A total moron recently wrote in to say:

Why did I just spam your blog? I spammed it because america is under attack by tyrannical individuals who every day are eroding the bill of rights and constitution of the United States. A wise man once said, (paraphrased) “All it takes for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing”. If you had a chance to stop hitler, napoleon, mao, lenin, or pol pot from coming to power, would you? Or would you blindly look the other way while they killed millions of people? Do you think it cant happen here? If you think it cant or wont happen in the US then you’re nieve, blind or both.

Give him his credit, he identifies that he’s just left spam. But also, don’t give him that credit, actually, because what kind of moron thinks that leaving spam is a valid, proper way to make your political ideas known.

What an incredible cretin. What an absolutely amazing, unsurpassably brain-damaged, self-absorbed pile of worthless crap. Does he really think that doing this kind of stuff is going to help his cause? This is the same as cold-calling. This is like people who turn up on your doorstep to sell rubbish you don’t want. It’s the exact same thing. This kind of spam is worse than the slime posted by invertebrates who try to push penis enlargement drugs, or porn, or loans.

I wish desperate failure upon his spamming campaign. Desperate, expensive failure. I hope his computer gets confiscated. Total moron, may you learn from your mistake and not try to use my blog as a soap-box for your views. That’s my job.

I’ve written a new poem called “Political Correctness” and it’s horribly offensive. It’s got some good use of irony, and a proper rhyming scheme and everything.

Political Correctness — it’s ironic.

Listen up, Spammers, this is the cry of my heart:

I hope you all fall off a bridge.

Join with me now, readers — say it loud, say it proud.

“Spammers, we hope you all fall off a bridge.”

Potatoes are incredible things. You can do all sorts with them. Make them into crisps, make them into chips… the possibilities are endless.

There is nearly always a supply of potatoes to be had. Statistics say that you are never more than 6 feet away from a potato.* I especially like potatoes when they have have been left in a darkened cupboard for weeks. They sit there in the bag and begin to grow. This is something I find magically beautiful, and yet at the same time utterly horrifying.

I like it when this happens because it’s like the magic of life right there in your own kitchen. I studied Biology at uni, and though I found studying for my degree to be one of the hardest, most disheartening things I have ever done, it didn’t kill my sense of awe at the natural world. I find living things absolutely fascinating. I could stare at a tree for hours and not get bored, just thinking of all the things going on inside it. And so it is with my old potatoes in the kitchen cupboard. Life always finds a way. Let sleeping potatoes lie. A potato in time saves nine. Two wrongs do not a potato make. Et cetera.

Interesting sidenote: Like most good compost heaps, the compost heap in my parents’ garden often has a little dynasty of potatoes growing in it. During the autumn, this compost heap becomes a bonfire when my Dad loses patience waiting for last year’s Christmas tree to decompose, and sets the whole thing on fire. The potatoes lie there and bake where they once grew. Depending on how you define the word, that’s irony!

Despite my love for all things living, I also hate, loathe, detest and despise potatoes that have begun to grow. For one thing, it means I’m too lazy to do anything with them, so they’ve just sat there and got on with being organisms, and wasted my money while they were at it.

Mostly, however, they just look really scary. Odd-looking blobs have been in your kitchen, and have put out tentacles all by themselves. I half-expect them to be conscious. You can almost hear them, in hoarse whispering voices, crying out, “help us … help us!” as they send their tender stalks upwards to find light. I wouldn’t be surprised if I woke up in the middle of the night to find that potatoes had climbed upstairs and were about to overcome me with, I don’t know, starch or something. Like something off the X-files, only less exotic and more … well … potato-y.

They have eyes, don’t they — is that not proof enough of their sentience!?

So this is why, as I type, a number of potatoes are currently in my oven, gas mark 9, being slowly turned into food. It’s a one man stand against the tubers. Who will join me in my fight?

Who?

Answer: vegetarians.

* A completely made-up lie.

Writing of late has taken a turn for the worse. This is such a pity. At the moment, all I want to blog about is the fact that I rarely use YouTube because downloads take so long. I watch about half of it, then get irritated and go somewhere else.

Seriously, this is the sum total of what I want to share with the internet at the moment.

Let me see if there’s anything else. This is a blog, after all, so what deep, personal issues can I talk about? Well… I guess I’m happier at the moment than I’ve ever been. Everyone hates reading that on blogs though, so hmm… what quirky funny observations can I make about life to keep you entertained. After all you took the trouble to visit this blog, so you ought to get some sort of recompense. And also, the pink bar at the top there has just scorched your retinas, I should do something to make it up to you.

So what can I babble on about… I had something planned about decaf coffee, so let’s see where that takes us. I love coffee, I’ve been a massive fan of coffee for a couple of years, and as a consequence I have all the pretentious aversions to decaf of a true coffee lover.

Seriously, guys, decaf is evil! Decaf coffee doesn’t actually exist, because once you remove the caffeine it is no longer coffee. I like making pointless stands against things that irritate me. I believe I have already confessed on this blog that I will never give any money to Domino’s pizza. This is not because they are selling dodgy baby milk to Africa, or because they use forced labour, or any other worthy reason for boycotting a company.

No, it is because I hate their stupid adverts that ruin the Simpsons every time you sit down to watch it (British TV). Seriously, that is my motive for avoiding Domino’s. Let’s be honest, I probably don’t care much — at all if I’m honest — but it’s nice to think that somewhere, a Domino’s executive is reading this, saying “Oh bugger, we’ve lost a customer.”

Anyway, my pointless protest against decaf coffee has led me to think up a solution: recaf coffee. This is ordinary, decaf coffee that the undergoes further processing to have the caffeine put back in. Think about it! It’s the perfect ironic protest! You can drink your coffee and be smug, knowing that you are sticking it to the man!

There are a few setbacks to this plan. Firstly, there are probably only about six people in the whole world who would be petty enough to actually buy it. Secondly, all that processing would make the coffee taste absolutely horrible. Thirdly, everyone would get really bored of the protest and just drink real coffee in the first place, so millions of pounds would be completely wasted!

I’m going to use this last paragraph to make one of my classic U-turns and say that those three setbacks are actually reasons to do this. I’m going to write a hoax letter to a coffee company and see what their response is.

‘S good thanks.