PR Agent Required

We here at Skanky Media inc. Are pleased to announce the opening of a new position.

We are looking for a dedicated, Creative and forward thinking Individual to be the Public Relations officer for none other than Tulisa Conto.....Errr From N Dubz.  The job will require you to follow Mrs from N Dubz around, (while holding your head in your hands). and being on hand to promote Mrs N Dubz good name.

Job Requirements

• The candidate must be creative, And able to come up with good excuses for severe 'negative publicity' situations, Such as Major drugs scandals, and Poor Blowjobs are commonplace.
• The candidate must also have a keen interest in shopping at Primark, and other such 'Chavvy' shops.
• An eye for Burberry, Argos jewellery and fake 'Playboy bunny' underwear (From Chelmsford market) is also an Advantage.
• Most importantly the candidate should be deaf, or Actually not mind listening to N Dubz.
• Being a Drug dealer/Baron with a BMW is also preferable.

Candidates are expected To work 150 hours a week, Although depending on events (Claims of affairs, Giving birth to a chinese baby etc) this could climb.  The Job is very well paid, the successful applicant can expect to receive £7 per week, plus bonuses including a £15 Argos voucher and a Hamper from Lidl at Christmas.  Any overtime will be paid in either Ecstasy tablets or 'Blowies'

Closing date for applicants is 10-6-13

Caravans, Candy Crush and Eurovision

This morning, As part of my recently alarming descent in an early midlife crisis I decided to go fishing, But not to catch fish, More for the peace and quiet and tranquillity of the rolling sea.That and the fact I'm quite willing to do a 'Reggie Perrin'. On my way to the fishing spot I have to walk through a caravan park, Which got me thinking, Why on gods earth would anyone want to stay in a bloody caravan ? I spent the four and a half hours I was fishing trying to think of one good reason, and I just couldn't.
For those of you not familiar with the whole principle of caravaning, I'll give you a short explanation. Firstly you need to buy a caravan, You have two choices, either one with wheels, which means you can take your holiday home with you when you visit the same place every year, Or a static, Which means you cannot. Either way you will have to spend an outrageously large sum of money, for lets face it, One room full of beige velour fabric and toilet you have to empty yourself.
Then you have to decide where you want to put your caravan, Because even if you buy one with wheels, you will inevitably end up going back to the same place every year. Where you choose to go is up to you, However according to the 'Happy Camper' magazine it is common to go somewhere very similar to where you live but with a slightly poorer climate. May I suggest Ulrome.
Then you have to decide which caravan site you wish to stay at, In most seaside towns Many semi entrepreneurial local people will have bought a few acres and stuck a few toilet blocks on them. Some parks cost more than others, the 'Bargain' parks are basically a field, a wooden shack with filthy toilet facilities and quite near a train line. The 'Expensive' parks are pretty much the same, but they have a small, overpriced newsagents on them. 
Then you have to decide what you are going to do when you've arrived. Most Caravanist's spend the first hour of their holiday wondering just why the several miles of drivers behind them were getting all 'Het up'. after that it's entirely up to you, But you will have to empty your own feces, shower with other people in disgusting toilet blocks, wash up and cook your own food. In between all that though, you can have much fun, sat on a fold up chair reading the daily mail with a drooping testicle hanging from beneath your beige shorts seems to be the 'In thing' with caravaners at the moment. Be warned though, Most caravan parks will not allow you to do certain things, Ball games, BBQ's, running, music, laughing, smiling etc.
It really isn't a holiday is it, Not when, for less money, and for less hassle you can stay in a hotel, have your food cooked, and shower in a warm, clean environment without having to worry that a middle aged, large, balding bloke is constantly staring at your John Thomas.
As I mentioned at the start of my post I'm entering a midlife crisis, Which means I'm either going to die at 42 or I'm an advanced developer, Either way, one of the causing factors to my mental imbalance seems to stem from my mobile phone. 2 years ago I knew exactly what my phone wanted, If it made a continuous noise someone was calling, so I could ignore them, If it made a one off noise someone was texting, So I could ignore them as well. And if it made an occasional beep it meant the battery was low, So I could charge my phone so I could ignore everyone. But nowadays I'm never sure. If my phone beeps now It could be a call (unlikely) a text (Unlikely) battery (likely) a friends request, a re tweet, a new follower, a life on candy crush, a sheep on farmville an Email or something to tell me that my burgers are ready on cafe world. And I mean, How am I meant to prepare for that, How can I open my phone and expect to have to harvest crops but then end up having to talk to someone? There really is no wonder I'm going crazy.
One good thing about this week was the Eurovision neighbour song contest, In which we (Great Britain) didn't do well, but we did better than last time so we did do well, If you follow me. Basically we entered a once respectable singer to sing a naff song and ruined what was left of her waining career. One thing that did strike me though is when the votes were read out from the various countries all the presenters were stood next to rivers, presumably so they could jump in after being forced to watch some Estonian sing a song no one could understand.
Next year we should just let a load of pissed up Geordie's sing 'Coming Home Newcastle' just so we could see the population of Belarus try and figure out what 'Ahm coming home Newcastle,Ye can keep ye London wine,Ahd walk the streets al day al neet,For ay bottle ay the River Tyne,' means.

Youth Police Commissioner...Only in England

So Today, It has been revealed that the country's first Youth Police Commissioner, is infact a drug fuelled, idiotic, racist who does silly things after a few 'Blue WKD's'. In my opinion that is exactly what you can expect by appointing someone called Paris.

But what exactly was 'Paris' meant to do? I mean, was she installed to help the 'Grown up' police commissioner to have a better understanding of the playstation generation? If so she's pretty much summed them up perfectly. Another 'Chantelle - Dimi' Full of underage sex and Greggs.
I assume if she indeed has any responsibility at all, Then I guess the people who live in the rural village of Kent can expect to have new laws stating that everyone must wear tight leggings (regardless of weight), that show a dark coloured thong underneath.
But I can't imagine she will have any responsibility, Because Lets face it, An adult Police Commissioner is next to worthless, So a Junior one is even less than that. She has however got a £15k salary for her crime fighting troubles.

If anyone thinks this is a dig at the young generation, Then it isn't, It's a dig at people called Paris, and other stupid names, I mean, Jeremy Kyle is innundated with people called Shazney and Wayne and Shazney's baby's father Kayden. But when was the last time something bad happened surrounding someone called Annabel, Or Ken?
Can you really see the dragons from the den entertaining 'Saffron's' Idea for 'EZ to enter trackies with a warming pocket for sausage rolls'

It does seem that Names are going silly, Last year in America (where else) more than one child was named 'Burger' I assume after the parents favourite things. So I can see in this country the name 'Hanging around Bus Shelters smoking Weed' will become quite popular in the next few years. Wich is a worry, Because When 'Saffire's doing her Work experience as a midwife she isn't going to be able to spell that.

innit mate.

50 Shades of Health and Safety

This, is the largely untrue raunchy, and somewhat arousing story of Alan, and his dream girl, Brenda.

Alan, sat his heart racing, as Brenda whipped, harder and harder, until gradually it became stiffer and stiffer. Alan loved watching Brenda make the custard at the works canteen. He watched intently as her pink and blue tabard wafted gracefully in contrast to her vigorous arm movements. Brenda was the 50 something cook at the factory and Alan was the site safety officer. They'd both been at the factory for over 30 years, but recently separated Alan had never seen Brenda in such a light.
"One of them lamps has gone, we'll get someone in to fix that before someone has a mishap" said Alan, his eyes guiding Brenda's to the faulty light fitting over the counter.
"About bloody time" replied Brenda in a strong Lancashire accent, Alan loved it when she talked dirty.

Brenda was laying it on, thick, all over his spotted dick.
"Ok, stop there love, " said Alan in a flustered out of breath style. As the custard oozed over edges. And with a glint in his eye and a wink, Alan and Brenda parted ways once more.

Despite having both known each other for so long Alan hadn't had the courage to talk to his blue rinse babe about his passions and desires. He may have only recently been separated but the flame from his last marriage had long seen been extinguished, ever since Carol, his former wife had been diagnosed with an Irritable Bowel. And it all became too much for Alan, who masterfully demanded he be kicked out, and that she must take the Audi, sit on mower and the House. Carol, had little choice but too agree, being forced to choose wheat germ over her husband of 22 years.

Alan had longed to see Brenda out of her tabard and in her weekend clothes, and with his separation meaning he now rented a bedsit on the high street, he could, as every other Saturday Brenda and her friend Peggy would go and get their perms done, by Val at Valduzair, and Alan could sit and watch Brenda as she got out of her taxi, on some days, she'd even show a bit of underskirt.

It was now mid July, and the temperature was hotting up, and Alan sat in his office one morning, sweating, but not just because of the intense heat, but also because of the nerves, because today was the day. Today he would have his way with Brenda.

Brenda was due in his office at 9 for disciplinary chat, after she accepted some bread rolls without having the invoice forms signed, in triplicate. Alan knew this was his chance, his chance to make Brenda an offer she couldn't refuse.

With 5 minutes to go, Alan's nerves were in tatters, he polished his name badge and slowly fondled with his cuff links, his certificates glistened on the wall behind his desk. And he reached down into his desk drawer to pull the steradent flavoured condoms (two birds, one stone) to the front. Then came the call from his PA....

To be continued

Location:Paradise

Phil Brown appointed new Pope.

After the shock news that Pope Benedict XVI resigned, The catholic church has yet again been rocked by the news that former Hull City Manager Phil Brown has been appointed the new pope. Pope Phil  will be assisted by Cardinal Paul Duffen. And the pair already have big plans to raise the appeal of the Catholic Church.
"We have a few plans to raise the global footprint of the catholic church' Quoted Duffen.
Pope Brown was on a sunbed in South Shields when he claims to have got the call from god. "It was quite a shock when I got the call, I was just having a bit of me time after been rejected for the Limerick job" Said Brown.
Sue Gold, the owner of the tanning salon said "Phil had just finished his usual 22 minute session, and had just rolled his trousers up for his fish pedicure, when all of a sudden I heard a polyphonic version of Sloop John B, Next thing Phil's on the phone"
After the call, Brown,53, grabbed the salons loud speaker, ran out into the street, and with rolled up trousers and and a heavenly glow began to belt out a rendition of Chesney Hawkes' 'I am the one and Only'
Messages of support have been trickling in for Brown, with West Ham manager Sam Allardyce saying "Phil's a lovely bloke, A bit clingy, But still a nice guy' and Former shampoo spokesman Jimmy Bullard spoke to us from his champagne filled hot tub in Ipswich 'Phil's a great man, Really, really clever.'
Brown has been out of work for some time, and has recently been turned down by a number of clubs including Hartlepool, Oldham, and the Houghton Le Spring WMC. It is also rumoured that Brown had been struggling with his finances, and was forced into selling his Racehorses to an Irish food company.
Martin Richards, Manager of the Durham Burton's store said "We used to see phil alot, he'd come in almost every day to get a new suit or scarf, He always looked very dapper, Now we sometimes see him across the road at oxfam, walking his dog Jay-Jay'
In his first public interview since been appointed pope, Brown, who wore a fetching Pink Shirt with Ralph Lauren jumper tied around the waist said 'I've got big plans for this religious cult, And without saying too much, I have a conversion that will blow your cassocks off'
Hours later Cardinal Duffen revealed an audacious attempt to Lure Ganesha away from Hindu, Saying 'He's the one, He's the lad that Phil wants, and what Phil wants, Phil gets'
However not all people are in support of the new head of the Vatican, One twitter user saying "Browns a fucking idiot, He's clueless, and is prone to mental breakdowns, I once found him dressed as a Victorian chimney sweep, running around lidl car park, making noises like a spitfire'  @BriHorton49, Former Hull striker Kamel Ghilas said 'It wouldn't surprise me if he didn't build a load more churches, then just leaves them empty for two years before selling them off as carpet shops' 
With so many conflicting opinions on Brown it remains to be seen how the Church will cope with their new leader

Diary of an 'Africa' animal.

Well for those of you who have been watching the BBC 1 series 'Africa', which I strongly suggest you do, you will have noticed a certain pattern developing. This is a largely un factual diary of any one of those creatures.


Monday

Bloody hell, it's warm here, we haven't had rain for 4 months now and I'm parched, I got hold of a few leaves yesterday but that's about it, I had them with sand, I was going to do ants, but the only ones I could find we're those buggers that nip. I saw a female animal of the same species as well today, Shirley I think she's called, Anyway I'm not going to bother with all that romance rubbish that humans do, I'll just go over and see her Tommorow, puff my chest out and give her a damn good seeing too.

Tuesday
Crikey that was close, I went over to see Shirley earlier, I was just about to make my move and another bloody bloke turns up, giving it large. It turns out he fancies her as well, I tried talking to the bloke, but he was having none of it, he started snorting and waving his claws/hooves/trunk/tail/stinger/horn around like a mad man, I could see he fancied himself as some sort of 'jack the lad' we had a bit of a scuffle, and I caught him with a peach of a left hoof, right to his temple, sent him flying. And it looked good in front of Shirley. Who was most taken aback with her rogering. Still no rain, this is getting daft now,

Wednesday
Well that's the last time I talk to that Shirley, after all the bother I went to just so she could get a bit of how's your father. She only tried to kill me afterwards, because "that's what they do apparently". I'm taking her on Jeremy Kyle next month and we'll have it sorted. Some fucker with a massive camera came along today and kept sticking that in my face, one of the elephants said he was from the BBC so I tried to ham it up a bit, this could be my big break. We've still had no rain, But the cameraman left a few crisps behind so I had them with a bit of sand.

Thursday
Well I don't bloody believe it, it's pissing it down, heavy as well, not just a bit of drizzle, just as I'd put my winter coat away. The rivers full so the hippos are as happy as pigs in shit, and now finally I can get some greenery down me neck. I think I'm going to have to go and see my mate Steve the buffalo about my sex life, I was giving it to Shirley's sister Monica last night, and the bitch tried to kill me as well. She broke my bloody leg, I don't know wether it's me, am I doing something wrong?. Anyway as I limped back to my pad last night there was a few vultures flying around over head, lobbing stones and being Yobs in general, it's about time the police did something about them. All the gazelles are scared to go out at night.

Friday
This rains taking the piss, the whole place is flooded, the good news is some other poor sod died last night so I managed to get a nice bit of meat for the first time in ages, I had it warm with a bit of wet sand. I was with Sylvia last night, she's Shirley's half sister, and she goes like a rabbit. She didn't get chance to try and kill me though, I'd barely finished wiping the old chap on the curtains when I turned around and some other bloke was having a go on her, slag. Overall it's been a fairly good week, Drought, Food, Fight, Intercourse, Flood. Anyway as I'm sat here writing this with a nice warm pint of mushed beetle them vultures are hovering over head, I wonder what them bastards want.....

Diary of a Delivery driver.

*******I'm not a van Driver, But this is how I imagine their week goes******

Monday
Well, It's Monday again, And I'm back to my job, I know most people (with the exception of the chirpy, young and deceptively attractive apprentice electrician I deliver to, James I think his name is) Dislike their jobs, But they don't have the same reasons as I do.

At 16 when I sat down with the careers officer in school and told her I want a job that is mainly sitting down, with a small amount of time spent unloading boxes I imagined it would open up a expansive, Mind opening career. But no, Today for example. Today I delivered 3 washing machines to various people, None of them grateful, Someone else has built them, someone else will fit them, But I've got my own back, Occasionally I like to send a Stanley knife down the side of the odd item, Just to make the day go faster. It does briefly. I'd delivered 2 of my washing machines by 11am, So I decided to sit in a lay by for the next 6 hours, I made myself tomato sandwiches for a change today. So that was nice.
The third machine was to be delivered to an elderly women. I could see she was frail, and lived alone, So I left her machine and as far away from it's desired location as possible, It's what we in the trade call 'Twatting'

Tuesday
I made it through Monday ok, I got home last night and drank 4 cans of special brew with my fish finger sandwich, so that was nice. Today the other lads in the office at work were laughing at me, I don't know why. I think it's because of my obsession with car boot sales. I usually go, every third Sunday to the boot sales. I sell cheap screwdrivers, Beanie Babies and McDonald's happy meal toys. It's nice to see the smile on the Kiddies faces as they give me their £10 for a grubby transformer with moving arms and slight chew marks. Because of the bad start to the day I'm going to take it easy.
Them bastards laughed at me, But I'll have the last laugh, I've left half of the stuff I should have taken, on my bay at the depot, and they'll get it in the neck. They hate it when we do that, It was that stunt that got me fired from the NHS, I used to deliver transplants, Until One of the lasses in the office mocked my fondness of turtle neck sweaters, So I left someones Kidney behind and she got a right earful off the bosses. Just to top today off I made myself tomato sandwiches for a change and left them at home.

Wednesday
So yesterday was a bad day, But today Is going to be better, I made myself tomato sandwiches for a change, and When I got to work I found out why the office staff were laughing at me, Apparently the office clown came in with a dead slug on his top lip, Taking the piss out of my Movember attempt. I know it's now January but I like it. And Big Mary from the bus home said It makes me look like a chubby Charlie Chaplin, with High blood pressure.
Today was going well until about 2pm when I saw a few Eddie Stobarts go past, It just reminded me of my shortcomings, I mean I may run the rule over biddies in their Honda Jazz's but I'm nothing compared to a Stobart Driver, Well that's what my Vegan ex wife said when she ran off with one.Cow. I mean Stobarts are like the Man City of Haulage, No History, Just snazzy new uniforms and A big Dennis. Bastards. I once met a Stobart man in a bar, He's under the patio now...

Thursday
OK Yesterday was a struggle, But that's because I forgot my medication, Well when your on the amount of tablets I'm on It's hard to remember them all, I take two for blood pressure, four anti depressants, A hormone replacement pill and a few I got from 'Russian Derek' down at the car boot. I'm hoping for a quiet day today, I don't want to get too sweaty, I've got a date tonight, Well It's more a speed dating event. I got a new suit from the British Heart Foundation shop on Saturday, So I'll have to iron that tonight, and I managed to get hold of a bottle of 'English Leather' aftershave from Derek, I'll be beating them off with a stick, Just not as hard as last time though, I can't afford to dig the patio up for  a third time.  I'm only delivering soft drinks today, So It shouldn't be that bad. I've managed to plan all my deliveries around the recipients break times, It's what we in the trade call 'Arseholing'. Just as I thought today was going well I spilled my Boiling tea all over my groin while I was having my lunch, I made tomato sandwiches for a change, But they got covered in tea and went all soggy.

Friday
Well the speed dating went well, One young lady there had a very low cut top on, She didn't give me her number but she must of thought I was some kind of scientist from the movies, She thought I was a time traveller and asked what decade my scent was from. 'Big Mary' from the busses was there, and we had a nice chat, We stayed on after and I bought her a glass of Lambrini, I had a Rum and Pep. According to the woman running the event I didn't have any matches, But that's a lie, Because I have a packet of Swan Vesta's in my pocket. I use them to light my Pipe on a lunchtime. My lazy eye makes lighting a pipe difficult, But I feel the scorch marks on my collar add a certain 'Rugged' look to my appearance. My Movember also Improves that Look, But it does make finishing a pot noodle very difficult, As I Discovered this morning when one of my work colleagues told me I had a half a noodle hanging from my nose. It must have been from last nights tea.
Anyway with it been Friday I know most of the companies I deliver to finish at 3:30pm, So I tend to wait till about 20 past to deliver my fare. It's what we in the game call 'Fuckwitting'. Anyway, I've got Big Mary from the busses coming round for tea tonight, So I'm saving my Tomato sandwiches for then for a change, I thought we could have them with some of them Dolphin Nose potatoes from Netto.