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.

My brother – review

Posted on by

Despite some flashes of interest, Raph Shirley is underwhelmed.



My brother entered the scene in late 1989 and has been wowing family-occasion-goers ever since. Unfortunately, his performance has become rather stolid of late. Now he’s a sort of lumpen drudging knock off of better brothers such as David Attenborough and Ethan Cohen.

In a characteristic scene my brother, Ben, is reduced to limping about the kitchen moaning about unemployment and a lack of family support. A modern updating of the prodigal son it might be, but p-lease I haven’t seen melodrama this hammy since breakfast with the Aflecks.

One of the major problems are his frequent, often rambling soliloquies. Any editor worth their salt would surely take a large pair of scissors to about half of what he says. I’m still trying to forget Ben’s final speech of 2010; a rather ostentatious display of Brotherhood with a capital B, making outrageous claims about my disloyalty. Lets just say, Ben, you ain’t no Shakespeare, get back to the physical clowning.

Ben is clearly capable of amusing us, we still talk about him falling over in the paddling pool in 97, but he’s going to have to figure out what it was that we once liked, nay really liked. This brother needs to put more effort into the script and a little less into “not being such a prick all the time”. Sorry parents, but a few cuts would have gone a long way.

Lots of love,

Raph Shirley (prophet)

Posted on by

I was walking down the street the other day, and I bumped into this woman (I don’t know if you’ve ever met a woman, they’re basically mad hideous monsters, like men) and she’d got into her head the misguided idea to manufacture a person. Now, if it was me I would probably do this using a computer controlled 4D special laser printer but she considered the appropriate course of action to be to grow one inside her stomach.

I remembered how my mum, Sharon Shirley, had accidentally sacrificed her own innards to the nefarious purpose of creating a mutant hybrid between herself and my old man after placing too much faith in the stress resistance of polyurethane. I relayed my experiences to the wench before me and reiterated my belief in laser printing technology. We adopted a little Chinese girl as a compromise. She was a little two dimensional grey one from my HP LaserJet P2050 Series PCL6. I added a third dimension by spraying it with Impulse Jasmine (body mist).

“I’m confused by the word ‘this’, it’s like a piece of string between the world and the sentence” I said. She said that all words were like that and asked me why I was standing on top of the gigantic whoopy cushion I’d been gradually blowing up. The noise that followed was genuinely hilarious. We all laughed and had pancakes for dinner. Except our beautiful daughter who was killed in a tragic shredding accident.

The end,

A fair system for toilet use

Posted on by

My mother, Sharon Shirley, recently made the unreasonable demand that I put the seat down after using the toilet. Here is my response.

Allow me to neglect poo-poo for the purposes of a thought experiment.

Imagine there are two social groups A and B who require the toilet to be in states A and B respectively, for wee wees. There is some effort incurred in changing the state one way, EA-B, which is essentially equal to the effort incurred in changing the state the other way, EB-A.

What system of use would be fair and proper? Is it the current system, where state A is considered to be philosophically superior to state B and that group B have to change the state to their required state pre-toilet and then change it to the opposite state post-toilet to spare group A the indignity of changing the toilet state? Pompous group A pricks.


Figure 1 A hypothetical, perfectly fair toilet for which equal effort is required of all genders and creeds.

I put it to you that group A’s position is entirely bogus, and I will no longer change the toilet state for them. There will be net lower indignity if this mode of operation is adopted worldwide. Moreover, there will be equal distribution of indignity between the two groups.

And what is a lid even for? Can we please get rid of that? Also, we are out of toilet paper and duck.

Now I will consider the impact of number 2s.

Of course, groups A and B agree on the toilet state for number 2s. This complicates matters slightly because some of group B will be saved effort by other group B members changing the state for them post number 1. However, you will see that net effort is still lower if my system is adopted because only necessary state changes occur.

I apologise for discussing this delicate matter with you. I feel the situation has come to a crisis point requiring brave men like myself to come forward and speak up against prejudice and hypocrisy.

I rest my case,

p.s. mum, could you give me a lift to the pub tonight around 7.04pm? and not Chicken Tonight tonight again please. I do not feel like Chicken Tonight tonight. I might be persuaded by Sausages Tonight…

… tonight.

Made irrelevant

Posted on by

Dear Mr Shirley,

I regret to inform you (yes, I am aware of the absurdity of pre-emptively regretting something I am about to do) that we are unable to offer you a position at this time/ever. Unfortunately, we give preference to applicants who do not do ‘their impressions’ at interview. Furthermore, your recreation of the voice from Disney Blu-ray adverts was not as accurate as you had promised and too esoteric.

In addition to the reason already given, which would be enough in itself, we also do not hire people who have recently been made redundant and certainly not those who have been made irrelevant by us. If I remember correctly, you were made irrelevant after repeatedly referring to our high grade fuel as ‘the black docter’, which is probably racist, definitely spelt wrong, and most importantly, utterly non-sensical. We do not tolerate that sort of shit in this organisation.

Once again, I apologise for the unfortunate incident of me having to bring you this bad news at this sad time in the current economic climate.

Yours sincerely,

Peter Voser

CEO/Head Cleaner
Shell Oil PLC

Shell Oil is an equal opportunities employer (except for morons who are given slightly reduced opportunities). Present this rejection letter at one of our many stations and receive 10% off any fuel purchase; simply quote “loser’s deal”.

Our Lady

Posted on by

The first family circular.

As a lot of you know, 1 has been a tumultuous year for the Christ family. In January, Joseph’s cries of foul play were eventually silenced by An Explanation based around frottage, and things seemed to be on the up. The lack of affordable housing continues to add to our woes but The Precocious Little Brat seems happy enough – He got his grade 8 piano in Feb! It can’t be all that bad!! March was as dull as a dodo; a simile operating on the fact that the dodo is a common bird of little interest, as is the case at this time.


Figure 1. The Little Bugger as Lamb. Raph Shirley, ink on paper, A4, 2010.

In April I felt the “wise” men had outstayed their welcome rather. Awkward! In May Gabriel was in town for a work do and tensions with Joseph flared up again but I managed to keep things calm mainly by pointing behind Joseph and saying “What’s that?” whenever Gabriel was around. By the way, Luke doesn’t know what he is talking about. If “nothing is impossible with God” then it must be possible for him to write an impossible riddle. Paradox! Q.E.D. – Luke is full of it. June was an absolute nightmare if I’m honest. We were audited because Joseph wrote “Yes please!” on the census (that was old hat in -6!), and of course a lot of the receipts were revealed as fakes. How many times did I tell him to keep the amounts realistic? (5). Forty pieces of silver for one bit of unleavened bread! July to November is probably too much to avoid this getting a little tired. check out Mathew’s blog for some great stories from those days. I feel he overuses the word begat but what do I know.

And then of course December. Has it really been a year?! I write this while watching His birthday party. Joseph got him socks and was smited. Joseph is going off on one about being Put Upon and the whole thing is a nasty scene. Unfortunately, the party is mainly a washout due to the massacre of the innocents. Anyway, I hope you are well and I wish you all the best for 2.

Yours smug,

Mary Christ.

An experimental investigation into the sleeping habits of my mother

Posted on by

Introduction
Middle aged humans are a common phenomenon that can be observed at a wide range of locales. From the wine aisle in Waitrose to that at Sainsbury they can be identified chiefly by the appearance of moderate wrinkles on their faces and bodies and by their possessing an often timid demeanour.

This study is concerned with the development of a new methodology for measuring various character traits by the control and disruption of their sleep. Specifically, we observe the fifty five year old human female Sharon Shirley (herein referred to as SS Old Bean) by means of an observation deck concealed in its bedroom.

Methodology
Recent advances in toilet design (Figure 1) allow the scientist continuous access to the bedrooms of the middle aged for the first time. We employ such a shed/toilet approach using the older Prod With Stick (PWS) method for waking my mother.


Figure 1 Experimental setup.

Results and Discussion
The most striking aspect of this work is surely the violent reactions from Mrs Shirley upon being woken (See Figure 2).


Figure 2 Swear words per sentence as a function of time of sleep disruption. The red squares show a fifteen week average. Blue squares show the night of the burglary. The green square is clearly an outlier. The ‘leisure time’ shown in yellow was occupied with basic literature, tv and reminiscing about teenage sexual exploits.

Specifically, the PWS method produced massive eruptions of swearing and violence when repeatedly applied between the hours of 03.00 and 05.00 GMT. Indeed, the author had to resort to the hose to keep his mother at bay on three occasions. The first being coincident with the burglary, which was left to take its natural course in order to avoid any possibility of artefactual data. The other two showing no coincidence with experimental conditions but both accompanied by identical protestations relating to ‘work in the morning’. Clearly, the middle aged are a strange animal with complex behaviour and oral communication systems.

Conclusions
The middle ages are some of the toughest in our lives. Here, we show how a modern approach to them can increase hostility between family members under certain conditions.

Thank you,

American Pie 37

Posted on by

Transcript:

Things have quietened down a little since Finchy passed. Oh, we still like a joke or two. I sometimes tease Stifler about his mom being a ‘DGGILTK’. That’s a Dead Great Grandmother I’d Like To Kiss. I changed the last word because we’re too old for all that nonsense now and I added the ‘To’ to the acronym because it really bothers me when people leave out those words in order to make an acronym more snappy. Of course it goes straight over Stifler’s head because he is in the advanced stages of Altziemer’s.

All the best,

Woman makes strange sound in conversation

Posted on by

A 34 year old woman today made an unusual sound in a conversation with friends. The confused onlookers refrained from querying the woman’s meaning for fear of “embarrassment”.

“It was a sort of short high pitched steam train’s toot” – Darren, 35. A number of leading sceptics have suggested it might have been a sign of incredulity or bemusement.

Despite communicating very little it did cause Darren to have a mild and short lived burst of giggles. “I really didn’t know what she meant and then I just started to consider the sound which appeared more and more absurd to me”.

According to an international speaker, sounds like this should be celebrated and we must try not to be prejudiced against them. “People will often embellish their conversations with wordless noises. Although I will admit, it can sometimes be hard to figure out exactly what they mean”.

Cheers,

Killer gran hell

Posted on by

A rollicking rampage of octogenarian revenge, torn flesh, and laser canons.

My grandmother was chopping carrots when it happened. By ‘it’ I of course mean the laser razor ray slicing though the ceiling and into her brain. Oh yes, after that things between me and gran started to get a little, how shall we say… absolute terror shock of murder violence, not to put too fine a point on it. She instantly threw the knife she was holding. It went through the right arm of my Gap t shirt and pinned me to her terrible antique screen. I could see carrot juice still wet on the blade and regretted wearing such a bad t shirt for this unexpectedly exciting scene.

Her campaign of violent retribution has begun. One by one she is out to get each of her grandchildren. Only I can stop her.

Best regards,

Eating alone

Posted on by

I love eating alone, but I hate being caught. The reversal of esteem when going from gorging on burgers at a bus stop to being joined by a waiting passenger is second in magnitude only to that associated with orgasm. Culinary onanism is a great joy, as intense as the sexual kind, but attached with equal feelings of guilt and insecurity.

If you go on holiday alone like me then you will be familiar with the troubles of eating. I once ordered fifty cheap ‘n’ dirty buffalo wings only to be caught stuffing them on the upper deck of a bus. I had to throw them away and pretend I was full. By the time I could try to relight our fire the relationship had grown cold and soggy.

I have a deep respect and admiration for someone who can eat at a restaurant alone. How can they do it? It is my greatest ambition to one day master that trick. If you can do that then you are at peace. And – which is more – you’ll be a Man my son! Consider this: Pizza Express; Friday; 8pm; a man with a beer and a pizza, who is accompanied by a look on his face as simple as a labrador’s, is smartly dressed. He has actually dressed up to go to Pizza Express alone. He has desert alone. He has coffee alone. He tips moderately! Imagine slipping into a little Chanel suit, putting on a mink fur, and spending an hour applying make up, to wank.

Cheers,

Stephen Hawking: prick or dick?

Posted on by

In which I offer a considered reaction to The Grand Design, the latest publication of Prof Stephen Hawking.

“We each exist for but a short time…”

That ‘but’ along with the other words in the book’s first sentence ensure that by the end of it you already have more than a little stomach acid at the back of your throat. However, this early pretension is but a preface to the imminent whirlwind of diarrhoea-ish shit hell. He rapidly progresses to such monumental glibbery as ‘philosophy is dead’. One can’t help but draw the conclusion this man is but a drunken precocious teenager stuck in the body of a great intellectual. but.

“It is reasonable to ask who or what created the universe, but if the answer is God, then the question has merely been deflected to that of who created God” – Yes, my mind has been (utterly) blown, but I think this should be attributed to Michael Smith et al. (Comment on Newsround website, 2005).

His book is part GCSE revision notes, part self help bog rag, but what is Hawking the man? Cynical publishing mastermind or genuine arse? Harmless egotist or mad, bad, and deeply offensive egotist? Prick or dick?

The title of Chapter 3 is “What is Reality?”.

Cheers,

The Mona Lisa

Posted on by

The Mona Lisa is the best painting in the world. And a great improvement on the earlier pornographic version. It was done by the best painter in the world (Leonardo da Vinci) and the title was written by the best writer in the world (William Shakespeare). And it has been seen by the best people in the world. Including The Great British Public and Albert Einstein. When I do this at weddings I get a huge cheer for the former and a lone cheer for the latter from some weird guy who loves Einstein.

Leonardo da Vinci invented the helicopter and to do that you need the internal combustion engine and you can’t really have a helicopter without lights and nowadays the internet. He foresaw the lot.

Unfortunately, despite all that, he was a bit of a dick. He was always playing pranks on the various young artists who respected and admired him. I remember one wet Sunday afternoon, a young boy by the name of MICHELANGELO! DI LUDOVICO! BUONARROTI! SIMONI! (that’s MICHELANGELO!!! (the artist!)) came in to ask how to paint cats.1 Michelangelo, aged only five years, and young for his age, told Leonardo what a huge fan he was and asked if he might have an autograph? Leonardo told him to ‘fuck off you little shit’. Then he pulled his pants down, smacked his bottom and sent him home to his ‘mummy’.


Figure 1 A somewhat cheeky and amusing subversion of The Mona Lisa. Taken from www.freaking news.com.

No. By far the most lasting impact of Leonardo has been on the ‘prank postcard’. Since 1883, when a precocious young novelties seller first added a pipe to the sublime image, the field has seen numerous revelatory juxtapositions such as a mohican, a joint, and even, a bong. You yourself can try adding a bong to masterpieces. It’s irreverent and fun so give it a go. Bong.

Cheers,

1 The question ‘How to paint cats?’ is here distinct from the question ‘Why paint cats?’. See www.whypaintcats.com for more information.

The banana

Posted on by

The banana in its sluttish yellow overcoat eyed me from across the hall. The way it draped its slender ripe figure provocatively across that pawn of an apple. The way it affectedly brushed past the orange. Oh that banana had it coming, and don’t let no one tell you different.

I pretended I hadn’t noticed. I went on about my business. I constructed a look of busy action at the computer face. Staring into the abyss of an excel spreadsheet displaying tawdry accounting jargon such as ‘costs’ and ‘total’ when all I could really think about was that fucking banana.

Tony Blair famously said education three times. And of course, I, in my way, am painfully aware of the simplicity of the mechanisms of it. The straight forwardness of combining two objects like this sickens me even as I spew it, although I must admit that that ‘even’ is out of place given the tautology.

But at least I stopped it in the middle, even if my intention was to disregard your generous attention and to thank you for visiting by flippantly giving you nothing of worth.

Unfortunately this is not a wedding and I can’t get one of the band members to give me a late, drunken, and drummed out joke announcer.

It has all fallen to pieces. I’m not quite sure where it happened but its lost now for ever.

Do you follow?