Ten signs that you are a moron

We've all wondered from time to time (well, not us, but you) whether or not we're morons. If you have had such thoughts you probably are a complete idiot. But to make it easier for yourselves, we have compiled a list of ten signs to look for when trying to figure out if you are a complete idiot or not. Enjoy.

You know you're a moron when:

1. You own one or several Lighthouse Family albums

2. You wear tracksuits outside a gym

3. You search for the Google homepage using Google

4. You have a mullet

5. You placed a £10 bet that England would qualify for Euro 2008

6. Your favourite author is Andy McNab

7. You believe in Jesus

8. You think Sherlock Holmes is still alive

9. You tell people that you “go college, innit?”

10. You cross your i's with a heart ”because it's cute”

Ten signs that you are a moron, part 2

You know you're a moron when:

1. You regularly pray

2. You take a shit in a pub lavatory before checking the availability of toilet paper

3. You have a daughter called Chelsea, Chardonnay or Chantelle

4. You still use Windows 98 ME

5. You consider a trip to Butlin's a great holiday

6. You voted for Labour only to have your 18 year old son mutilated whilst on military duty in Iraq

7. You think watermelon-flavoured Bacardi Breezers are classy

8. People refer to you as “special”, laugh and then push you in a canal

9. You voluntarily live in Walsall

10. You describe yourself as being “bubbly” (Note: not only is this a certain indicator that you are a moron, it is also a sign that you're fat, have few friends and wet yourself when you get drunk)

Ten ways to avoid a recurring infestation of melancholic mink

Well, what do you think this article is about?



1. Surround yourself with pink fluffy marshmallows, for they are the nemesis of the mink;
2. Wash all minkable surfaces in a generous mixture of bleach, diluted despair and 200 litres of industrial anti-mink;
3. Place an announcement on Facemink, Minkspace, BeMink and other mink social networking sites declaring the unavailability and unsuitability of your premises as a place for recurring or even sporadic infestations of mink;
4. Shoot yourself repeatedly with a gun until dead. It won’t avoid a recurring infestation of melancholic mink, but by then you won’t care (note: this advice is fucking brilliant! It applies to almost every problem ever conceived, devised or encountered. Where’s my knighthood?);
5. Surround yourself with Monks, hence using up all available examples of the letters 'm', 'n' and 'k' and leaving none to be occupied by stray disgruntled members of the Mustelidae family;
6. Convert to Christianity and let Jesus sort it out (note: at time of going to press, it remains uncertain to what extent Jesus, His Lord or whatever other schizophrenic moniker he goes by these days has any jurisdiction over the voluntary mink Diaspora, but as they say, that is His problem);
7. Fight fire with fire and start to infest (with recurring frequency) any abode or other such dwellings known to house concentrations of melancholic mink on the brink of leaving for nefarious purposes. They’ll be too scared to leave in case you have decided to take over their homes or plan to return sometime later for the same purpose in a recurring fashion or indeed manner. Dress in overalls smeared with mink-repellent just to piss them off. Note: may still result in a recurring infestation of melancholic mink. This advice may prove not to work at all. It's pretty much all conjecture until someone tries it, and we sure as hell won't. We're simply too lazy. Besides I'm 32% mink;
8. Create a large wooden see-saw (in the order of 100ft in length). On one end gather together yourself, your home and all your belongings. Drop a double decker bus full of rhinos on the other end. Problem solved. Mink cannot fly.
9. Have your butler politely ask them to leave;
10. Dig a bottomless pit in your home and place signpost pointing towards the pit with the words “Mink? Recurring? Come this way” written in pensive hues, accompanied by a smaller sign underneath saying “life is depressing”. It may seem a cruel trick to play, but trust us, once you’ve had recurring infestations of melancholic mink, any considerations of such nature become wholly obsolete and almost insulting.


Queen Victoria was famusly said to have an odour akin to that of recurring melancholic mink. This in some way explains her bad smell. Also, she was fairly ugly, which didn't help. Ugly but rich.

10 methodologies by which to prevent some jumped-up little prick parking in your space

1: Rip off his head and impale it on a spike next to the space. History teaches us that this is an effective deterrent/healthy snack - dependent on whose history you read.
2: Dig up your parking space, fry it in a little butter and force-feed it to the little shit with a spade. If he refuses, gee him along some with a shot gun. Once he has consumed your parking space he will find it immensely difficult to park on it. Unless he is Brian Harvey.
3: Get yourself on eBay and pick up a tank.






A Challenger II(pictured) should do it. Then you can park wherever the fuck you like.
4: Chop off his head with a machete, considerably reducing his depth perception skills.
5: Disguise your parking space as a Job Centre.
6: Employ a traffic warden and don't feed it. They are more dangerous when they're hungry.
7: Draw a salt pentagram on your space. When he parks there, Satan will belch his foulest minions up through the bottom of his motor and, with careful aiming, directly up his bum-hole. He will hence be dragged kicking and screaming into a burning pit of hideous damnation by his anal sphincter, courtesy of two, miffed, Angels of Death.
8: Report him as a terrorist. He'll be detained without charge for an ever increasing number of days, and with any luck he'll get a good hard sodomizing with a broom-handle into the deal too.
9: Knee-cap him. (Note - only effective if your space has shit disabled access, most do).
10: Excavate your space and fill it with shit and Semtex. Cover with something black. Should he park in your space again, he'll find himself un-parking upwards at quite some velocity. He'll also be covered in shit.

10 alternative uses for a Bible

1: Rough but cheap toilet paper. Good for having a holy shit.
2: Acts as a reminder that progress is a good thing. Makes funny
reading for the rational homo sapiens.
3: Shove it up a Jehovah's Witness's backside. Pleasingly it's an
especially uncomfortable size and shape.
4: Can function as a cheap and sadly plentiful resource for making
Scientologists look taller.
5: Cut a hole in all the pages, it's a smashing place to hide your crack.
6: Can allegedly ward of evil (sadly this doesn't apply to Christians or Jews).
7: Can simlutaneoulsy make a prison sentence seem worse whilst providing material for completing that long-distance origami class.
8: When torn up, mixed with paste, smeared on an inflated balloon and
painted blue, it passes as a monumentally shit Christmas present.
9: The pages can be crumpled up and placed inside wet shoes. The wet shoes can then be placed on the hardback cover and positioned in front of a source of heat like a fireplace (or the gates of hell, for example). Provided the shoes are wet to begin with, they will soon be dry. (Look – it's fucking hard to find ANY proper usage for a bible – give us a break! Carlsson)
10: Makes an excellent "moral" shield behind which to cringe, giving you free reign to exercise prejudices of all kinds, and get round to that genocide project you've had on the back-burner for so long...

10 reasons to accept any offer of employment from a granary bap (pictured)

1: Bereft of olfactory senses, a granary bap will not smell the gin on you.
2: A meeting with a granary bap is likely to be a short, one-sided affair culminating in you getting your own way.
3: There is little chance of you getting pissed at the office Christmas party and trying to shag a granary bap...
4: ... and even if you do, all the incriminating evidence is edible.
5: Granary baps are Equal Opportunities Employers.
6: Having no particular dietary requirements, a granary bap is more likely to let you replace the office canteen with a fridge full of Guinness.
7: Granary baps are good for you, whereas people can be mean.
8: I have never heard anyone complain of getting a shitty e-mail about deadlines, and "your attitude" from a granary bap, nor for that matter from any dough-based food product.
9: It is difficult to heat a normal boss, cover them in butter and then scoff them. Granary baps are considerably more amenable to such advances.
10: Baps are great :)

A Granary Bap (seriously, Google image search for "granary bap"... if you have time. Or not. Yes, I am a loser. Oh fuck off.)




Please note: A granary bap, when filled with cheese, ham or quail, makes a suitable lunchtime repast. Quail.

Ten ways to distinguish a quail from a whale

1. you won’t find lumps of dried krill stuck to the side of a quail’s beak
2. whales tend to be slightly larger than quails, and often with significantly less feathers
3. quail fat does not make for good soap
4. quails are difficult to harpoon, especially when submerged
5. whales’ nests are very shabby, and almost constantly wet
6. quails can fly
7. whale embryos rarely get served at fancy restaurants
8. Although the two species share only one common letter, “a”, they are more often than not spelt entirely differently (does not apply to those languages where this is not the case, such Gruhurrhbands and possibly Cornish)
9. a whale basks, whereas a quail frequently flaps
10. one is a bird and one is a marine mammal



Flemish quail miners, near the Pommeranian border, 1876.

(note: The person on the far left was an extra in UK medical-based TV drama Holby City. He subsequently drowned himself in a vat of stale elk's piss much to the amusement of his peers, all of whom despised him for his success.)

10 reasons why Victor Kayam (if that is his real name) is such a dickhead

1: Victor Kayam doesn't come when you call him (try it...)
2: He sucks at curling.
3: 9 out of 10 cats would not leave their kids with Victor Kayam.
4: God liked him so much, he killed him.
5: Victor Kayam breeds baby rabbits, shatters their legs with an 8 pound lump hammer, and then races them down a flume lubricated with battery acid.
6: Victor Kayam cannot tie his own shoelaces. I can. Ha.
7: I strongly suspect that Victor Kayam was in no small way responsible for the untimely death of my uncle's pigeon.
8. Victor Kayam once puked on himself. He liked it so much, he bought it.
9: Victor Kayam's recipe for "Jerk Chicken" owes nothing to the culinary tradition of the Caribbean, and more than it should to the centre pages of Razzle and the abuse of poultry.
10: Victor Kayam once took a shit on the Bayeux Tapestry, and then blamed it on a group of mentally retarded children on school trip. He later went back, scraped off some of the shit and ate it.