AT A HERON'S FUNERAL. GETTING SOME DIRTY LOOKS. THINK SOME PEOPLE THINK I'M A HYPOCRITE BECAUSE IT WAS ME WHO KILLED THE CUNT.

some                 

     RELIGIONS

London is one of the most multicultural cities in the world. Nowhere else do so many religions and faiths live in such close proximity as people strive to relate humanity to spirituality and moral values, and people have come up with all sorts of wacky bollocks in an attempt to explain the meaning of life. Some people believe in a lad with a elephant's head, some people fancy the idea that the world was made out of clay a few years ago by an old fella and others are pretty sure that we all come from another planet and we just forgot. 

Unfortunately there isn't a shred of evidence to support a single element of any religion which you'd think would be a bit of a problem, but it's not because people have invented something called 'faith' which basically means that they get to stare at you with a smug grin pasted across their stupid face if you ever feel compelled to challenge whatever nonsense they've chosen to dedicate their life to.

One of the things that's always confused me most about religions is the fact that me and my mates don't get a look in. Some humans will spend their entire life enjoying the companionship of animals, but if you ask them if their four legged friend will be waiting for them in heaven then they'll just laugh and carry on trying to flush it down the toilet. 

A blind man can have a guide dog whom he might consider to be his best friend, closest member of family and most loyal servant. The guide dog might save his life, look after him and show him more love than anyone else on Earth, but you ask anyone then they'll tell you that that guide dog isn't getting in. You ask anyone and they'll tell you. in no uncertain terms that St Peter's hammered a big fuck-off, 'No Dogs' sign onto the pearly gates and hammered a bit of wood over the little dog flap made of clouds.  The whole thing's a bit of a kick in the teeth when you remember that humans invented all this ridiculous dogma and it would have been just as easy for them to have said that there was a nice section of afterlife reserved for all of God's creatures. But alas, you lot have decided that we're all destined to float around in the eternal abyss or purgatory. Thanks for that. Arseholes.

Well it turns out that two can play that game. Recently an influx of new religions have been created by animals who've decided to jump on the eternity bandwagon. Personally I'm not interested in joining a single one because some of them sound as daft as the things you lot came up with thousands of years ago. Anyway, Here's a list of animals and what they believe in. 

PIGEONS

RELIGION - Geonism

GOD - Tommy The Chimney

BELIEFS - Geonism is a monotheistic religion. Most Geonists believe in a chimney called Tommy The Chimney, a chimney pot which has a face crudely drawn on the side of it in pen. Pigeons believe that one day the chimney will catch fire and the world will end. They worship Tommy by sitting on top of chimneys and cooing. The footballer Gary Linker is a keen Geonist.

SWANS

RELIGION - The Swan Religion

GOD - A bag in a tree

BELIEFS - Some of them have started worshipping this bag that's got caught up in a tree but they haven't really got the nitty gritty down in terms of beliefs. It's not even really a religion in my opinion. 

RATS

RELIGION - Binduism

GOD - The Four Bins Of The Apocalypse

BELIEFS - Rats believe in four bins which exist in secret locations on the four corners of the globe. The first bin is called 'Tar' and controls famine. The second bin is called 'Plag' and controls disease. The third bin is known as 'Albinus' the bringer of death. The third and final bin is called 'Alan Lamp' and can be found behind Morrison's in Hemel Hemstead. Like finding a bunch of horcrux's, Binduists believe that if they manage to visit each of the bins of the apocalypse then they'll be transformed into humans and spend eternity working at the Daily Mail. 

FOXES

RELIGION - Vulpianity

GOD - Martin Clunes

BELIEFS - Foxes have started worshipping Martin Clunes. Vulpians believe that if they pay homage to him by leaving things in his back garden (condoms and Milkybars etc) then he won't lay down his wrath upon them. It won't work because Clunes has an unquenchable appetite for attacking foxes. The other day he ran out 

of his wendy house and booted me as hard as he could in the bollocks. 

OWLS

RELIGION - Sexychristian

GOD - Sexy Chris

BELIEFS - Something about a magical pig? I don't know. I wasn't really concentrating. I don't think this is a real religion. I think Sexy Chris is talking out of his fucking arse.

A LIST OF REASONS WHY I'LL NEVER BE THE KING OF ENGLAND

1. I'm a fox
2. .
3. .
4. .
5. .
6. .
7. .
8. .
9. .
10. .
11. .
12. .
13. .
14. .
15. Also Prince Charles once saw me murder a dog and then fuck it in the head so I doubt he'll put in a good word.

MUSIC                  

     FESTIVALS

Everybody loves summer. It's quiet, clean, warm, dry, relaxing and peaceful. In the summertime people can go outdoors and find some space and forget about all the months they've spent in buses and tubes, crammed up against other damp plebs, as they invade each other's personal space in an attempt to avoid the disgusting drizzle outside. In the summer you can wander about in your own world, sit in a field and chill out for a bit before everything turns shit again in Autumn. It's important to have an affair with the sun now before the rain finds out and starts beating you up and calling you a cunt again. Why then do people choose to go to Glastonbury Festival? A long weekend in a wet field surrounded by pissed students talking bollocks, old people who stink and the grand spectrum of bastards in between. I enjoy repulsive conditions as much as the next guy (probably quite a lot more in fact) but even I don't really like the sound of being in a Portaloo while some passing jester decides it might be funny to tip it over and set it on fire. I don't like the sound of sitting opposite my mate Sexy Chris after he's gobbled down loads of ketamine and watch as he tries to eat his own legs (again). I don't like the idea of getting trench foot and standing in a field full of so many people that it feels like I'm a member of a First World War recreation society that's got way out of hand, and I certainly don't like the idea of watching Mumford and Sons.

Luckily, these days, there are hundreds of smaller scale festivals all over the country for people who like spending 100 times less money, watching bands that are 100 times crapper and generally having 100 times less fun. Think what an average time you could have at the Bromyard Folk Festival this year. And just imagine how OK the Didmarton Bluegrass Festival might be if you gave it chance. And that's just the start of it because the music festival phenomenon is taking the animal kingdom by storm and I've got exclusive details regarding some events that are so underground that some of them are actually underground. Avoid the crowds this summer, check out some of these festivals and tell your friends you were there. They'll be really jealous / worried about you. 

RATFEST

LOCATION - In a skip on the industrial estate in Tottenham Hale. (Someone's written the word 'Minge' on the side of the skip in red paint if that helps.)
GENRE - There are 3 stages and they're all mainly punk and extreme metal.  

WHO'S PLAYING? Plague, Ratt, The Bubonics, Gnawvax, BigMouse 4, Roland etc

ARE JEWS ALOUD IN? - Yes. Jews are very welcome.
ABOUT -  Not really a family festival but good if you like loud music and hundreds of rats. Last year a gypsy turned up and killed everyone with a mallet. Great toilet facilities. 

FEST IN THE TIP

LOCATION - The tip near the Winnersh flyover 
GRENRE - Mainly pop music. They also have a stage where seagulls can listen to bhangra.  
WHO'S PLAYING? - Some frogs? I think some frogs are playing. I saw some frogs play last year and they were great. Also Mika is playing.

IS IT SPONSORED BY MARMITE? No, it's not. No.ABOUT -  Nice little festival in the middle of a working tip. It's cleaner than Glastonbury and the food's better than Reading and Leeds. I went last year with my mate Sam Hamper and we saw a bulldozer, a knackered old fridge and a really poorly crow. It was great. 10/10

APPLE CORE FESTIVAL 

LOCATION - In the bins at St Thomas' Primary School in Deptford
GRENRE - Ambient/Trance/Tropical  
WHO'S PLAYING? - Mainly wasps.

WHO IS THE BEST WASP? Probably Owen Bunting. Having said that that though, Keiron Cooper's on good form at the moment.  

ABOUT -  Festival in a bin featuring hundreds of wasps 'performing' on and old apple core. Hypnotic droning sounds. $800 per ticket.

DRAINAGE FEST

LOCATION - Down the Drains
GRENRE - Spoken word / comedy
WHO'S PLAYING? - An eel, some mice, a snake that's trapped in a pipe, Rhod Gilbert and a dragonfly called Alex Biscuit. 

PROSTITUTES? Yes. Calm down. There'll be plenty of prostitutes for everyone.ABOUT -  Nice little spoken word and comedy festival that happens every year down the sewers. Apparently this year Alex Biscuit is going to be reading some poems he's written about ponds. Can't wait. 

FOXJAM

LOCATION - All over London
GRENRE - Screaming, sex noises and tedious barking
WHO'S PLAYING? - Me, Double Denim David, Vile Clive, Rufus Beard. All the usual rusty rotters basically.
WILL FERN COTTON BE THERE? Unfortunately she has been before so, maybe. 
ABOUT - We all meet in some poor fucker's garden at about 2am and all have sex and start fighting. We don't stop until the morning. Sometimes the person in the house starts shouting at us and crying and calling us all a bunch of ginger cunts. We try and do it every single night throughout summer. It's brilliant.

Via Shortlist Magazine - http://shortlist.com/cool-stuff/music-festivals

I JUST GLASSED A DUCKLING AND NOW EVERYONE'S GIVING ME A HARD TIME.

HOW TO ACT LIKE A RIGHT BELLEND
this summer

The sun's finally made an appearance for the first time in about two years which is good because I've started to cultivate a large wad of moss around my undercarriage. Hopefully now there will be a chance to dry out and maybe even have a nice time before we plunge back into the shitty eternity of winter. Obviously it won't last more than a couple of days and then billions of gallons of water will fall out of the sky again until we all either drown or commit suicide, so I suppose we should appreciate it while it lasts.
Here are some things you can do to enjoy the nice weather and spoil it for everyone else.

1 - BBQ IN THE PARK
One of the most popular summer activities is a BBQ in the park with friends and it's really easy to act like a right prick whilst you're doing it. 
You should start the day by drinking Kestrel Super Strength Lager at about 10:30am. At about midday pile into a park that's already teaming with people and find a small patch of dirt. Once you've dropped all your shit then it's time to turn on your music (make sure your choice of music is absolutely abysmal - how about a spot of gabber techno?)
Fire up the BBQ, remove your shirt and start shouting.
Boot a football around making sure that it mainly hits women and children.
Do this for about 10 hours.
By the time the sun goes down you should be bright red. You should look like a skinned pig. The combination of undercooked sausages, shitty beer and sunburn will more than likely have transformed you into an aggressive maniac and everyone within a 100 metre radius will probably think you're a cunt. Good job. 

2 - DRIVE AROUND

When the sun comes out it's important to spend as much time as you can driving around in your car, because what's the point in having a car if strangers can't see you driving around in it? The best thing to do is to drive around the local area for absolutely no reason at all. 

Remove your shirt and start shouting.

Wind down the windows and blast terribly average pop music out of them at full volume. You might look like a hard arse but listening to something like JLS or Luther Vandross will ensure that you look like a fucking berk. Make sure that you have an expression of undeserved smugness smeared across your stupid face at all times. People will die of jealously when they see that you've got your very own Renault Clio. 

3 - DRESS LIKE A KNOB

This should be fairly straight forward. Most high street shops will try their level best to make you look like a right twonk. Wander round. Check them all out. 

My mate Sexy Chris has started wearing sandals and denim shorts. Sandals and denim shorts is a pretty good good look if you're not a tawny owl who lives inside a fuse box in Hoxton. I hate Sexy Chris so much that it makes my eyes bleed.

4 - GO TO THE SEASIDE

Every single year there will be a very small heat-wave that crops up on a weekend. Usually the best thing to do is to hop on a train to somewhere like Brighton or Camber Sands with every single other cunt from London and find a beach. Obviously when you get there you'll be bitterly disappointed that the whole experience doesn't re-ignite all your memories of going to Sri Lanka in 2003 like you thought it might. Well we're in a recession so it's the best you can do. No need to try and act like a bell end in this scenario because you've already done it by going in the first place. 
(I once went to the British coast by accident. I got on a train at Charing Cross and it went all the way to Hastings. It's one of the worst places I've ever been. The entire place was governed by seagulls and al the people looked like stone gargoyles that had crawled out of the roof of a cathedral. Dreadful.)

5- TALK ABOUT YOUR HAY FEVER

Start sniffing and sneezing and chatting about pollen to everyone every five minutes. That'll be fascinating for everyone. Nobody gives a fuck. I hope it fucking kills you. 

THINGS YOU CAN 

DO WITH YOUR

TAIL

if you have a tail

• Use is to clean blood off a gypsy
• You could suck Reggae Reggae sauce out of it
• Waft it in a slut's face
• Shove it into Sexy Chris' mouth until he starts to actually die
• Smash it round a swan's head 
• Swish away mosquitos on a hot day
• Dip it in the canal to annoy all the eels / trouts
• Shove it up Gary Plough's fucking massive arse.
• Use it to smear garage door paint all over a hen
• Use it as a sort of puppet to entertain someone with Down's Syndrome
• Stick it through a cat flap to upset an elderly lady
• Sweep all the corpses out of your bungalow
• You can cut it off and post it to Matthew Kelly's PO Box.
• Shave it and then glue all the hair back on and then shave it again and then glue the hair back on again (repeat this process for the rest of your life) 
• Use it to cast spells on your enemies (This is only works if your tail has magical powers)
• Get very self conscious about the fact that it's caked in shit and start crying about it
• Set it on fire to impress a bunch of ducks.

DREAM DIARY

a description of some recent dreams

MONDAY

It all started in a sort of cave. We were in a cave but it was also raining quite heavily. The whole gang was there (Colin Hong, Keith Rice, James The Haemophiliac Wood Pigeon, etc). The floor of the cave was sort of transparent, as though it was made of glass / crystal. When I looked down I could see all the stars and planets orbiting one another, almost as if we were stood on the edge of the galaxy, looking down over the entire solar system as time moved forwards at millions of light years per second. In the middle of the cave was a tower / church. Everything started to go purple. We went inside the tower and started to climb the stairs which were made of snakes. When we got the top Keith Rice did a shit that looked like Jesus Christ and then I woke up.

TUESDAY

This one started in the sea. I was sat in a boat with Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall. He kept shooting wood lice at me through a tube of Smarties and I was getting really fed up. We went over a waterfall but it was sort of upside down so we went up into the sky if you can imagine such a thing. When we got up there Hugh had turned into a puffin. He spent the rest of the dream trying to get me on board with his idea to open a factory that produces ball bearings for industrial machinery. I politely declined and his head burst into flames and then I woke up.

WEDNESDAY

Don't remember much about this one. Don't think I had a very good night's sleep owing to the fact that Martin Clunes kept crawling into my den and slapping me around the face with his penis.

There was something in this dream that I remember actually. There was something about a really poorly horse but I can't remember how it fitted in.

THURSDAY

It started down by the canal behind Kwik Fit. I was trying to find something (food? Could have been food I suppose). Suddenly I noticed all my legs were attached to various ropes and pulleys and I couldn't move. A tramp appeared. It was the one that always hangs around this neck of the woods. The one who dresses like a cowboy and spends the day calling all the ducks a bunch of wankers. The tramp started using me as a puppet and I burst into tears. When I opened my eyes I was in an aeroplane. I was strapped to Gary Lineker's chest and we jumped out. Gary opened his parachute and it ripped his arms off and he started laughing. We fell for what felt like ages until we crashed into the water. I tried to swim to the surface but it was no use as I was being held under by some sort of current. I looked down to see my mate Sexy Chris swimming towards me. He had sort of like a mermaid's tail and a pair of human breasts. He popped one of his tits in my mouth which acted like a scuba diving respirator and I swan to the surface to be greeted by the cast of Dragon's Den who'd all chipped in and bought me a cake. 

Then I woke up.

FRIDAY

Had the recurring dream I always have about a donkey with gout.

SATURDAY

I looked in the mirror and my head was made of wasps. Hundreds and hundreds of the buggers. I yawned and my jaw fell off and grew a set of tiny little wheels before driving off into the sunset.

(That was the start of my dream. I'd just eaten quite a lot of rancid ham that i'd found in the bins behind Co-Op so I only have myself to blame to be honest).

I looked up at the sky and the clouds all sort of coagulated and turned into Judy Finnigan's head. The head started smiling at me but then changed it's mind and started crying. After a few seconds a swan flew out of Judy Finnigan's mouth and started calling me every name under the sun. I started to run away. I ran so fast that I travelled back in time. There was a large explosion. I was sat in a forest dressed like a Beefeater and all the trees were keys. At the end of the dream a frog minced up to me, stuck a key in my eye socket and opened up my head and started filling it with soil. 

I woke up in the corner of my pit sweating and vomiting. Cwis Packham said I had a fever so he took my temperature by putting a thermometer up my bottom. It wasn't a thermometer though, it was a Toffee Crisp. Packham found this about 100 times more amusing than I did. 

SUNDAY

Had a dream that me and Vile Clive built a helicopter out of Alpen. We kept bickering because Clive said it wouldn't fly unless it was wearing a wig. It turned out that it didn't fly because it was made of Alpen. At the end of the dream Vile Clive got raped by a dolphin. 

:MEMORIES 

         SOME OF MY FAVOURITE BINS 

249 KINGSLAND ROAD, DALSTON, E2

This was a couple of years ago now but I remember it as if it were yesterday. It was green/black/metal coloured . 

There was more rubbish in the front garden than there was inside the actual bin. It was one of those kinds of front gardens if you know what I mean. The owner of the house was obviously some kind of useless gypo or perhaps they were just a bit depressed/retarded. 

The lid didn’t fit properly so it was easy to get into. I remember the smell. Inside it there was a human head covered in ants.

18 MILDMAY PARK, ISLINGTON, N1

I found this one on bin night. It had three bags inside and they were all full of really old yoghurts.

I opened all the bags and smeared the contents all over some poor cunt’s driveway.

The smell was abysmal. I remember it burning my eyes. I bumped into my mate Dane Tuppence on the way home and he said my eyes were actually bleeding a bit. That’s how bad it smelled. 

Absolutely first class. I still think about that bin sometimes and I get a lump in my throat. Very moving.

3 PIPER CLOSE, N7

It was a black plastic bin (boring). It was behind Budgens. When I climbed inside it it took off like a space rocket and I started to travel back in time and I grew a magnificent set of antlers. I floated through space and had sex with Sir Trevor McDonald in the middle of a meteor shower and then I exploded and woke up under a bench on Hampstead Heath.
My mate Vile Clive reckons that I probably just ate something weird and ended up getting raped in the park but I’m not sure. I like my version better.

187 PLIMSOLL ROAD, FINSBURY PARK, N4

Well it was red and very large. Some people would probably say it was more of a bottle bank and they’d be well within their rights to do so.

I remember all the slugs. Hundreds and hundreds of fucking slugs.

(Monster Munch? Did I see a packet of Monster Munch in there as well?)

There was a tramp who lived inside it. He was naked and shouting something about Peter Beardsley’s gran. He was covered in broken glass.

He put his hand up his own arse and started crying.

That was a good experience. I liked that.

DOWN BY THE CANAL

I visited this one with my mate Sexy Chris. It was a public bin. It was black and the local council’s logo was embossed on the side in gold (posh). It was near some canal boats and next to a bench. I’ve never seen anything quite like this before but the bin was full to the brim with human tods. If I had to hazzard a guess why then I’d say that one of the canal boat residents had emptied a septic tank into the bugger. Why? I don’t know why.

I plunged Sexy Chris into the contents as hard as I could. 

He almost drowned and he was extremely unwell for several weeks afterwards.

It was one of the best days of my life.