costs. If you don't ask he could just make up a price. Though I think that’s how his pricing scheme works anyway.

 Normally I’d boycott such a place, but it’s all about location. He doesn’t have to be friendly to customers as there is a constant stream of new students every year that don’t know him, so he can easily get away with it.

Late as the American Army

Raging Horse has been studying closely the habits of people  and in particular the way in which using a clock seems to be a thing of the past, unfortunately newer technology such as watches seem to have been lost on modern teenagers. Can no one tell the time anymore? The answer is no, seem as everyone thinks that half an hour is five minutes and an hour is a mere ten, although that timing would save us having to listen to the queens speech for quite as long every year-a bonus I’m sure you’ll all agree.

I am referring of course to the new form of time keeping which makes lateness a fashion accessory and the new IT word. Maybe this is a trend that was rife in the American Army for, well forever! With watches seemly set on oriental hours and people following the "it’ll be all good in the end" attitude is it any wonder the British empire now consists of a hut in Afghanistan and three small hot dog stands in Norway? This is the sort of behaviour that leaves Raging Horse looking like a right tit head for being there within five minutes of the time arranged- I won't be late for my funeral! Although due to this behaviour I have become incredibly good at whistling and my thumbs are now highly skilled in the art of thumb twiddling. I intend to broadcast the fact that clockwatching is only frowned upon in the workplace-it's perfectly alright to take the odd glance at your watch every so often-take a look it's fun honestly (in the words of Gary Glitter).

What's in a name?

Well friends, it’s been one hell of a busy month. Exams, gluttony and a brand new porno DVD have all taken their toll on my wellbeing. But there is an upside...During my endless pursuit of knowledge I have stumbled across a language technique that may just hold the key to my destiny. Thanks to the awesome power of alliteration I stand a greater chance of becoming a superhero than the average Joe. Peter Parker, Bruce Banner, Clarke Kent... all of these superheroes have rhyming names. Craig C... The next superhero. Unfortunately my partner in crime, Tom R stands less of a chance.

 And this is only for superheroes. I don’t want to hear "But Batman is Bruce Wayne, he's a superhero". As cool as Batman is, he isn't a superhero. The definition of a superhero is that they must have a super power. Like strength, webs, super-vision, lasers, or the ability to have a character called "Mr Freeze" and yet still get a sequel etc

Togo, the Jackass Penguin

Mmm….. Tastes Like Aqua Chicken

 Last week I heard on the radio that Togo the penguin was stolen from a zoo on the Isle of Wight. This was followed by a plea for his safe return and some listener’s comments. Straight away a man phones up to say that whoever took this baby penguin away from its mother should be shot. SHOT!!! For Christ’s sake that’s a bit fuckin' extreme. To say that someone who stole a penguin should be lined up against a wall and shot. Some people are way too sensitive. Man has been doing this shit for years and no one even gave a shit. It’s not like he was a rapist or murderer.

 "But that doesn’t make it right! That penguin will be without its mother!"

 You hypocritical fuck arse. I never saw you mount a moral crusade when you received that puppy last year. Oh no, that small dog will be without its mother.... same shit, different animal.

Painfully Accurate (C) 2003 SharpSpanner Studios

Painfully Accurate

Daily Star Describes Painfully Accurate album “SplittingHeirs” as “The Bset Fckuing Aublm In The Wrold” *****

Recently Released Demo’s of Painfully Accurate’s modern interpretation of Rock N Roll.

Recorded at SharpSpanner Studios 2003