Run The Risk(y Roadz)?

Surely, with the grime-assisted re-birth of hammer-wielding manboy Timmy Mallet, it's now time for Run The Risk's perennial pratfaller, Peter Simon, to re-visit the spotlight?

At the moment, Simon is playing a sort of David-Dickinson-meets-Buster-Keaton role on freeview shopping channel, Bid TV, which basically consists of him repeatedly falling on his face in an attempt to sell pointless crap to bored women.



However, ask anyone (Peter Simon; Peter Simon's family) and they'll tell you that there's much more to the big man than self-harming for consumerism.

So, come on grime MCs: step up to the plate! Skepta, JME and Jammer can rest easy, as they've already been catalytic in Mallet's resurrection, but what about the rest of you? Ghetto, Trim, Tinchy - stick Peter S on a fucking remix!

And don't let it stop there. Badness - why not ask Sarah Greene to produce your next single? Bashy - get Terry Nutkins on the beatbox! Let the worlds of violent urban music and late 80s childrens' television collide!

I really fancy Lykke Li

If you go down to the woods today...

I'd like to tell you a story. It's a true story, and it all happened to me two days ago - 25/06/08. I shall begin at the end, as it seems as good a place as any, and then tell you how I ended up there...

From the hours of 2pm til just before 4pm yesterday I was sat in Windsor Police Station making an official statement. The following is the story of that statement.

Just to set the scene I need to tell you that I'm currently living in Berkshire doing a masters. My final project is on dead and ancient trees in Windsor Great Park, so I spend most days either in open parkland or woodland.

Anyway, I was sitting down on a log minding my own business and recording some tree measurements. I then noticed a man walking passed and thought nothing of it. I carried on writing until a few minutues later when I noticed the same bloke walking in the same direction, had a closer look and realised he was topless. Now this aroused by suspicions and I arose from by log to see what the cunt was up to. And then it all became clear...He was STARK BOLLOCK NAKED AND MASTURBATING as he walked along! I had no idea what to do at first, I was simply outraged! I knew there was a bit of a dodgy car park nearby but did not expect THIS! I didn't know what to do as first - start shouting and attack him? Do one on the quick tip? I quickly decided on the latter option as I thought there could have been more of the dirty bastards in the area, and didn't really want to be in the vicinity of a gang of horny homos.

I quickly gathered my things and did one towards the main road sharpish calling the police on the way, as this was area that I had previously seen families, horseriders and lone female joggers. Within 10 mins I was back at the car park and the police had already shown up with a dog team. So me, a big skinhead police man and a massive Alastian went hunting a homo in the Great Park. We retraced my steps and sure enough found the perv were I'd last seen him. However, this time there was another bummer floating around and homoing in on him. This secondary cottager was swiftly told to do one by the police officer as he and the dog ran at the still naked nonce whilst reading him his rights.

I didn't want to get to close but the police man told me that as he got closer the bloke was struggling to get his shorts back on and had sticking nettle marks all over his genitals and groin. Anyway, the rather unlikely troop of me, the police man, the dog and the nonce traipsed back to the cars where more police were waiting to cart him off. Upon sighting him one of the waiting police stubbed out his cigarette, snap on the floor and snarled, 'Dirty fucking cunt!'

I was then that the filthy bumlord came out with the clincher - 'But I've got to pick my kid up from school' !!!!! He was assured this would be take care of and then carted off, while I head into Windsor to make my statement.

And here we are at the end of what was a strange afternoon for me. It may all end in court in a couple of weeks as I was informed yesterday that he had been charged.

OUT

OH MY FUCKING LIFE

The best thing about this is his dance. His slightly camp dance as he wields a machete and a cleaver.

Another shit advert...

The above picture is taken from the current McCoys Crisps ad campaign, the tag-line of which is 'McCoys: Man Crisps'.

The guy in the picture is being sucked up and out of a pub through a futuristic plastic tube, having revealed to his 'mates' that he has a basic knowledge of ballet. This interest in areas other than football, violence and women with low self-esteem apparently renders him a mincing, nutless schoolgirl - a desperate and laughable excuse for a 'man'. Certainly not 'man' enough to enjoy a big meaty McCoys Crisp. So, it's the tube for him - or should we say 'her'!

Judging by this advert, we understand that McCoys Crisps define a 'man' as a 'boring, pointless, despicable fucking cunt who considers anyone with any originality or dynamism or passion to be a worthless screaming eunuch'.

Most male ballet dancers could probably kick the shit out your average pub-dwelling, McCoy-chomping, Nuts-reading personalityphobe. Lad culture is, and always has been, incredibly depressing and slightly sinister, and anyone who subscribes to it deserves to be castrated with a radio aerial and kicked down a well. Below is a Lad in action:



Here is another from the McCoys canon. Enjoy. Unless you're a homosexual, an intellectual, or someone who isn't a complete CUNT.



"So anyway", says Lad Clone 1, as his oestrogen-heavy pal is pumped swiftly from the establishment, "we all set for Tuesday?". Tuesday being the day that he and his accomplices march furiously through London's art galleries, theatres and libraries, clubbing any males they find to death.

Watch out for forthcoming McCoys Crisps campaigns, including 'McCoys: Not For Faggots', and 'McCoys: All Gay People Are Sub-Human And Deserve To Die'.

Currently pon the Ruffhousing tits...

Those fucking Cobra ads.

"You know Daddy Long Legs'?"
"Yeah"
"Well, what do they call the female ones?!"
"Bloody hell! Barman, we'll need two more Cobras, please - it'll take a while to thrash this one out! Female Daddy Long Legs'! There's a brain teaser!"
"And while we're at it, why is 'abbreviated' such a long word?"
"Christ, it's going to be an all-nighter!"

God, these ads are irritating. They're apparently aimed at fictional groups of 'mates' who have so little in common and are so utterly starved for something - anything - to say to each other when they're down the pub that they have to resort to these pedestrian exchanges of pointless questions. Do these dullards really exist? The day I ask one of my closest friends, "why is it called a 'drive-thru' when you have to stop?" is the day I realise I have no close friends. And the day before I take my own life.

Tom Trouble