So, you've woken up to life, at last?
Well done!
Now you're ready to move on to step two of my program - Stand Up And Be Standing!
It's all very well being awake, but being awake and horizontal will do you no favours at ALL. No-one got anywhere being awake and horizontal, apart from my third wife Maria and prostitutes.
You're not a prostitute, are you?
Of course not.
So, it's time you took a stand, and said, "I'm not going to stand for all this not-standing any more! I'm going to make a stand, and stand up for what I believe in, which is standing up!"
Now, grab life by the shoulders, and haul yourself up out of the bed, until you are completely vertical. Not half-vertical, or leaning at an angle of 35 degrees. No: you've gotta be 100%, completely and utterly standing up vertically.
For more help with standing up, phone my hot-line now to order my book and DVD, 'Making a Stand And Taking A Chance'. Just dial 0800 BOBBINS HELPLINE - RIGHT AWAY!
Okay, see you next time for the next stage of my award-winning program: 'Two Steps Forward, No Steps Back'.
Bye!
- Dan Bobbins.
Dan Bobbins is one of America's top motivational speakers and self-help gurus, who's clients have included US President George W Bush, murderous GP Dr. Harold Shipman, renowned serial killer Ted Bundy, Ugandan dictator and mass-murderer Idi Amin and top movie star Corey Feldman. Bobbins has also written many top-selling books, including 'Kick the Crap Out of Yourself', 'Finding Your Inner Child and Sending Him To Bed With No Supper' and 'Pulling Our Fingers Out of Our Souls'.
Dan Bobbins lives in LA with his fifth wife, Alicia.
Saturday 31 March 2007
Stand Up And Be Standing, with Dan Bobbins.
Thursday 29 March 2007
Anthology of Awful: Restroom In Peace, Jeremy
Toilets.
We all like to use them, to dispose of our effluence that would otherwise mount up around our ears, don't we?
Or do we?
For Jeremy Pinecone, one simple trip to the lavatory almost wound up being a trip...to HELL.
Jeremy Pinecone (age 23, but that is of little to no relevance to the following tale) had been enjoying a nice night out with friends. They had drank beers together, watched a stripper, punched out a couple of headlights and gone for a curry at their local French-Indian restaurant, The Taj Mange-All.
Ravished after a hard night's leering and shouting, the friends ordered a plentiful spread of food, and gorged upon it hungrily.
For Jeremy Pinecone, the twelfth plate of Korma du Poulet was to prove too much for his digestive system to handle, and so he left the table and headed to the restaurant's toilets.
The toilet was located at the back of the establishment, down a rather dark and dismal corridor that bore none of the tasteful decor of the restaurant itself. Nevertheless, Jeremy locked himself in the dank restroom, and prepared to evacuate his bowels.
The bowel motion was fast and furious, the explosive mixture of curries and lagers causing poor Jeremy Pinecone's colon to almost combust under the strain.
But that was the least of Jeremy's problems.
Having successfully performed his task, leaving his hindquarters splattered with feces, Jeremy reached for the toilet roll to clean himself up.
He paused, frozen in terror.
There was no toilet roll.
An empty, cardboard tube hung on the holder, silently mocking him.
Jeremy panicked. What would he do? He was pretty certain it was a rather sizable social faux-pas to return to dinner reeking of excrement.
Luckily for Jeremy Pinecone, a passing ghost appeared in the toilet, so Jeremy simply used the apparition to wipe his anus clean of all the crap.
A close call for Jeremy Pinecone, then, readers. But still, you have to agree, that was some spooky shit.
Sleep well, readers.
- The Book-Keeper.
Wednesday 28 March 2007
Take Life From Behind with Dan Bobbins
WAKE UP TO LIFE!
Hey!
Have you ever woken up one morning, and felt nothing but dread about the day ahead?
Well, I'm here to give you another wake-up call and to tell you to wake up. Wake up...to LIFE!
Yeah, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking "Gee, Dan, that's a lot of waking up to do!" You bet your waking ass it is!
I'm gonna wake each and every one of you up. All the way up, no compromises. I'll not stop until you're all fully awake, and as far away from asleep as you can be.
Only when you're fully awake can YOU start to affect the BIG changes in YOUR life. No-one ever made any big changes by being asleep.
Do you think Thomas Edison invented the light-bulb while asleep?
Of course not. He was 100%, totally and completely AWAKE.
So, join me in my revolutionary new program, 'Wake Up To Life, Go To Sleep A Winner!', and I'll spend every waking moment waking you up.
WAKE UP!
Goodnight!
- Dan Bobbins.
Dan Bobbins is one of America's top motivational speakers and self-help gurus, who's clients have included US President George W Bush, murderous GP Dr. Harold Shipman, renowned serial killer Ted Bundy, Ugandan dictator and mass-murderer Idi Amin and top movie star Corey Feldman. Bobbins has also written many top-selling books, including 'Kick the Crap Out of Yourself', 'Finding Your Inner Child and Sending Him To Bed With No Supper' and 'Pulling Our Fingers Out of Our Souls'.
Dan Bobbins lives in LA with his fifth wife, Alicia.
Anthology of Awful: The Haunting of Linda Thimbles
Ghosts.
The spirits of the departed, returned from the grave to haunt the living?
Maybe.
Or maybe...something more...sinister?
For 29 year-old accounting assistant Linda Thimbles, it was to be the latter.
One night, Linda Thimbles was preparing for bed, having had an exhausting day assisting accountants with their accounting duties.
She fell gratefully into her bed, turned off her bedside lamp, and drifted into a much-needed sleep.
Hours later, Linda Thimbles snapped awake, and immediately sensed something was deeply wrong. Her room was freezing cold, and she felt she was being watched by eyes that were not of this world.
She glanced up at her alarm clock, and noticed it was 3:30am. She sighed, remembering that in less than three hours, she would have to get up again, for another day of assisting accountants.
Linda Thimbles groaned, and decided to put aside her apprehensions, and go back to sleep. However, as she turned over in her bed, something caught her eye.
Something that made her quite literally freeze in fear, although not in a literal sense.
There, at the foot of the bed, was the unmistakable white figure of a GHOST.
The spirit flapped about gently, but made no other motion and did not advance upon Linda Thimbles. Yet she remained uneasy, sensing that, although the apparition had no eyes, it was carefully WATCHING her.
Then she noticed something else.
The ghoul seemed to be patterned, with dozens of little pink bunny-rabbits adorning its body.
Then Linda Thimbles realised - this was no ghost. This was just one of her duvet covers, gently flapping in the breeze from the open window.
Just a duvet cover...
Just?
Oh, dear readers, had it been a simple ghoul we could have all rested. We know where we are with ghouls, and many of us can go a lifetime without ever meeting one.
But knowing that it was, in fact, a duvet cover - like the ones you or I own, means that we too could be startled by a piece of linen, at any time. Night or day, today or tomorrow. We will not know when to expect it, but when it occurs, and the sheet carries out it's terrifying duty, we will shit ourselves for a few, agonizing seconds.
And that is the terrifying truth.
Sleep well.
- The Book-Keeper.
Matt For It: Elton's Birthday Bash 'Gayest Ever'
Elton John's 60th birthday bash, which takes place on March 25th in New York, will be the "gayest ever", according to Elton himself.
"I've had some very gay birthday parties in the past," Elton told Matt For It, "but they will all look positively straight when compared to this year's party. It will be unbelievably gay."
Everything, from the guest-list to the food, will be "totally gay", said Elton. A team of top chefs have been flown in specially to prepare a suitably gay menu, including: gay ice cream, gay sausages, gay jelly and the gayest birthday cake in the world, shaped like a gay cock.
Elton John...gay.GAY STUDIES
While the gay community prepares itself for the gayest day in it's gay social calender, some are less than gay (in the happy sense, not the gay sense) about the planned gay party.
"Elton John is being reckless and extremely selfish with this party," says Dr. Martin Gaybones, Doctor of Gay Studies at the University of Gaysville. "Gay is not an infinite resource, and it's supples are dwindling all the time, thanks to the Gay Pride marches, gay TV shows like 'Queer Eye for the Straight Guy' and 'Will and Grace', and gay singers like that gay one from Boyzone. Elton's party itself will drain a further 0.23% from the gay resources, which may not sound like much, but it may mean another gay man's gay birthday party will only be 'slightly camp' as opposed to 'fully gay.' "
Elton John has refused to comment on Dr. Gaybones' report, but has allegedly agreed to plant several gay trees after his gay party, to help replenish gay stocks.
Gay Elton John's gay birthday party will take place this Sunday, or 'Sungay', as it has now been rechristened.
- Matt X
Anthology of Awful: TERROR Dog
Little dogs.
We love them, don't we? With their little fuzzy faces, their small black noses and tiny paws.
Or do we?
Maybe not, after you hear about the horror that befell one Martin Windpipe...
Martin Windpipe was a lonely man, who lived alone in a small, one-bedroom flat in London. He wanted some company, and so decided to get himself a dog.
He scoured the local pet shops, looking for the perfect canine companion. But he just couldn't seem to find a dog he liked. That is until, quite by accident, Martin Windpipe stumbled across a small shop tucked away in the back streets. He had never seen this particular store before, so decided to give it a shot.
Inside, he found a small, wizened, Chinese man. The Chinese man seemed affable and friendly enough, and set about helping Martin Windpipe find the dog of his dreams. After a short time spent browsing, Martin Windpipe clapped eyes upon the adorable figure of a small hound in a cage. The dog leapt up at the bars, and wagged it's little tail furiously.
Martin Windpipe was overjoyed, and quickly a deal was struck and the dog was his.
"I must warn you," said the shop-keeper as Martin Windpipe left, "do not overfeed this dog, or spoil it with sickly treats...or else...you will come to regret it."
Martin Windpipe smiled, nodded and left, little knowing how important that warning would be...
The pair arrived at Martin's small flat later that afternoon, the little dog having been christened 'Shorty' during the bus-ride home.
"Well, I don't know about you, Shorty, but I could really use a bite to eat," said Martin, rummaging through the cupboards. Shorty wagged his tail in agreement.
Martin Windpipe made Shorty a bowl of dog-food, while he sat down to a meal of steak and chips. As he ate, Shorty finished his meal and padded over to Martin. The little dog sat down, and looked up hungrily at his owner.
"Still hungry, huh, little fellah?" said Martin. "Guess they didn't feed you so well at the shop, huh? Well, here you go."
Martin tossed Shorty some morsels of steak, and a few chips. Shorty eagerly chomped them down.
Later, Martin decided to get some dessert, and so went back to the kitchen and grabbed himself a slice of chocolate cake. As he sat down to enjoy his sweet treat, Shorty scampered across, and eyed the cake with longing eyes.
"My my," said Martin Windpipe. "We are a hungry little doggy tonight, aren't we? Hey, I don't suppose it'll matter if you just have a little bit of cake..." He passed Shorty a small slice of cake, which the dog happily ate.
It would be a slice of cake too far.
Martin Windpipe went to bed, after ensuring Shorty was comfortable and asleep in his new basket. "Goodnight, little pal," said Martin, and retired to his room.
The next morning, Martin Windpipe awoke and blearily staggered into his lounge. He wiped the sleep out of his eyes, and looked around for Shorty.
What he saw HORRIFIED and SICKENED him.
There, in the middle of the lounge, was a pile of dog-poop.
But it gets worse, dear readers. It was not the firm, solid poop. Oh, if only it was that simple. No, readers...it was slightly gooey, and runny.
"Sh-Shorty..." said Martin, as Shorty innocently wandered into the room. "What...what have you done?"
The little dog stared up at his master, and Martin Windpipe swore he could hear the far-off laughter of a Chinaman...
Terrifying, isn't it readers? That's what happens when Man's Best Friend....shits on Man's Best Carpet.
Sleep well.
- The Book-Keeper.
Lord Likely: 'Things I Have Stabbed, Part Two'
22nd March 1856
More things I have stabbed with my trusty fencing sword, over the years...
A Grizzly Bear: When a Chinese Circus (bearing the slogan 'Where Animals Are Beaten For Your Pleasure!') came to town, I was reluctantly dragged along to witness the awful spectacle by a friend of mine, Lord John Ratzenberger, who loved circuses a bit too much, as far as I was concerned.
So we adjourned to the circus, and readied ourselves for an evening of so-called entertainment.
The event passed predictably enough, with a procession of gaudily-dressed, smug wankers carrying out tedious feats of 'danger', until one particular act began, involving a grizzly bear juggling. The bear was clearly as interested in performing as I was in watching, which is to say not very interested at all. His trainer persisted, throwing juggling balls at the poor creature until it finally snapped, and lunged at the man, and bit his hand clean off.
From there, pandemonium ensued, as the bear turned his attention to the audience and began running amok in the stalls. Finally sensing some adventure and excitement, I raced down to join in the fracas and tried to placate the animal, by stabbing him in the head with my sword.
This was an uncharacteristically bad idea on my part, and I was rewarded by a swift paw to the face, which sent me reeling back, dropping my blade in the process.
Weaponless, I decided to take the bear on bare-handed, while he himself remained bear-handed, and so we fought. Fisticuffs with a ferocious bear was, undoubtedly, the most exciting event on the play-bill that night.
I eventually triumphed over the creature, by kicking him in the stomach, then delivering a swift upper-cut to his furry jaw. The animal fell back, knocked out-cold by my powerful swing.
To conclude the night, I stabbed Ratzenberger for daring to bring me along to such a terrible show. He never invited me along again, thank God.
Botter: I have stabbed Botter countless times, as there really is nothing like a sharp-point to the torso to jolt a man-servant into action.
One particular time stays in the memory, when Botter had failed to adequately clean one of my swords.
"Botter," I said, in my sternest tone, "this blade is not sufficiently cleansed. There is still grime and shit all over it."
"Shit?" said Botter.
"Yes, Botter, shit." Then I jammed the blade into Botter's unsuspecting posterior, causing him to yelp in pain. To add further to the comedy, he then flailed around the drawing-room, sword still embedded in his anus, knocking things over with the handle as he stumbled about.
Of course, I made him pick up and clean everything he knocked over, which he did despite the sword still resting in his awful hide.
I did not allow it to be removed for a further three hours.
Another Beggar: They really are cunts, you know.
- Lord Likely.
More Lord Likely...
Lord Likely: 'Things I Have Stabbed, Part One'
March 21st, 1856
As an aristocrat, with money and time in plentiful supply, I like to indulge in various hobbies and entertainments.
One of my favourite past-times is fencing, and many an afternoon I can be found, waving my weapon in another man's face.
I own my very own fencing sword, the use of which is not restricted to sport, I must confess.
Indeed, I like to keep my sword on me at all times, to fend off foes I encounter on my astonishing adventures, or simply to stab things for my own amusement. Here now follows a list of just some of the things that have felt the end of my weapon, and why:
A Wretched Mugger: On the way home from the theatre one evening, I was accosted by an unpleasant chap who wished to relieve me of my valuables. Feeling strongly that this loathsome creature had not done anything worthy to be in possession of such riches as mine, I refused. This angered the yob, who then came at me with a knife. I whipped out my sword, and stabbed him in the leg. He staggered off in much pain, and my solid-gold pocket-watch and I were not parted.
It was quite a night for my young, six-year old self.
Major Chudd-Fuddle: For a period of some three weeks, I courted a lady called Elizabeth Tallytugg, a beautiful creature with smooth, creamy-white skin, a slender, shapely neck and the sort of tits you would be more than happy to allow to smother you to death.
One afternoon, upon deciding to surprise Elizabeth, I arrived at her home only to catch her in bed with Major Chudd-Fuddle, an awful, obese man with a terrible red face. He was balls-deep in Elizabeth's mimsy, so to express my outrage and displeasure, I stabbed Chudd-Fuddle in the bollocks.
He hasn't fathered any children since.
A Beggar: Just because I hate beggars. Bastards, one and all.
I shall continue and conclude this list tomorrow. Now I must go and tend to my blade .
- Lord Likely.
Matt For It: Britney's CAT-alogue of Craziness
Bald-headed pop-starlet Britney Spears seems to be going crazier by the day.
When not shaving her head, or going in and out of rehab, she builds herself a fort made out of tiny cat skulls, according to sources.
Britney...oops she did it again! GEDDIT?
"Britney really has been losing it lately," the source exclusively revealed to me. "She's been building herself this...grotesque fort of skulls, and then populating the fort with tiny fish-soldiers, which are just dead goldfish dressed in tiny suits of armour."
Britney has apparently built the sick mockery of a fort because she fears an attack from "the evil cat empire", reports state. Britney has even gone so far as to take cats who wonder into her garden hostage, and hold them in her self-made POW camp, a box with 'Meowschwitz' written on the side in crayon. She has also named herself 'Queen of the Fish-Men' and made herself a crown out of seaweed.
More news as it comes.
- Matt X
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