Author Archives: Raph Shirley

About Raph Shirley

I have been creating strange material for the internet for over twenty years. A kind of failed artist yet I refuse to stop.

The economy

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What? I’m supposed to just listen the whole time? No. No. And no. I will have my revenge. On Stephanomics et al.

Right. You should now have realised that I’m weighing in on the economy (satirically). I would first like to combine the things of being ‘in the zone’ in a sporting sense and being a member of the ‘Euro-zone’ by observing the shared sound. Further consider the Greek stereotypes that any wretch has in the ink cartridge of even his cheapest pen. Finally, watch as that pen plops the whole menagerie on to a computer screen and we must be left with a sensation of emptiness, which would be compared by a cruder man than myself to the feeling of having ‘shat out a battleship’. ‘HMS Massive Floater’.

Pause for laugh.

If a coin be reduced to the word it is then the fungibility becomes a matter of some concern no? If I must work for cash then how can I employ the techniques of contraction, allusion, and (for the love of Christ) brevity. Oh dear, I fear this is an opaque little piece that can not reach the mainstream.

Allow me the comparison of the comedian Lee Evans with Professor John Money. Both detail gender roles but, crucially, where Evans deals in spurious tendentious statements such as women like hotter baths than men, money proffers the hyper-un-amusing ‘multi-variate sequential determinism’. However, as I always say ‘John Money ain’t funny cos it’s true’. I think we can agree that this at least partly explains their divergent popularity.

Nah, but seriously, women are a pain in the arse especially given the modern fashion for use of strap on phalli in heterosexual relationships.

Pause for clap.

WTF indeed.

Valentines satire

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Hi Sarah,

Our union is the result of a carefully orchestrated procedure to locate a male-female pair of equal ‘attractiveness’. I find your personality delightful, which is why I was willing to sacrifice some ground on the looks front.

Likewise, I’m only too aware of my own cold manner, which traditionally is frowned upon in these matters. I hope my excellent computer programming skills and above average career prospects (I earn £35,055.00 – well above the national average) will go some way to counter these failings.

Yours sincerely,

Mr Shirley.

PS I find the prospect of genital contact with you to be arousing in the extreme (sexually).

Stefan at a dinner party

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A short internal monologue from Stefan, who is at a dinner party.

Stefan Right. Here it comes… Here it comes… Ok, get ready people …

One person stops speaking, beat, another person cuts in just before Stefan.

Stefan Oh you’ve got to be kidding me. There’s still time to make it… Is there still time to make it? Oh who am I kidding? The joke is lost. Lost somewhere in the mud of this conversation. I finally scrambled together an ok joke after 20 minutes without saying anything other than ‘I find most contemporary cinema banal’. Why did I say that? Why did that utterance happen? What purpose did it serve? It is the most stunning example, that I have seen at a contemporary dinner party, of the banal itself. What could I even have meant by that? I lump together the whole of ‘contemporary cinema’ now. What is ‘contemporary cinema’? Why even use the word cinema. Only use the word cinema to refer to anything other than a specific cinema if you are going to say something that is not utterly moronic. That is my lesson for you Stefan from this dinner party. The word cinema in a sentence when not referring to a specific cinema is to say ‘I consider myself knowledgeable about the history of cinema’. Cinema! What I really mean is DVDs. scornfully Cinema!

I’d decided that this dinner party was going to be a washout before I arrived. Essentially the same approach I take to watching films. What exactly did I want from this dinner party? How have I become someone at a dinner party? I have absolutely no control over the person I present myself to be, which more and more, is the only sensible definition of what I actually am. I am this dullard know it all who knows nothing to the extent that he uses words to imply he knows something about things which he knows nothing. I know nothing and I don’t know that I know nothing. Great! In addition to being a bore, I’m also a fool.

I really don’t know why I should have to say anything. I mean, I’ve got nothing against any of the other guests. I have absolutely no feelings whatsoever towards the other guests so why would I have anything to say to them. I happen to be in the same room that is all.

Oh no. Oh good god. Oh Jesus Christ. I need to fart. Oh great. Yeah thanks body, it’s because of you that I have to say anything and now you’re making sure that my two contributions to this social event will be that awful sentence and, now, an embarrassing sound. That is how these people will remember me and they’ll be right. What does a fart say about someone? It says they lack the necessary moral fibre to castrate their arse into silence. They lack the intellectual capacity to understand the effect that the sound will have on their status among their company. They are a worthless little man with no hope and no prospects and they must expect the ridicule that they will justly receive.

Beat.

There is a fart noise.

The End

My eye

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I’m going to talk about my eye. For just over three years the pictures it has been showing me have degraded into a dull ache now. A soft, mild brown blur. Even things like a crying child seem to bore me. I’ve been to the doctor. He says that it is a common problem and that he can prescribe some sort of palliative drug that will intensify colours.

After a week of trying the new drug I can see in more detail but the overwhelming feeling is still one of mild displeasure. Finally the doctor suggests an investigative operation in combination with weekly video sessions in which I can be shown extreme pornography that has been developed by NHS researchers. Initially, the images are only vaguely distressing. After three weeks of this he decides that it is time to strip away the outer layers of my face, remove the eye ball and insert a new one that has been donated by a schizophrenic with the opposite problem.

The whole thing has been a complete palava. I’m fed up with it and say
– I’ll keep the old eye on the left. I’ll put the other down to experience.
– Fair enough, a lot of people find that to be a better solution, he says.

Chill out m8,

The remarkable achievements attained in the field of neuroscience

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The current state of the art is described and critiqued. Avenues for further work are set forth and discussed. A prediction is made.

Using only one single five million dollar functional magnetic resonance imaging machine, Professor Veronica Smith produces a picture of my brain. Over coffee she talks me through the picture and explains her latest results, which suggests that thinking is not done in the brain, as commonly thought, but rather is done by the kidneys. In turn she believes that the main function of the brain is to ‘clean the blood’ and ‘frazzle the bejazzle out of snazzle-pops’. I’m visiting the Department of Cognitive Science at University College Hospital along with a handful of other journalists drawn by the seemingly rash claims of the group.


Early primitive attempt to render character visible, alongside a more accurate modern version (of gubbins).

Professor Smith has managed to impose a complete use of the passive voice upon all her employees in order to develop what she calls a ‘pure science’. By speaking entirely in this rudimentary language composed of subject predicate object triangle sentences she claims to have removed any possibility of error or evil. We are drinking some liquid brain fuel when the Professor presents me with a peculiar triangle sentence suggesting that our bodies might be too strange. Instead she suggests she may be able to ‘blend’ us into a sphere, or at the very least some sort of cuboid.

I’m given permission to speak to a number of other members of the group, each of whom reveal startling facts about the nature of research taking place in the building. There seems to be a complex ecosystem of men and women forming a large super-hierarchy. Money is dripping in to the mouth of Professor Smith and is trickling down over a champagne glass tower of employment. At ground level a base layer of humanoid foundations holds the entire structure. Using the triangle forms to bind the humanoids, Smith has crafted a congealed mass of brain organs supported by super brains and sub brains, with snacks fetched by the body brains.

“It is now possible to measure which, if any, regions of the brain are alive during a quiz while showing the subject photographs of a kitten in peril” – Dr Smurthwaite.

As each flesh unit morphs to spheroid the pyramid smothers into shape. The sides become slides to ejections and incepts leaving flaming gasses oozing from the cracks. It is a sight to behold and goes some way to explaining the remarkable achievements that have been made here. The future of Neuroscience is in safe hands!

Yours in truth,

Presentation to GreenLight

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Here’s a little light relief before we get into the blog proper:

One of the great things about being a programmer for one of the largest solar panel manufacturers in the south east is you get to do a lot of travelling. This week, I was going to Newcastle to give a talk on account management systems to GreenLight; a fellow green power company.

I arrived at the Newcastle travelodge around 6pm. I’d had a tough train journey and fancied a litre or two of strong lager, or as I say ‘I’ll have a lagerita, neither shaken nor stirred’ before explaining exactly what I mean by that. I walk in to town and go the local Wetherspoons (I know!). It was actually, a lovely little place. An old university lecture theatre with a number of interesting pictures on the wall.

By closing time I’m drunk as a carefree business guru and head back to my temp pad. I’m singing like a bloomin’ mad man mate! I stumble through the streets filled with those few of years and fewer of clothing (two years blogging for Two Hour Blogger equips one to turn a pretty sweet phrase, often inside of half an hour), but exercise enough restraint not to shout and merely fall over six times. But wait! I’ve noticed something. Something beautiful! A small entrance in the wall leads to a multicoloured rainbow escalator (not in a gay way (not in a homophobic way (regret nested parentheses))). I climb on and ascend into the antechamber of a shopping centre. Lo, I’m greeted at the top by a gigantic Christmas tree. It is a great hollow cone of tinsel that you can walk under and look inside.

I go underneath it. I look into the eye of the Christmas tree… and I pass out.

I woke up at 9am on the floor of the shopping centre. The Christmas tree hanging above me is like a big sick inducing finger down my throat now (again, I think yule agree my extensive blogging experience shows). Shit! 9am! Shit! I have to be at the presentation. I get there and I decide to come clean and tell them the above ;-) I can tell by their feigned embarrassment that they are deeply impressed. It is clear these guys need to be taught a thing or two about partying! And taught/party hard!

Afterwards, I’m informed by email that they will not be offering us the contract. In hindsight it was a mistake to tell them I was drunk presenting. I craft a perfectly worded email to me’ boss painting them as a backward company who don’t understand how powerful the internet is. I mean, that is basics! I add a little joke about me giving them a business 101. I’m confident I won’t be fired and at most will receive a harsh telling off. Nothing that my rearrangement of the secret Santa and purchase of a hilarious card for my boss, which makes a cheeky accusation of infidelity at his wife (hinging around a Christmas based demi-pun), can’t solve.

Galileo you absolute wuss!

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Galileo
The earth moves.

Vatican
Say that again and we’ll kill you.

Galileo
Did I say it does move? I meant it doesn’t. Where do I sign?

Socrates took the hemlock, Jesus bore the cross, and Galileo did a runner.

I would have stood up for my beliefs like I do with this web log every week,

Book on sale now!

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“Thanks to the vulgar extravagances of our times it is now possible for anybody to publish a zero quality book without the hassle of having to make any effort into making it good.”

– Raph Shirley, in previous blog post.

All for the great price of just 14.99!

Remember – buy 25 and get a 28% discount! That’s 25 copies for just £147.25! Buy 100 and get 29% off!!!

Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.

P.S.

Web log entry 100

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Welcome to web log post number one hundred! Can you believe it?!

1) First off, a little scene from my week

2) The main body of text

The bulk of this one is a script about Socrates and Rachel of Friends fame. It is partly a sideswipe at the Socratic method and partly a send up of compilation shows.

Rachel
Do you remember that time when Raph first started blogging?

Socrates
Yeah, he came in and went ‘Hi’. and then…

Wavy lines then fade to screen shots of the first blog. The style is not yet fully formed.

Socrates
But what about the time he did that cartoon do you remember?

Rachel
Yeah, I do.

A snazzy lick on a bass guitar as we fade to a picture of Raph’s first cartoon; a satire on the humorist Ian Hislop.

Rachel
… but so much has changed since then. His web log has come on in leaps and bounds.

Socrates
Yeah, but I still don’t get it and it’s still shit.

Rachel
YEAH!

They both laugh to an emotional music outro.

3) The exciting finale

The most exciting thing has got to be that I’m now in a position to announce that there will be a book released of the blog! Thanks to the vulgar extravagances of our times it is now possible for anybody to publish a zero quality book without the hassle of having to make any effort into making it good. It will be out in time for your Christmas stockings!!!

cu,

A PROOF THAT THE EXTERMINATION OF OUR SUN

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May, in Absence of Further Evidence, be a Necessary Evil Since it Self-Evidenty Embodies a Most Egregious and Offensive Arrogance.

Written in the Year 2011

DON’T THINK I DON’T CONSIDER THE DANGER in speaking against the commonly held adoration for it. Trust that I have considered all consequences and yet continue to hold my beliefs. I ask you to bring to the fore of your headmatter remembrances of any of your beermates that might endeaver to swing the earthe bout themselves with an invisible gravitether. I propose that you know no such vagamate. I further submit that no other of the manifold stars in our sky does demand so much attention as our nuisance own, which considers no harm in dictating our each and every day and of creating a sometimes rather hot sensation ‘pon the coverskin.

Further consider the centuries in which it mocked our lack of understanding of nuclear power. Excreting its vulgar rays into our servile faces as if to decree ‘u don’t understand me silly devilbeasts’. Like a hideous flabby father of forty year, rinsing its weakling son at the chess board.

And what more that it planted the seed of vaingodly stuff that form the core of our Christfan and Moslem brothers’ astrolgies. That it incited worship at it and mocked our glorious moon, our melancholic friend in the sky; her with more dignity that it not warm the face or inflate the plant. And it is she that offer to plop her icy spear into the heart of that yellow spherijerk and annihilate its flame to let us bath in the starry night on straight path through eternity.

Let the ice spear eclipse the hot death o’ hell in perpetuity o’er the five day week.

Largely a plagiary of Swift.

Cheers,

Terminator X: Abomination

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One of the major advantages of running your own zine is that you get to work with some great geeks. One day while I was hangin’ out in Forbidden Planet I was recognised (eugghh) by a fellow weblogger. He knew all too well the ongoing battle between me and SexyPete99. Don’t worry, he’s on our side! Anyway we got to chattin’ over a mocha at the local independent coffee house (he had a cappuchino) (Has Beans, Guildford high street – check it out).

He knew a lot more about computer programming than I do (and I know alot – coding for one of the largest solar panel installation companies in the South East has some effect bro) and he said he could set up a special webzone to allow opensource writing projects. Err, yes please! This is the result. Enjoy!!

Terminator X: Abomination

‘If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them.’ – Leviticus 20:13, King James Bible.

Thuds and cracks flash over the sky casting a shimmering blue light over the Terminator’s rippling, scarred, and massive pectoral muscles. I’m hungry. We haven’t eaten since May, which was almost two days ago now, and even then it was some rat’s brother. I wondered if the machine really needed all that living tissue over his metal endoskeleton. Could some be spared for a barbecue? From somewhere you never see like his anus? “You must sleep, the human resistance depends on you John, you have a long day tomorrow” said the machine, coyly. I said I knew he was right and asked if he could try to catch another rat in the morn. “Affirmative” he said, coyly.

It must have been another two hours before I awoke again. This time it was a huge cannon fire on the horizon. The machine tutted, coyly. To my surprise he lay behind me, spooning. “What are you doing?” I demanded. “Survival probability is increased if humans are kept warm at night”. For a second I thought I detected… flirtation? No, surely not. I laid back down and shut my eyes. “Do you have… needs?”. “I require a constant power source, and can only operate between 100 and 1000 degrees Kelvin and…” I cut him off. “No… I mean… sexual needs” he paused. “I was programmed to be asexual, however it is possible to reset the motherboard” My mouth dropped, coyly. “The original infantry models were homosexual but they were withdrawn after the catastrophe of the omega wars” My eyes literally popped open. “Since then we were programmed to not ask nor tell” I couldn’t believe it.

The battle against the machines is a long and arduous campaign and every soldier needs some R and R. But this? This was shocking. I’ve seen a lot o’ things since the nuclear war. But this?! I mean, it is his job to maximise the chances of the resistance. If that means improving my mental health and making me a more effective leader then… But this?!?!

Suddenly, everything started to fit together. That is why I sent him back in time! My husband is the only person I can trust to protect me. And he knew the whole time! The whole time? The whole time. We were married in the morning and lived happily for 3 short years before it was time to send him back. We had lost the war. Sending him back was my last act as leader of the resistance before we set off the Cyberdyne global destruction device and everything was gone. Somehow the eternal cycle seemed good enough. Those three years of marital bliss with that kind man were worth the annihilation of mankind. Because if a machine can learn the value of the institution of gay marriage… maybe we can too.

“We sent Lot and he said to his people, ‘How can you practice this outrage? No other people has done so before. You lust after men rather than women! You transgress all bounds!’ The only response his people gave was to say [to one another], ‘Drive them out of your town! These men want to keep themselves chaste!’ We saved him and his kinfolk – Apart from his wife who stayed behind – and We showered upon [the rest of] them a rain [of destruction]. See the fate of the evildoers.” – 7.80-7.84 Qu’ran, translated by M. A. S. Abdel Haleem.

The End.

And SexyPete99 thought T1 was better! Unbelievable!

We’re currently working on a TNG prequel. Watch this space!

Live long and prosper,

The disgusting nature and exploits of the rose

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In which I set forth the vulgar behaviour of the garden rose and ask that we reconsider our love affair with it lest we be dragged into the filth along with.

One doesn’t need to invent devils to witness the true horror of the world. One need only look in the garden to see the murder and chaos. The bleak terror of the roses’ perverse interspecies sex acts. The red light to young insect. The invitation to oblivion. And mine own heart is drawn by the flower whores. I have taken from the cup of nature and had my soul torn.

And it is science that has revealed these nightmares of the universe. The harlots! The mistresses of thorn, seducers of bee, and ruin of man. Off with her dead head!

Your humble advisor,

The twentieth century: a pantomime

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I have just been commissioned by Surrey County Council to write the 2011 Guildford pantomime. I have decided to write a light hearted look at the twentieth century. There will be one minute for every year.

The characters:

  • The dame – capitalism
  • The villain – totalitarianism
  • The hero – democracy
  • The love interest – socialism

Plot summary:

The show will consist of ten scenes, one for each decade. For each new decade the dame will get a new dress. The final scene will be a cocktail party on the roof of the twin towers.

News flash – Surrey County Council has just cancelled the contract.

Possible solutions to the global energy problem

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It is a little known fact that over 99.999% of the world’s energy is currently consumed by other people. It is also true that over half of all other people are in an other country. That’s why I’m arguing that we need to expend a lot more effort reducing other countries’ energy demands and less reducing our insignificant own. This must be achieved through a number of schemes and we have to get away from the notion that it can be done purely through total war.

While all against all may be able to account for perhaps 80% reductions in consumption/population, the last 20% could be significantly harder to eradicate. And the remainder will not be solved through serial killers. They make significant contributions to the problem of global warming yes, but they can never take off on a grand scale. The Toyota Prius has often boasted that it is ‘almost as much good as one percent of one percent of one percent of Jack the Ripper’, but the truth is he could have done so much more if it weren’t for the petty legislation handed down to us by Whitehall. It stifles murderers and it harms the environment.

Nuclear holocaust has been a controversial solution and I’d rather not get bogged down in the arguments for and against it here. It is a red herring. Really, what we need is the forced abstinence of other people. That is why I’m asking for an outright ban on opposite sex marriage. Is it not unnatural that up and down the country, people continue to produce further people or what I call ‘carbon multipliers’?

Consider suicide.

Your children’s inheritance will be a cleaner, greener planet if other people’s children aren’t there to ruin it for them. With a little perseverance and a lot of camp we can make this the last human generation and leave a perfect world for all posterity.

Am I too moderate? We must seek to reduce not just the impact of human life but of all life. Our brothers and sisters the deer and the snail, and our fathers and mothers the oak and the pine; all shall be curbed! And then we shall leave a perfect sphere with all its mould and moss forever destroyed.

Yours in earnest,