Hurray for guacamole!

Guacamole* is the most delicious thing ever. It really is. It goes with anything. If I could, I would just eat guacamole all day and all night, with everything and on top of everything. I'm not being ironic.** Guacamole really is the tastiest thing ever. For those of you who don't know what guacamole tastes like, just imagine eating your favourite meal. Go on, anything. The tastiest thing you can possibly imagine. Ok, done that? Right, then mentally multiply the deliciousity by about, say, 100,000,000,000. THAT is how tasty guacamole is. Seriously, its delicious.

If I could be any food, do you know what I'd be? Guacamole. Well, thinking about it, NOT guacamole, because it's so delicious that it would soon get eaten by hungry passers by and then I'd cease to be. Instead I'd be something that goes WITH the guacamole, say a piece of steak or a chilli flavoured mexican tortilla chip, so that my last moments on earth could be surrounded in a big bowl of the green stuff. And when I say green stuff, I mean guacamole.

And now, a few words on the HISTORY of guacamole. Seriously, why they don't teach this stuff at school I don't know. Instead I have like four essays on the frickin Nazis to do. What's so impressive about the Nazis? So they nearly wiped out the entire jewish population in Europe? Big woop, there's a lot of difference between NEARLY and COMPLETELY. They just didn't go for that last push to the finish line. Laziness, that's what I call it. I don't see why I should be writing an essay on a lazy regime that wasn't quite prepared to stretch itself to the max to Get the Job Done. Show me a master-race that's successful in totally wiping out an ethnic group, and I'll show you some essays. But I continue:

Guacamole was invented back in 1883 by a poor Mexican family in the town of 'Las Ninas Del Maria Madre De Christo El Hermano del Perro de Franco del Tengo una Bocadilla'. Of course, back then, it was known as guacamole. Fun fact: The mexican family were originally looking for an inexpensive alternative to God, but instead stumbled across the most delicious thing ever. After the initial discovery, guacamole was banned by the British for being just too delicious, so cartels of guacamole dealers were set up all across Southern America, giving it out in teeny-tiny amounts. A mexican would work, picking beans, for years on end, just to save up for a single teaspoon of guacamole. Of course, all this fast-trading of guacamole soon led to the nasty 'Guacamole war' of 1914-18 in Europe. However, once people learnt how to make the delicious guacamole, the guacamole dealers were put out of business and went back to cocaine. Over the years, guacamole has been used in medecines (notably, the infamous 'Grandpa Max's Guacamole Tonic', which was 30% Guacamole and 70% octopus), alcoholic beverages, building materials, as holy water, cut with cocaine and even as a cheap replacement for petrol in Mexican cities. Those crazy Mexicans. In fact, it was once even used to execute an inmate in a prison in Texas. Later, however, guacamole executions were scrapped for budget reasons. A sad day for us all.

More guacamole facts:

• There is a shade of paint known as 'guacamole green'. In fact, the entire sky of the Sistine Chapel Ceiling is in guacamole green. It looks blue because of a clever system of colour contrasts and shadow effects.


• It's a strong aphrodisiac, especially when eaten with seaweed.


• Guacamole is delicious with the following things: Steak, lamb, chips, crisps, pringles... basically anything.


• Good guacamole is always lumpy and chunky, yet still deliciously smooth. A strange paradox, for sure, it's driven many men mad trying to describe its texture.


• Never buy pots of guacamole from supermarkets. Supermarket guacamole contains bleach in an attempt to poison unwary guacamole-addicted Mexicans. And it tastes shit. ALWAYS make it yourself.


• The following bands suck: Snow Patrol, Green Day, and Hard Fi. This has nothing to do with guacamole, but I don't think that anybody's complaining.


• Scientists are unable to class guacamole into a food-group. Is it a dip? Is it a sauce? Is it a complement? Is it a food in its own right? Nobody knows. It's one of the great unanswered mysteries of the universe, along with the Easter Island Sculptures and penguins. Personally, I think that guacamole counts as food in its own right, just because I can imagine myself making a 10 gallon drum of it and then gorging myself until I turn guacamole-green, but then again, there are those who are convinced that it's a paste. Freaks.


• Guacamole actually has nothing to do with guaca moles, which are a small type of underground dwelling rodents that live in southern Bradford.


• In the zombie movie 'Dawn of the Dead', guacamole was used to get the correct blood effect.


• Guacamole is actually the most fat free foodstuff about. No jokes, it has less fat per gram than rice-bread.


• There's a special medical condition for Not Liking Guacamole. It's called Being dead.


• Because of its deliciousness, guacamole is banned in Australia, France, Sweden and New Mexico

My recipe for making guacamole
By now you should be wanting to have some of this delicious stuff yourselves. WELL GUESS WHAT, YOU'RE IN LUCK. Here's my master's guide to making guacamole:

You will need: One avocado, some small tomatoes, an onion, some hot chillis, salt, some pixie dust, and a sharp knife.
1: Peel the avocado. The skin should come off nice and easily. If it doesn't, and if the flesh of the avocado is hard and unyielding, you should get another avocado. If you don't have another avocado, use the crappy one, but be aware that your guacamole might be a touch weird. De-stone the avocado. Wave the knife about and go AYUH, I AM JACKIE CHAN.
2: Slice the onion into itty bitty pieces. Same goes with the tomato and the chillis. Put them to one side.
3: Oh my god, I'm giving out a recipe on my blog. I'm like Jamie Oliver or something. Except without the AIDS.
4: Take your two halves of avocado, then slice them into quarters, then eighths, then sixteenths. Then just chop the shit out of what you have left. The consistency of the avocado should be such that you can slice through with little/no pressure. Some people like to use a food liquidiser to chop up the avocado. These people are stupid. Do not listen to them. Listen to me. For I am the guacamole king.
5: Mix in the onion, tomato and chilli bits. Add a twist of salt.
6: Chop everything together. You should pretty soon get a nice paste. Whatever you do, don't chop too finely. Remember: you should be able to trowel it around with your knife, but it shouldn't be too fine. Chunky is good.
7: Once you're done, eat the guacamole. I prefer to take it into a cupboard and eat it jealously and quickly with my fingers, making sure that nobody is around to steal my precious, precious guacamole, but you could use crisps or something. It's also good with steak.

Hurrah for guacamole!

*Pronounced guacamole.
**If I was being ironic, I'd say something like "Well I sure want to see the new 50 Cent movie, in which I'm sure he gives an amazing performance and is paid a decent amount of money that he fully deserves due to his massive amount of talent" and then I'd laugh heartily and post a picture like this:

But I'm not being ironic. So there was no point in even saying that. Or making that picture.

And now welcome... DJ YEAH!

I was watching Blue Peter today. Not through choice, you see, but because I was waiting for Harold's Half Hour* to come on, and I couldn't leave the room because I was fixing my bike's inner-tube. I realised halfway through that the hole in the inner-tube was impossible to patch up successfully, but I was having so much fun at that point that I just poured a load of the rubber-glue mixture onto it then grated some nice blue chalk and left it at that, but that's a story for another day, possibly after the wheel spectacularily explodes, causing me to head-butt the road**.

Anyway, I was watching Blue Peter, and this little kid comes on and starts 'DJ'ing on some 'decks'. He was really 'throwing down' some 'phat' 'beats'. I truly felt like 'hitting the dancefloor' and 'dancing' to the 'music'. Then after he was finished, the resident Blue Peter twat presenter came on and complimented him for like twenty minutes, before putting on some really rockin' music (no, it wasn't Linkin Park***, it was Old McDonald Had a Farm... not a joke) and mixing really badly for a bit. Well, I say mixing badly as though I have any idea what mixing well sounds like... but I assume that it doesn't sound like that. Then he congratulated this little 8 year old kid on being able to master this skill, then they all waved at the camera and acted really happy.

This annoyed me for several reason. Firstly, the little kid was crappy at DJ ing. I mean, it was just the same sound over and over again. I thought proper DJs did songs and shit, and sing. They don't just make some record go 'yeah wha-' over and over again. That doesn't require skill, just general hand to eye co-ordination. I mean, a guy with no legs could do it, and it's a commonly held fact that the only thing that guys with no legs are good at is keeping doors propped open. And to be honest, no matter how many lame-o little dance moves you do while 'scratching' the 'decks', it doesn't change the fact that all you're doing is moving some bits of plastic back and forth.

Secondly was the way that they all idolised this little kid for being 8 and being able to DJ mediocrely. ONLY EIGHT, AND ALREADY NOT BEING VERY GOOD AT AN URBAN SPORT. The little chap had chosen the name 'DJ YEAH' for himself. Because he's a DJ, and he says 'yeah' a lot, I guess. Woah, man, I just got a headrush from all the originality. DJ Yeah. If I was a DJ I'd call myself DJ Thomas. Or DJ Dinner Jacket. Or DJ Hitler. Or MC Swivel-Post. Or DJ YOUR MUM. Or MC Squared Equals E. Or Archduke Ferdinand. Or even just DJ Dance Music Sucks. But this isn't a post about how much dance music sucks. It's actually a post about how much I dislike talented children.

Immediately after DJ Yeah left they introduced another little kid, some little pikey gyppo waste of space called Callum or something who spent his time boxing and writing poems. He was obviously a few brain cells short of a fully working intelligent brain, but the presenter was all really impressed at his shitty piece of poetry, which sounded something like this:

Different, by some pikey kid
I'm so lonely
Walking along the street people laugh at me
Different different different
Differnet different
I wipe away a tear
I want to be brave
Different different different different
But it's what inside that's important

It went on like this for a while. It was crap. Where's the rhythmic structure? What about the iambic pentameter? I bet if Shakespears was around to listen to this crappy piece of poetry, he'd roll around in his grave. Listen, gypsy-boy, this is not good work. You obviously tried your best, and in the eyes of me, you were found WANTING. Now piss off and make me a martini.

And another thing. If you don't want people to call you a fucking gypsy, DON'T go on Blue Peter talking about how you're a gypsy and how you live in a caravan and how everybody hates you cos you're different. And way to dispell the idea that all gypsies are stupid drunken brawling hippies by conducting your interview:

• Doing situps in the campsite with a bunch of mangy dogs


• Sitting on a manky sofa IN a caravan with an obviously disgusted presenter


• At a boxing club

He was a moron. But what does it matter? He was just a little kid, so everyone was highly impressed at his achievements (joining a boxing club and slaughtering the English language). Why? When you break it down, he wasn't THAT interesting. Like, he wasn't particulary good at boxing, and other than that, his only selling points were that he lived in a caravan and probably stole garden gnomes and set fire to dogs in his spare time. Big woop. I could take up boxing and write a stupid poem if I wanted to. Do you reckon Blue Peter would come and film me? Why, I think NOT. Hey, look at me, I got 9/10 A*s in my GCSEs and I'll probably go on to have a career that isn't working in a junk yard with all the other pikey kids. Gimme a Blue Peter badge. Actually, screw it, I'll just punch my little sister in the head and take hers.

Another example: everyone's always really impressed when babies start talking. I can talk, look at me. Hell, I'm probably much smarter than your baby. And I can run faster than it too. I could probably drop kick it, then run and catch it on the second bounce, that's how much faster I am. I RULE.

Basically, children who display any sort of skill in anything annoy me. Like there's this twat in my year at school who's like the best canoeist in Britain or something. I've never met him, never said a word to him, but I dislike him at a base and elemental level. And those 8 year old twats who spend their childhoods getting top A-levels in things like maths. WELL DONE BOYS, YOU HAVE AN A LEVEL IN THE MOST BORING SUBJECT EVER, NOW YOU CAN GO TO UNIVERSITY EARLY AND NOT BE VERY POPULAR AND NOT HAVE A CHILDHOOD. Rinsed. I guess it's because I'm of the opinion that everybody younger than me should be worse at me at everything. It's like one of those universal facts that I wish was true, just to make the world just that little bit saner. BUT IT NEVER HAPPENS. I can't even fix a damn bike tyre without rubber-moulding my fingers together. I bet there's some 6 year old out there with his own bike-maintenance garage. Well, fuck him. His testicles haven't even dropped yet. AT LEAST I CAN SING TENOR. Well, I can't really, but its within my physical capabilities, right? I don't care.

BUT GOOD NEWS, EVERYBODY: THE NEW BLUE PETER KITTEN HAS DIED IN A MYSTERIOUS AND TRAGIC ACCIDENT. I'm not joking, that actually put a smile on my face when I found out. Am I an evil person? Well I cackled when I found out about Hurricane Rita, so odds are that I am.

*Insert image of a kitten exploding here.

*AKA Neighbours, AKA the best show EVAR, AKA shut up.
**Which, coincidentally, is what happened to my dear matey Oliver. Except apparently 'the back wheel fell off', and instead of just taking the cool manly pain, apparently he whinged about it a lot to his girlfriend and got loads of sympathy. Did I mention that this was the SECOND time in a week that he'd fallen off his bike? What a fucking retard. But we all love you really, Oli. We love you so much. We hope that you and us never has to end. We love you. So much. Mwah mwah mwah baby.
***Come on, this is a KID'S TV SHOW. Do you really want to blow the collective minds of the entire nation by playing Linkin P at teatime?)

This post was brought to you by retarded looking scanned Spider Man:

Ooh, just look at him with his extra chromosone.

Very little of the below post makes much sense. Just accept it and move on with your lives.

The most retarded mascot in the entire world:

Quicky, the Nesquik Bunny



1: Just look at him. What a twat.

2: What kind of crappy name is Quicky? Seriously, who the fuck thought up the name for this thing? I bet whoever it was got paid a suitcase full of money for taking the second syllable of the product and adding a 'y'. Its like those guys who had to come up with a new name for the university in Exeter, got paid £20,000 and came up with "Exeter University" or "The University of Exeter". Except that's the sort of inspired lameness that I can look up to, even admire. Naming your mascot 'Quicky' is not.
A list of other possible names for this cunt:

• Nessie.


• Nesquikky.


• Choco-ricky-quicky.


• Bruce.


• Choco the Bunny.


• Efram the Retarded Rabbit.


• Arnold.

3: I just plain don't like Nestle. And not just because of the accent in the name that means that I can't type it on blogger for fear that it'll end up a big turd of HTML nonsense, but also because apparently they sold poison milk to schoolchildren. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for killing young children. I'm just against their infuriating attempts to re-ingratiate themselves with society.
Nestle, you got caught poisoning african babies, yeah? Yeah? Sure, it was a 'mistake'. I believe you, ok? Stop pretending it didn't happen with your 'Nestle and Africa' Schemes and your charity drives and all your corporate bullshit*. Accept the fact that you're a bunch of murdering cunts - stop trying to be the ex-paedophile at the materinity ward - SOME US STILL REMEMBER YOU AND YOUR CLOWN COSTUME. Don't try and hide your past. Accept it. Run with it. Make a feature of it. Be PROUD of your pro-profit anti-babies nature. Start genocidal programs. Have boxes covers showing Quicky napalming fleeing bushmen. "For ever box of Nesquik you buy, one of our highly trained mercenaries will be able to rape 14 women, ethnically cleanse 4 hamlets and play volleyball with the bodies of 54 murdered babies". It'd please me.** And you could even grind up the dead bodies and make Nesquik Extra (the added ingredient is PEOPLE)- but I think that I've gone too far already. To be honest I probably went too far about ten sentences ago, but then I was hit by my wave of imagination and I just couldn't stop the beat.

4: He's a rabbit. Woah, man, I'm getting a headrush from all the originality that's being THROWN around here. A BROWN rabbit, exactly the same colour as Co-Co Pops Monkey. Did that monkey have a name? Or is he too locked in his eternal battle with the dark forces of Krafty Krok to bother with such things as names? I'm not complaining, there's a certain refreshingness about a monkey with no name. Hey, at least Co-Co Monkey is cool. He has a dangerous edge. I can imagine Co-Co Monkey going rabid and killing a bunch of japanese tourists before being tranquilised and destroyed by park rangers. He has that dangerous side to him. But Quiky the rabbit? He's... a... sodding... RABBIT. God's evolutionary dead end. And not just any rabbit, A BIOLOGICALLY RETARDED RABBIT. He stands up straight. He wears clothes. He probably lives in a REALLY COOL PAD, in dowtown Cerealsville, with all his cereal-mascot friends (crappy ones, like the bee on Honey Nut Cheerios - none of the GOOD mascots like Quicky). He even has fingers. RABBITS DON'T HAVE FINGERS. THEY DON'T HAVE THUMBS EITHER. RABBITS DON'T WEAR CLOTHES. THEY LIVE UNDERGROUND AND EAT THEIR OWN POO.

5: The pitiful attempt to make Quicky*** 'urban' and 'cool', 'in touch with the youthful demographic' with his wearing of 'hip' yellow 'b-ball' clothes, 'wicked' baggy jeans and even the ultimate touch of wicked negro-related style- a BASEBALL CAP ON BACKWARDS. Yes, you heard me. That backwards baseball hat says it all. This is a rabbit who don't take no shit from no-one. With his hat backwards he'll really take any of you down a peg for messin' with his flooow.
This really pisses me off. Lame corporate raping of youthful subcultures, taking only the most superfluous aspects and then brutally exploiting them until it no longer becomes cool and in fact becomes embarassing. I bet if you asked Quiky what music he likes he'd say 'rock n roll'. AND THEN THEY'D PICTURE HIM WITH A GUITAR, JUST TO FUCK UP ANOTHER THING THAT HAD TO TAKE ITS SWEET TIME TO BE COOL. "I'm Quiky****, I listen to non-threatening girly rock like BUSTED or MCFLY or GREEN DAY!"
Man I'd like to play Quicky a bit of LINKIN PARK. The L-Pizzle boys would seriously BLOW HIS PUNY MIND. Some of the rockin' links those LP Boyz throw down... man, the lyrics of 'One Step Closer' made me rethink my life, put down the bottle of aspirin and get a job as a full time rocker. And it's not just being able to PLAY the music, Quikky. That means nothing. It's knowing WHY IT NEEDS TO BE PLAYED. That's what Linkin Park have got down: they know that we NEED them to just break the contraints of our meaninglessly corporate society, and so they play their delicious blend of nu-gritty-grindhouse-rock-with-occasional-ghetto-beats-from-the-main-man-Jay-Zee day in and day out. They rock night and day so we don't have to. And yet, here's some shitty little rabbit demeaning and crapping all over that. SHAME ON YOU, QUIKY. YOU SUCK.

There. Quikky, you have been well and truly PWNED!

Wow, I just wasted 45 minutes rinsing a cartoon bunny. Good job I don't have an English Literature essay on how Bram Stoker achieves tension in chapters 1-4 of Dracula to do, eh?

*Oh man, the corporations, man, they're EVERYWHERE, man. I'll be forced to listen to some Linkin Park just to get the stink of authoritarian conformism out of my skin pores. REBELLION FOREVER!
**Thinking about it, I'd probably not be, but it WOULD be refreshing to have a large company blowing up infants and generally being dastardly.
***That's actually painful to type. DAMN YOU NESQUIK.
****Quicky, Quiky, Quikky, I don't care. It's all just minorly different strains of the same bacterial colon-infection of a mascot.