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Posts Tagged ‘Heat Readers are brain-dead’


October’s Arse-trology Charts

Saturday, October 10th, 2009
Smoking Monkeys.co.uk

Dear reader, prepared to be astounded and astonished as the Smoking Monkey demonstrates yet another gift in his seemingly endless array of talents and abilities. After years of extensive training at the hands of eastern mystics, and also unravelling the mysteries of one of Russel Grant’s jumpers (and that’s a lot of wool), I have mastered the arts of interpreting the stars to predict the future.

You may mock, and you may scoff. I just have scoffed as a matter of fact, a substantial amount of Chinese food but that’s not relevant right now. How can you deny the science behind astrology? How can anyone question the concept of 1/12 of the population of the whole planet having an identical day purely based on which month they were born in. You fucking nay-sayers, always nay-saying. Just open your mind. Next you’ll be saying that mediums are talking toss as well, and that Derek Acorah is a fraud.

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Posted in: Arse-trology, Thoughts Tags: , , , , , , , , ,


The time has come for a bit of a clear out

Tuesday, January 8th, 2008
smoking monkeys blog

Like many people, I have viewed the new year as an opportunity to get rid of a few unnecessary thing and focus on better, more efficient living. In my case, the things I am aiming to rid myself of are love-handles, a few pounds of pure blubber, and the inability to get into some of my suits.

A few years ago, courtesy of being dragged on painfully lengthy runs by a mate of mine, I was a much more streamlined version of my current corpulant self. However, time (and more significantly a love of fast food and kebabs) have caused my physique to become well wrapped with a few layers of flab. The ultimate humilation has come by virtue of the internet, which informs me that I have a body mass index (BMI) that just slips into the “obese” category. Now, however, it is time to do something about it.

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News review

Tuesday, January 16th, 2007
smoking monkeys blog

Righty ho… well as I’m having a relatively good day, and so far I have not seen Derek Acorah or Jade Goodey on TV, there is no specific thing I fancy writing about. However, I do fancy adding something to this little blog, in the vain hope of amusing and entertaining you dear readers.

And so, I thought I would give a little look at what’s in the papers. It will give our non-UK cousins a chance to get a flavour of the Nation that spawned an empire. In light of this grand aspiration, it is only proper that I use the finest daily publication as my source of news. I speak of course of The Sun:

Starting on a cultural high point, the paper has very patriotically commemorated 300 years of the Treaty of Union between England and Scotland by showcasing “our countries’ gorgeous girls.” It makes a proud Briton’s heart swell to know that the treaty that ended centuries of war, and created one of the leading nations is marked in such a way.

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The British Cult of Celebrity

Sunday, January 14th, 2007
smoking monkeys blog

Good evening ladies and gentleman

Firstly, I will offer a caution and sincere apologies for my current attitude. I am on a major buzz as i have been read by people other than Techno Scouse (Monkeh to some). I have to be honest, and admit I had my doubts that anyone would read this, let alone enjoy it.

Anyway, today’s rant is brought to you by the vacuous chunks of crap that appear to float on the top of the pool of society. I speak of course of the Celebrity culture, documented by the high-class journalism of Heat magazine.

These people are the scabs that drop off pre-fabricated pop groups, or brain-dead slappers who are only known for banging a married footballer. And instead of gently encouraging these unfortunate wasters to get a proper job, what happens? They spend the next 18 months appearing in magazines (usually retelling the same bullshit stories, or being “spotted” in a London club known as a regular haunt for such no-hopers), or appearing on chat shows such as Trisha offering guidance to the unemployed scrubbers who watch.

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