Son of a bitch...

I just found out that some prick has stolen the title of my blog. I mean, who else on this earth would ever think to put the words Chainsaw and Zombie together, I don't know. But the designers of Doom 3 did, the twats.
Here's their (infinitely more lame) version of a Chainsaw Zombie:



I mean... wtf? How lame is that. That's not a Chainsaw Zombie. Thats a brown fat bald turd with no nipples, a stupid chainsaw/penis, and camp as hell pair of leatherette boots. Its more of a LAMEsaw Zombie. Did you see what I did there? Did you? I just took the word 'Chainsaw' (inherently cool), and TURNED IT ON IT'S HEAD to form the insulting 'Lamesaw', which, I thought, was jolly hilarious. Yeah.
The more I look, the more it disgusts me. This guy is a disgrace to all the proper zombies out there and, as such, should be thrown into an industrial mincer full of angry hornets, covered in honey. In fact, NO. That would give it attention. It should be in the far, far, FAR distance of the huge zombie crowd scenes, where nobody without an electron microscope can see it. Thats the only thing THE ONLY thing that this creature warrants in the zombie world. In fact, it should be a werewolf, or a haunted scarecrow, or an insane monster, or a fuckin' mummy, one of the other lame movie monsters out there that are inherently uncool and, as such, can be screwed with as much as the Doom Designers like. Just keep this abomnation away from the proper zombies who have a job to do (wandering around in a comical fashion, bumping into each other, falling over, and very slowly catching/eating stupid old ladies with wooden hips).

This is what the Doom 3 Monsters Guide (I wasn't on there, I swear, I'm not a loser. Oli G found it, probably while searching for a chainsaw to go out and cut down some trees in his part-time job as a lumberjack: he is that manly) had to say about this sorry matter.

During your adventure on mars you'll learn that Chainsaws were accidently delivered on Mars, in which you'll later find zombies wielding the chainsaws... Chainsaw Zombies!
Unlike their counterparts Chainsaw Zombies can pack a punch, however their range is very limited and not to be feared.

Firstly, why the FUCK would you ever 'accidentally deliver chainsaws' to a planet? Do you know how much effort goes into a shuttle launch? They don't train the astronauts, design + build the spacecraft, fill it with chainsaws, set up the launchpad, hire all the workers, start up the computer system, clear the sky, launch the rocket, programmed to go to Mars, by accident. Its the kind of dipshit thing that even the American's couldn't pull off (ooh, topical humour, aren't I great?) So, yeah. Any why didn't Mars have any chainsaws beforehand? As, apparently, this planet is the home of the living dead, its the one thing you DO need. Chainsaws. Chainsaws.
Secondly: NOT TO BE FEARED? Its a ZOMBIE... WITH A CHAINSAW. They are the most terrifying beasts on earth. Count Dracula? A chainsawified (new word, there) zombie could take him. Darth Vadar? Screwed. Batman? Dead. Captain Scarlet? In hospital (he can't be killed, being the manly man he is). In fact, the only people I could ever consider taking a Chainsaw Zombie are Oli Gill and Hunter S. Thompson.

Hunter Thompson is a DUDE. He is probably one of the most hilarious writers I have ever read. Basically, his books revolve around him getting totally shitfaced and having wild and crazy adventures with violent and possibly psychotic people (ie. The Hells Angels, his Attorney, a guy trying to sell him a monkey). And when he died, his ashes were shot out of a cannon. Can you get much cooler than that? No. You fucking can't, no matter how hard you try.

So, in conclusion, this fella:



is a total dipshit, and should never be allowed the title of Chainsaw Zombie. This, children, is what a proper Chainsaw Zombie looks like:



... with any body. That guy could take the Lamesaw Zombie, any day of the week. Yeah. Hell, it would just have to look at it, with those cool red eyes and the lamesaw would piss itself and waddle off to annoy somebody else.

Honourary zombie killer: Roy, the PROPER Chainsaw Zombie, not the pansy imitator.

Waiting for a bus is like waiting for a BABY

Things I did yesterday:

Visited a concentration camp in Berlin, that was under construction
Watched some Germans attempt to build a guard tower for said concentration camp
Saw some men drilling books
Wore the mask of a fictional comic-book terrorist, then danced about in my SEXY hoodie
Unsuccessfully tried to sneak into a theme park
Saw TWO film stars... well, one star and one demi-star
Watched the destruction of the Old Bailey to music
Saw many artworks

So, basically, my day on the V for Vendetta sets was pretty well spent. Man, that film is gonna kick so much ass. And I saw Natalie Portman. Hell, I could have run up and stabbed her, if I'd had a knife, or had wanted to. But seriously, she is SO SMALL. Its like, a sudden wind would blow her away. She is like Emma. Except she's fit, and doesn't love Mike. EMMA LOVES MIKE. Raise your hand if you didn't see THAT shocker coming. NOBODY. So that's... what? FIVE relationships that I've set up, now? They should name all the kids after me. Hahahhaha... Imagine the kids between Emma and Mike. That's gonnna be ODD. A slight, tall, afroed black man who looks like a cat and has no tits. But still, cudos to me for setting it up in the first place. Christ, I'm a better matchmaker than this girl:



Ahhahahahah. That picture is so damn funny. Tom Cruise has really gone downhill. And why do they have a ball of wool? And what's so damn funny? The picture says 'Single Father', so the woman can't be the mother. So she's a skanky girlfriend/sister, and is therefore not the girl's birth mother. OR... she is the mother, and is about to be hit by an 18 wheeler/fall off a cliff/be killed by the chinese mafia/run away with the milkman, get aids, then die slowly and painfully/all of the above. Actually, that would rule. Then the dad loses it, Man on Fire stylee, and goes on a rampage of revenge... you know, that book could actually rule. Well, it would if it was done the way I'd do it.

AND IT SAYS SUPER ROMANCE AT THE TOP. What the FUCK is a Super-Romance? Like, cupid flying about, kicking nine shades of shit out of everybody, then saving the world from the evil Monkor, who is, as we all know, eeeeevil. Fuck me, I want to read that book now. Let me find a synopsis online:

In Ridge City, Tennessee, widower Alan Ridge, CEO of Windridge Distillery, worries about his nine year old daughter who severely injured her back in the car accident that killed his wife. Louemma has successful surgery, but shows no signs of healing and her doctors insist her problems are psychosomatic.
Divorced from an alcoholic spouse, weaver Laurel Ashline has moved to her late grandmother's home in Ridge City. She provides weaving therapy to patients who need help for their arms and wrists. Alan's grandmother decides that Laurel is perfect to help her great-granddaughter and forces Alan to agree to the therapy. As Laurel reaches inside to Louemma beyond the loom, she learns the guilty secret that has incapacitated the child even as she falls in love with the two Ridges.

The main character is a fucking WEAVER, the lamest of the professions. I rest my case.

AND NOW I AM IN ENGLAND. Fun beans. For about three days... I go to fucking Amsteram on the 2nd. For the rowing camp. I would rather be back at the concentration camp. No JOKE. Anyway, I have a sexy Berlin fleece, and might go get a haircut later on, and them I shall watch One Flew Over the Cuckoos nest. And God bless me too.

Zombie weapons are starting to annoy me now. Uh... hammer?

The rest of France...

Yeah, I can't be bothered to finish blogging the rest of France properly, as it would be another four or five LONG mofos of posts, and nobody really cares. Well, if they do, screw 'em. I can't be arsed.
So here's a list of amusing things that happened each day, for those who CARE. Losers.

Monday 21st
I had a nightmare about doing a Chemistry paper. Look, Chemistry papers are fucking scary, ok? I hate them. Etc.
I had to go into French school.
Miles related how he hates fish, and yet THAT'S ALL THE FAMILY SERVED. Ahahahaha... spacker.
Curryyyyyyyy showed up. And Naidu too.
The Physics teacher, in an act of educational skill that surpasses Henry (Popeye), didn't show up to the lesson, so we pissed of and played table football instead. Man, the French are good at that game; they actually have tactics, as opposed to the traditional English 'just kick it really hard and hope it goes in' method, which I've found is very useful. Amusingly, playing against them, they only one ...

TO BE CONTINUED