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.

Creation

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One
It was morning time and I needed a shower bad. I realised that I couldn’t remember why I was dirty. Then God rudely came in my bedroom without asking and presented the most splendid tart. There were a load of weird animals like half-zebra/half-worms around. One of them came over to be stroked. Then it opened its mouth and out popped a Twix. I ate it because the sinning witch told me to with sexy looks. She looked like she was straight out of Zoo magazine except with bigger tits and vagina. It was a bit disappointing to be honest on account of the ephemeral nature of sensory pleasure.

Two
The mid morning brunch-lunch period was bloody pandemonium. At the end the woman handed me a note which said ‘I am a metaphor for sin’ which I thought was a bit sexist really and probably a simplistic interpretation. Anyway, it was all a bit of fun until about 5.30 when God came back to lecture us a bit.

Three
Come evening time I had a really bad stomach ache and very much regretted the Twix which seemed to be transforming into a bureaucratic machine made of my intestines. On top of that there were now a load of even weirder animals around playing elaborate jazz solos on things like a five piped saxophone and a one key’d piano. One of them started saying a load of totally crazy shit at me. It was really freaking me out but not as much as when I looked down and there were giant ants whose legs were dirty hospital needles and bees with senescent human faces and slugs vomiting maggots. Man this is shit, and worse than that, it went on, quite literally, for ever. I blame that stupid woman because the Twix and all the rest of it wasn’t worth this.

Yours, as ever, magniloquently,

Dance

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To some people dancing comes naturally. To me it comes supernaturally. That’s right, fasten your seat belts because this post is about to take a nose dive directly to a more academic style of prose.

“I would believe only in a God that knows how to dance.” – Friedrich Nietzsche1

Dancing is typically thought of as a light hearted and fun exercise. Exempli gratia2 “Hey, I love to dance, it just makes me feel great”. But many people forget that as recently as 1518, it could lead to mass hysteria and death3. Dancing began around 50,000 BC when early4 man first started dating early5 woman. Cinema at the time had become staid and uninspiring and young people were looking for a more exciting pastime6. The gunpowder was there, all it took was a match in the form of a primitive dance called the ‘kick’. The dance involved a simple motion of the leg upwards and forwards and that was the end of it. Teenagers gathered in their ones to take part in this and so was coined ‘teenage kicks’.

“Never trust spiritual leader who cannot dance.” – Mr. Miyagi7

But we arrive now at the winter of the post and still a thrust to the argument seems as unfortunately absent as an erection on your golden wedding anniversary8. You no longer dance. The leaves are falling off the trees and there is a quiet sadness in your eyes as you sit in your chairs and watch each other slowly die.

Yours disingenuously,

Footnotes

1 The internet.

2 ‘e.g.’ or ‘for example’

3 See Wikipedia article, The dancing plague of 1518.

4 As in ‘with ears’.

5 As in ‘like an earl’.

6 Cinema in the early 50,000 BCs consisted mainly in staring at a rock. Only the French avant garde was so bold as to include such complicated allegory as the smashing of two rocks against each other.

7 The Next Karate Kid, 1994

8 Simile is often the shortest path to a joke.

Is it possible…

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… to be into politics and talk about it without being a total dick?

No. Probably not. But that’s not what I’m talking about today. Today, as you probably know, there is a waning gibbous moon. But that’s not what I’m talking about today (when it’s in a waning gibbous phase, the moon rises some hours after sunset and glows like a full moon when it’s near the horizon. But the shape of this moon is less than full).

No. What really makes today the day of all days is that today I will once and for all put to rest the issue of the meaning of life. I wont solve it, just put it to rest for a bit. Are you still here? If so you have just put up with three false starts. Either you really have very little to be getting on with or you have a misplaced hope that something mildly amusing may be on the horizon.

Nothing.

More blogging on the way soon,

2000, a great vintage

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Vague memories of literal and metaphorical squibs.

But there are other relics of the millennium and today I will be talking, mostly, about websites. If websites were rated according to their proper metric, that is, by number of fonts used per page, then my first foray into the internet would surely be the winner1. www.raphman.20m.com was a classic 2000. The obscure, fabulous fonts. The gaudy colour schemes. A continuing astonishment at the hilarity of incongruous photo captions.

Now of course, the wine has turned to creaking electronic vinegar. I feel genuinely let down by the internet. What do we have now?

T H I S

Spare a thought for Tim Berners-Lee. He must be just a little sour in the wee hours having given it all away for nothing only for it to be farmed and savaged by The Microsoft NetworkTM, AmazonTM, et ceterarumTM.

Send in your favourite classic websites. The best post will receive a special surprise gift2.

Good luck,

1When I was at school I wrote a two page essay using only one sentence. My teacher got pissed off about that and also because I copied it out of the Dorling Kindersley Science Encyclopaedia. I shall make no efforts to improve sir.

TMTotal Meanies.

2In the event of no entries I shall spend the equivalent cost of the special surprise gift on Tesco value microwave meals for one to be eaten in the corner of my damp and desperate flat. Their already oversalted meat lasagne seasoned further by a glistening, solitary tear.

Embarrassing man makes ok point in argument

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A deeply embarrassing man yesterday punched above his weight and made a number of insightful remarks in a conversation with friends. His long suffering buddies all commented on the unfortunate absence of people to impress when the socially awkward city worker wittily responded to comments made in an article in the Metro newspaper.

‘The article was about the average earning of Britons. I just thought some of the points made were a bit off the mark. So I criticised them.’ Shortly after telling the story to reporters he began to slip and his conversation returned to the deadening horror of a man with no purpose, no promise, no joy.

‘Usually I can’t bare to see him, but yesterday for a couple minutes he was all right’. When asked if the two shocked onlookers would consider meeting him more often the responses were less than optimistic. ‘To be honest, I think it was probably a one off’.

America

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America. Land of the free. But are they really free with their little lives, and is it a land at all?

America was founded in 1471 by Columbus. Sorry, I mean ‘found’ don’t I. It is basically the best country in the world but sort of not that great given the generally poor build quality of the world. Of course, barely a second goes by without hearing about the ‘USA’ or even the ‘US’. I don’t think popular culture can ever really recover from the invention of things such as rap music or music (which was actually invented in Africa ages ago).

America was built on the founding principle that Britain is sort of fine so lets basically keep things like that but maybe eat hamburgers instead of sausages. They eat hamburgers in England now too? Ah fuck that.

Britain on the other hand was found on the principle of ‘I’ll av that’. Sorry, I mean ‘founded’ don’t I? Britain has things like multiple zoos and a strong financial sector but lacks the more important aspects of a strong society like dictatorial government and an extreme regime of intimidation and humiliation. To be honest this post has sort of started out as some kind of idea and now descended into meaningless nonsense.

What are your thoughts?

America. Hero or zero? Country or concept? I can’t even be bothered to come up with a subverting third point.

How to get from where you don’t want to be to where you do want

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I can help you. And by you I mean me (to help you).

Hello. Breathe. And breathe good. For you are on your way to a happier you. Go on say it! ‘ME!’.

First off, the work place.
You know when you just feel like your boss sucks? You just want to run outside and scream about how your boss is always bossing you around? I’m like ‘No, I don’t want to get the Whitehead report done by Friday. Now get out. And don’t come back until YOU have done it. Good bye.’.

Now, the home place.
You know when you just feel like your boyfriend is no good or your girlfriend is also no good? Yeah? Yeah, I’m not really sure what to do about that. That is a serious problem affecting millions of people around the country. This is one problem best left to the professionals.

N! O! T!

Then, the various places in between work and home.
Commuting can be difficult when you’re a single mum with one foot in the homestead and one in a massive lump of cement. Kids nowadays have increasing access to industrial quantities of building apparatus and they are not afraid to use them. How does one get to work? It can be a literal mine field. Tick tick tick… BROOM eh housewives? No, but there are a number of serious issues relating to women in the workplace. Statistics show that as many as fifteen people have been tickled by the idea of being thirsty and needing a wee at the same time. I just don’t understand how that is remotely remarkable.

So, it’s that time again:

Time to…

Have Your Say.

Below is a selection of your comments

… moderated due to offensive content…
James, London

Taxes are our money! Also, who took us to Iraq in teh first place! Err, kettles and pots me thinks
Matt, Essex

In Iceland we generate the majority of our energy using ALL green.
Jhorgen, Iceland

Bankers bonuses.
Jane, Edinburgh

Another great post!
Raph, London

The repeal of the corn laws.
David, Manchester

This is exactly what the Nazis said in 1939.
Sarah, Bucks

Story time 3

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There is one thing that can be derived from first principles and that is that Squibble Bobble, the peculiar little alien, likes grub. He went in to the nearest grub shop which in this instance was a bakery. Gregg’s bakery. “Hello”. “What’s going on, who said that?”. Squibble Bobble is just two inches small and can not see over shop counters without his ham fisted stilts which were currently under repair after snapping instantaneously upon first use. “Any bananas”. “No”. Squibble Bobble wasn’t paying attention now because he had found a crisp. He’d just polished that off when he found another. They were all in a pile in a crisp bag that he had opened without permission. “No, you have to pay for that”. “Pay for what? Ah”. Squibble Bobble proceeded to build replacements from the assorted grime and fluff round the corners of the shop. “Good as new. Good as new? Goodbye”, and he disappeared in a fubbly squiffle of green fuzzle wuzz. The woman at Greggs wasn’t too bothered because she likes Squibble Bobble a lot and also knows the man whose house he lives in who always covers the damages which is always one packet of crisps.

Goodbye.

Story time 2

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Squibble Bobble is a strange little alien. He struggles to make friends and is a little simple alien. He walked up to an old man and gave him a buttercup. “What is that strange little alien doing giving me a buttercup”. That was a pretty standard response to be fair and truthful, and very common on account of him so often giving buttercups. “If someone give me a buttercup why then I’d be their friend”. Yes but Squibble Bobble you are a peculiar alien. No one of sound mind would consider giving a little flower to a littler alien. “dooooooaaaaahhh”.

Squibble Bobble woke up and said “I want to make a friend today, where buttercups”. The old man from before said “genuinely get out of my bed you can not stay here”. Squibble Bobble ignored said man and set off out the window leaving his things in a neat pile on the old man’s pillow. The old man tutted and set about his work of accountancy from home. He realised that his work was boring as anything and that the little alien was, while most peculiar, at least of moderate interest in being so most peculiar. He peeped through the key hole and saw Squibble Bobble peeping back. “You decided to come”. He opened the door and saw that Squibble Bobbble had built him a pile of buttercups. “Thanks mate”. “Yessssssss”. They walked to McDonalds holding hands all the way. McDonalds did not accept buttercups as payment despite Squibble Bobble’s insistence that they were “good”. They went to bed hungry.

The end.

Story time

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“Mister” said a little alien. A simple little alien called squibble bobble. “who is it?”. “It’s squibble bobble mister”. “What want?”. “Grub”. He threw a mouldy old banana out the window for the simple little alien. Squibble bobble gobbled it and hiccuped. “Thanks mister” said squibble bobble who threw the banana skin back through the post box.

Goodbye.

Internet satirists create hoax news story

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Students yesterday produced a fake news item about the recent burqa banning debacle. The twenty year old at the centre of the shocking parody seemed to be showing a gross lack of respect for all parties concerned. News of the blog post went straight to the PM and reverberations have since been felt in the UN and NATO.

Speaking at a meeting set up to debate the full meaning of the piece, David Cameron spoke of being troubled by the author’s ‘deep irony’. This, mixed with an ill-considered liberal viewpoint, made the stinging criticisms in the article particularly potent.

‘We just wanted to really get to the heart of the matter by exposing the idiocy of the media storm’ – Jon, 23. Equivalent French students had responded to a similar debate in earnest. ‘That’s just not the way we do things in England, we like to avoid embarrassment by applying irony so liberally the reader gets lost in a nonsensical whirlwind’. Ambitious.

Reporting live from the internet,

Church synod allows Jewish bishops

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The Church of England’s ruling synod has decided that all bishops must be at least 20% Jew, but there are further steps to take before they can be ordained.

Despite criticisms that this was ‘almost as stupid as Christianity itself’ mad churchey types everywhere agreed that the current system was anti-Semitic.

Rowan Williams remarked ‘if it’s good enough for Jesus it’s good enough for bishop[s]’, to which newly bishopped Aaron Adelstein replied ‘Jesus? That tawdry street performer?’.

Since the Catholic church allowed a non-celibate Muslim, ‘Randy’ Rawahah, to be The Pope last yeah the Church of England has been under increasing pressure from pressure group’s such as Steven Spielberg’s ‘The Church of Hitler more like’. This follows Spielberg’s recent revelation that the Ralph Fiennes character in Schindler’s List was actually a subtle allegory of The Church of England.

But while this flippant parody fizzles out it is important to stress that there are arguments on both sides… of the argument:

If The Church of England can’t be racist, sexist, homophobic, anti-Semite, idiotic,… etc, who can be?

I’m satired of this shit,

Cosmopolitan

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10 signs he’s interested:
1) You are currently having sex. etc…

Your body confidence – stripped bare

Want to know what men really think? We’ve been getting real guys to confess all. It’s time to get inside the mind of… Hegel.

Have a good week,