'The Christmas': a short introduction

(above: "Wah-wah-wee-wah! Exactly what I needed! Nice one, Santa!")

If you feel you are part of the unfortunate minority in the world who are not British, possibly you might also feel that something is going on during these days in Britain (a.k.a.: birthplace of God Almighty). Indeed: cheesy songs, cheesy lights, cheesy cards, cheesy etc. Indeed (squared) something that locals call it 'the Christmas'.

As you would have imagined yet, 'the Christmas' is a British-exclusive phenomenon. Funnily enough, other countries use the same term to name similar stuff happening at this very same time of the year. These countries, though, in order to justify this phenomenon make use of science-fiction: they tell you the reason why this is happening to commemorate the birth of a baby made out of dairy products, Cheesus - hence all the cheesy stuff going on there.

Nevertheless, this story is complete lie. The truth about 'the Christmas' is owned by the Brits, as usual. Other countries use up this story to cover their innate hatred towards Great Britain and everything it represents. 'The Chirstmas', unlike these other countries claim, was made in order to commemorate the birth of Ronald Harold Christmas Jr. (Wigan, 1958). But what did Mr. Christmas to expand his birth from the North-West of England to the rest of the miserably non-British world?

Ronald Christmas was an unwanted child who was an awful student attending a council school and was always messing about astrological and spiritual stuff. He was very curious about this shite. One time, when he was 13, he managed to contact with the spirit of a man who alive was a child molester in Salford during the sad years of the Postwar subtly nicknamed Satan Claustrophobia. His technique consisted in attracting poor children to his place by buying them appealing presents and leaving them at their doorstep at the end of every December. Those presents had a tag attached: "Satan fancies you! xx". Once these children came to his place, involuntarily started to chant songs about the weather in a choir. Satan Claustrophobia, though, died of a fire a 8-year-old kid set unconsciously to his house, for he did not pay his electricity bills so he had to light candles all across his house.

Christmas kept keeping in touch with this spirit for a long time because he was highly interested in attracting young children to his place, as he was young child too. Ring any bells by now? Well, a young Ronald Christmas was the person in charge of reinventing this paedophile technique to the modern time of 1974. Since he wanted to acknowledge his mentor, the person who brings the presents is misleadingly called Santa Claus. I know. He deliberately changed the name to make it more commercial -and because he didn't know how to spell Claustrophobia. Christmas was also a boy with a business eye.

This model was so successful among the paedophiles across Britain that quickly spread throughout the entire world.

So, now you know what exactly happened. Now think, every time you give a present for the Christmas you do it for a man who used to be naughty to children and a Northerner who gambled with dodgy metaphysical things. Are you sure you still want that iPad?

YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELVES!

Have a merry 'the Christmas'!

THE WELSH PATIENT says: "Is the song 'Santa Claus is coming to town' a warning from Scotland Yard? I knew!"

Demystifying biographies: Yoko Ono

(above: UTTER FRAUD. these blokes kept impersonating the glorious Mancunians all throughout their career. the one in the bottom right thought he was the reincarnation of Liam Gallagher... keep off the dope, man.)

Yoko Ono.

If we ask the man in the street - or the woman on the roof - about this Nipponese character and her contribution to Western culture, he is bound to answer that she is remarkably the one who made the Plastic Ono Band go down the drain. Though other more well-informed people will tell you the she also breached his husband's musical formation: The Bitless or summat.

I'm afraid that everyone missed the point of that woman. Everyone think that she got on the gravy train when she married musician Jack Lemon and started to use her undeserved fame to start ruining random bands, sadly including her own. Music lovers around the globe thought the Plastic Ono Band had plenty more to give to culture. Nevertheless, this is simply untrue. Mrs. Lemon-Ono was born with the gift of musical proficiency and made the Plastics one of the most successful bands of its age. But the days of Ono's band were coming to an end.

It all started in a massive gig in Milton Keynes (Middleoff***ingnowhereshire, England). She was performing an outstanding act of her best-known hit (a cappella version here). During the 9-minute bass solo, the bassist, whose name can be done without, started to slap the 4 strings with his knob and unfortunately electrocuted himself and passed out for several months. Did I mention it was raining and that enhanced the conductivity between the bass and his knob? Well, it was raining. Naturally, the gig was cancelled for obvious reasons.

After this, zillions of fans were concerned about the future of the Plastic Ono Band. The band couldn't do without the bassist whose name can be done without. For that reason, Yoko was forced to hire a new bassist temporarily. She called for an audition to look for a new bassist. Response was multitudinous. However, every contender was 3 times worse than the previous one.

Eventually, when they were about to throw in the towel and announce the discontinuation of the band, like in an American film, an old lady sneaked in the audition room, picked the 4-string chopper and started slapping it all over the place wickedly. She was left-handed: Yoko and her Medieval mind saw that as an asset to identify the band with Satan and immediately hired her without thinking it twice.

With this new left-handed bassist, the Plastic Ono Band completed a more than successful tour around Anglesey (North-West Wales), selling out every single ticket for each gig. The new bassist was now completely integrated into the band and now they let her make decisions for the band. This was a fatal mistake.

Before a gig at a centre for people with mental diseases in Scarborough, the old lady suggested Yoko to play their top hit with an ukulele instead of an acoustic guitar on the basis that the ukulele would give a more exotic approach to the song. Unfortunately, Yoko acceded. So Yoko went up to the stage with the ukulele attached to her. The cheering audience became silent all of a sudden. Unknowingly, Yoko tuned the first riffs for her top hit. The audience started to boo her loud.

Yoko was confused but then she realised. The ukulele was the instrument used to offend people with mental diseases. An evil laughter came from behind. It was that old lady who played the bass. IT TURNED OUT TO BE PETER MCKENNA, the bassist for the other band she is accused to break up, the Meatles or summit, and who played with his husband.

Local musical press began to slag her band off very harshly and then she quitted.

Yoko Ono is currently very busy being a fraud in the visual arts.

Peter McKenna, proud of his action, still today dresses like an old lady.

*Names have been subtly modified in order not to face sexual action from the solicitors of the people involved*

THE WELSH PATIENT says: "I own a bass; it's called Red Iosif in honour to my moustache hero: Iosif Stalin"

The Erasmus discourse

(above: "iiiiiin ma countrrrry I get lotta woman in ma beeed! I do'now why I do no get woman here" well... it might be because you are not used to the language)

Recently I have been making an effort by mixing with some people from overseas in an exchange programme. No, don't worry. I just have been doing so for one single scientific reason: I was researching whether the claims of having sexual intercourse more often than average by those people were true or not.

Results were: obviously not.

However, during my deep and professional research I stumbled upon something which was far more interesting than that, because such intercourse can be seen every afternoon on Discovery Channel. And it was that during their period abroad, exchange students develop a strange mechanism that allow them to make whatever they want and get away with. After a few relieving teas (the new official name for w***s), my team of researchers, i.e. myself and a real-size cardboard cut-out of Simon Cowell, came up with the name of such phenomenon: THE ERASMUS DISCOURSE.

The Erasmus discourse consists of a simple linguistic formula that plays with the cultural ignorance of the interlocutor and allow the user of this technique get away with whichever bollocks he or she (or most often it) just have done. The formula goes as follows:

ED = In my country (or The name of such country) + is typical to + bollocks you have done + because in my country if you (bollocks you have done in passive) + positive consequences of such bollocks

E.g.:

Country = Spain

Bollocks to be got away with = Burp on a lady's face

Positive consequences = You must get laid with that person for that night

ED = In my country (Spain) is typical to burp on a lady's face because in my country, if you are burped on your face, you must get laid with that person for that night.

The most common usage of the Erasmus discourse is to get away with the most bizarre actions ever known to man and ask the other person to go to bed with them, basically. SO THAT'S WHERE THE MYTH (I BUSTED) COMES FROM!

I am still waiting for a call from the Royal Swedish Academy...

THE WELSH PATIENT says: "In my country is typical to carry kidnapped women in a wheelbarrow because in my country if you are kidnapped and carried in a wheelbarrow, you must be offered to the gods in a pagan ceremony"

Revisiting the genius

(above: for the very first time in this blog, the opening picture is IRRELEPHANT to the post)

Most of the time, I come up with things, I write them down and I rarely read them again. Today it has been one of these rare occasions.

The following bits are part of the scripts I used to write for an actual radio show last year. More precisely, the advice I used to give to the audience at the end of every show.

'This week's advice is: if a foreign tourist comes to you and ask you for a direction, even though he might be saying the right words, pretend not to understand him or her until he doesn't get the proper accent. English is a language that you learnt by heart, foreigners are no exception. That's called DE-MO-CRA-CY'

'My advise for this week is: if you want to flirt with German exchange students, don’t bother learning German language, boast about your knowledge in German history. Try to mention at least once in every sentence facts about Nazism. Germans love it when some foreigner knows that much about history of their own country. Trust me. That’s called Multiculturalism.'

'And now, as usual, I give some advice to the country, but this time, because we are doing the Christmas Special, I’m forced to give my advice to the children in the nation. Children, now it’s Christmas and I’m pretty sure that you want as many presents as you want. The best way to get loads of them is by being insistent about it. Don’t take a ‘no’ for an answer. Shout out loud, cry in the middle of the street, insult your parents and hit your younger brother. Only this way you’ll get your beloved presents. You need to have your ideas 100% clear; otherwise, adults just will keep you telling what to do every time. Children: shout, cry, insult and hit. You shall be rewarded'

'My advice for this week is: please insult elderly people. They’ll love it. Particularly when you are discussing different points of view in politics or religion. Shout at them and say things like ‘Shut up, scum’. Do it. The world will be a much better place.'

'People of God's nation, don’t waste your time going to the library. Library is for has-beens. If you want to read something interesting and cultivating, why not reading The Sun or The Daily Mail? By doing that, not only you’ll become intelligent but also informed people aware of what really is important to this country's fate. Did you know that Cheryl Cole has dyed her hair platinum? Did you not? That’s because you go to the library. Believe me.'

Can you see a pattern in this advice? Indeed: truthfulness.

THE WELSH PATIENT says: 'Some people say Ringo Starr is the annoying Beatle. Well, they're wrong! McCartney looks like my nan and, since they stopped releasing new solo material, Lennon and Harrison have had some serious issues with their body odour'

Top 5 statements during the student riots at Millibank Tower

(above: 'I say, let me go. I have got a seminar on Baroque Art in half an hour. Oh, blind me, this is rather inconvenient, I say.')

The riots perpetrated by students at the Conservative Campaign Headquarters in Millibank Tower, London will make international news for sure. And we all know how international journalists are: 'I might be French and my armpit smells wrong but Brits are slightly worse than us', 'I am Italian and I shag underage girls but Brits are not as good as they used to be' or 'We the Spanish are a bit promiscuous, ignorant, loud, lazy arses... I forgot, what was the point again?' are going to be the headlines tomorrow in these various countries.

On the other hand, though, they will miss the whole point of it: the memorable quotes put forward by university students, the intellectual elite of the country of God, during that riot:

5- "It is so UNFAIR!" (He should be appointed as the president of the Debate Society in his university)

4- "Fascist-a pigs-a! My-a money-a!" (This student comes from a countryside region where there is loads of far-right swine... Italy?)

3- "Maggie, Maggie, Maggie! Out, out, out!" (This one is a miner from Doncaster who has been frozen for 25 years)

2- "And then I chundered everywhere" (Crates of Stella Artois are more of a priority than tuition fees. Obv.)

1- "Please, would you kindly leave the premises? These antics are despicable and POINTLESS." (Indeed. He is an Oxbridge student)

BONUS: "WHY DON'T YOU GO A FEW YARDS FURTHER THERE WHERE THERE ARE MANY MORE PEOPLE MARCHING PEACEFULLY?" (Real student to Sky News)

THE WELSH PATIENT says: "Sticks and stones may break bones, but students break party headquarters"

Digital type machine (computer) shite (social networks). Today: TWATTER

(above: bennymusso69: @alliedpowers you wankers lol)

New technologies allow us to share our feelings about things around us that are happening in the world because things in the world change like people and that through social networks. BOLLOCKS! In fact, far more than 'bollocks'- anyone who claims this must be banned from live, although it might mean a harsh downturn for yoga centres in Western culture. For instance, we could we talking about Tw(a)tter as a place for sharing feelings.

Luckily, if Tw(a)tter was a porn film character would be that smart businessman whereas Facebook or MySpace would be the rough plumber or pizza deliverer. Nonetheless, and let me go on with the same comparison, despite the fact that the plumber or the pizza deliverer are quite predictable at banging your brains out, the smart businessman is going to do so anyway because, beloved readers, porn film characters end up bumming the other one regardless their suit -at the beginning of the feature-. And this is well applicable to social networks, you just need to think outside the box: once you unravel the outer social network suit, they are going to bum you, as a user, anyway.

Tw(a)tter, starring as the smart businessman, may look wittier and camper than any other social network due to its big deal of high-brow users such as Stephen Fry, John Cleese or many journalists blathering about stuff in less than 140 characters in the form of a clever statement or joke about Down Syndromes in order to impress their readership (or 'followers', as a sort of a religious fanaticism). However, on the other hand, you have potential and very compelling paedophiles and terrorists that through their mischievous statements they force you to fall into their trap.

Indeed, I was once a victim of those. Due to their misleading techniques, under the premise 'Utterly brilliant. A must-see trailer!' and a shrunk url link I can't exactly recall, I first watched '1 man 1 jar'. I can still feel the (his) pain. Fortunately, at this very instance I wasn't the one with greater damage in my cyber-bottom.

Have a good day, you all bunch of infantile pillocks!

THE WELSH PATIENT says: "RT @mostpeoplewhoreadthis the welsh patient is revolting as a whole. <- I know. I'd rather score some dope and rape elderly ppl instead."

Junkies are fun, innit?

(above: 'tomoz evening I'm gunna quit charlie.' well done, kate! reading snoopy at your age wasn't good for your mental development)

Since the dawn of mankind, human beings have always needed somebody to look down on and laugh at in the most disgusting way. Cavemen had crippled, Greeks and Romans had crippled with mental diseases and Medieval people had crippled with mental and skin diseases. However, since the dawn of prostheses, the number of crippled has been slowed down yet made up and the man of this day and age has run out of humourous outcasts.

This is why, I took the liberty of doing research by myself and find the new kind of these, the working class of hilarity. At first, I tried to find the ever-lasting crippled community among us to see whether I could return their place in history. I could not. I did my best, though: I stole protheses all over the place, I put shopping trolleys at every parking lot provided for this collective, I addressed to everyone with any physical disease with derogatory terms in the rudest way possible but no effort was fruitful.

Nonetheless, when I was released from prison, some bloke high on *sweets* came to me and asked me for some change. I was so happy then I gave him a fiver. When he saw the Queen's face on that green disease-packed paper he got so over the top that he pissed on his pants. This made my head lightbulb turn on, I was fondly amused by this broad daylight live sketch. So I thought drug addicts could be the pariah of laughter of the 21st century. Yes, sir! I would like to ask you that whenever you encounter one of these wanting some spare change for a train ticket to Bridgend or for a birthday cake, give them a big fat amount of cash. You won't regret, I bet you will get a big deal of humour or knife stabbings, you patronising middle-class bastards.

Have a good day!

THE WELSH PATIENT says: 'Did you know that now I hold 51% of shares in Microsoft? Yes, it's been tough work... Bill Gates is not that easy to stab!'