There was a time, not so long ago actually, when Britain ruled most of the known world flogging natives, drinking tea and annihilating the French. However, following a rather nasty spate of violence called the World Wars (One and Two!) this all slipped away into obscurity, and Britain became the quirky little island in the top and slightly west bit of Europe.
Since then the former Imperial Colonies and Protectorates have crashed and burned, with those that did not join the commonwealth suffering from various dictators, and some of the African Commonwealth nations living in horrific poverty. India, you may argue has done rather well from their independence but if you thought this, you would be wrong. India has horrific poverty, and is fit to bursting with an outdated caste system that only slows down the nation.
However, Britain is also in up the proverbial creek without a paddle, with a recession a population of dribbling neanderthals hell bent on burning down London every time prices go up and the EU being total morons. Long gone are the days of national glory and pride, and instead we have ushered in an age of socialist idealism, where it is good to be weak and poor, in so long as we are all as weak and poor as everyone else.
So, heres the solution, we have a little meet and greet session with the commonwealth and former imperial nations, and join up, knock down all those nasty trade barriers, and then move on to better things. In return for a minute percentage of their tax revenues, our needy nations could gain access to British engineers and economists to help kick start their nations in the 21st century. Usher in a knew age of reason and science, human advancement, that would see England shedding it's ties with the EU, it's people happy and content, and its vassals nice and cozy beneath us, benefiting just as much as us from Imperialism.
Oh no! I hear you say, not the Imperial Menace, that only causes slavery, and horrifying hardships and unfairness! Oh no! I reply, the last 90 Years of the Empire was the longest period of peace and happiness ever in all of recorded British history. We have learnt from out mistakes ie: taxing the Americans not giving Indians votes, so we wont make those same mistakes again.
As all you hippies and socialists say, Humans are supposed to work together, so why don't we, in a way that has worked time and time again for centuries, Imperialism.
Thank you, that will be all, as always hippes, feel free to comment ( you never do) and I will feel free to insult you.
Friday, 23 November 2012
Thursday, 8 November 2012
Why stupid people should not be considered citizens in any form.
Lets face it, nobody likes idiots. They do not, in any way contribute to society, they are drains on our resources, time, and above all our patience. As such I think they should be rounded up and put to work for little or no money in mines and factory's. We should draft every 5th idiot into the army, where they can lay down their pitiful lives for the glory of the state.
Idiot's by definition, are stupid, drooling morons, who have no idea how to use use that grey pile of mush that they have the cheek to call a brain. The only thing they can do is follow basic one word instructions, such as walk, open, close, carry, and die. This is why they should not be allowed to vote, live of benefits or have their views and opinions considered in any way.
Therefore they should be assigned a master, an educated person who can utilize them as "human resources". Maybe everyone who is intelligent could form groups, so you would have all the economists, all the historians of latin literature, all in different groups, each of them leading a factory, or something. Clever people, wealthy people who could put the small minded morons of the world to work, for the benefit of them and of course society in general.
Watch as the worlds problems dissolve, when we have a Roman and Greek system, whereby only those who have the wit to earn over a certain amount of money, have the right to decide anything. On a serious note, only those who pay into the system can decide how it is run. Maybe then the morons of the world would actually achieve something, other than wasting all our money on flat-screen TV's and narcotics.
Yes people, bring back the Plutocracy, put the educated in charge, and leave the idiots to what they do best, following instructions, working for the benefit of the state and of society in general. You may think its extreme, but it worked for the Romans, it worked for the Greeks, it worked the British Empire, so perhaps it would work today.
To conclude my post, I have attached these images, so all you intelligent people can identify a moron, and enact the proper judgement upon him.
.
Idiot's by definition, are stupid, drooling morons, who have no idea how to use use that grey pile of mush that they have the cheek to call a brain. The only thing they can do is follow basic one word instructions, such as walk, open, close, carry, and die. This is why they should not be allowed to vote, live of benefits or have their views and opinions considered in any way.
Therefore they should be assigned a master, an educated person who can utilize them as "human resources". Maybe everyone who is intelligent could form groups, so you would have all the economists, all the historians of latin literature, all in different groups, each of them leading a factory, or something. Clever people, wealthy people who could put the small minded morons of the world to work, for the benefit of them and of course society in general.
Watch as the worlds problems dissolve, when we have a Roman and Greek system, whereby only those who have the wit to earn over a certain amount of money, have the right to decide anything. On a serious note, only those who pay into the system can decide how it is run. Maybe then the morons of the world would actually achieve something, other than wasting all our money on flat-screen TV's and narcotics.
Yes people, bring back the Plutocracy, put the educated in charge, and leave the idiots to what they do best, following instructions, working for the benefit of the state and of society in general. You may think its extreme, but it worked for the Romans, it worked for the Greeks, it worked the British Empire, so perhaps it would work today.
To conclude my post, I have attached these images, so all you intelligent people can identify a moron, and enact the proper judgement upon him.
.
Attached is an image of the superior classes, namely those with brains.
So, next time your out and about, and you see a moron, please, don't hesitate to relentlessly insult him, and rest safe in the knowledge that one day, we shall send him to the mines.
Saturday, 13 October 2012
'Demo 2012'
Hopefully using this as a title will mean it gets a lot of views, thanks to the wonders of the Google search engine. However, I would take this opportunity to point out this blog post is actually about that which the title alludes to.
Last year a good few thousand students took to the streets of London, the Capital City on our Nation, a City that it is fair to say much of the world look's to, and is often seen in global news as a shining example of western civilization. London is one of the most successful cities in the world, so it is only natural that any protesters would use this location to rally as a good publicity stunt. I have no issue with free speech, in so long as it is done in moderation, and in an orderly fashion.
Of course, the NUS will tell you that it was intended to be orderly, but I disagree. It would take a total and utter moron to allow this to happen, by accident, on a rally you organised:
Last year a good few thousand students took to the streets of London, the Capital City on our Nation, a City that it is fair to say much of the world look's to, and is often seen in global news as a shining example of western civilization. London is one of the most successful cities in the world, so it is only natural that any protesters would use this location to rally as a good publicity stunt. I have no issue with free speech, in so long as it is done in moderation, and in an orderly fashion.
Of course, the NUS will tell you that it was intended to be orderly, but I disagree. It would take a total and utter moron to allow this to happen, by accident, on a rally you organised:
Just to clarify here, at which point was incinerating buildings supposed to be considered peaceful? At what point in the grand democratic peaceful NUS plan did it read ''Burn the Capital'. Maybe the plan was rather basic, and read as follows:
Plan for Rally 2011
- Go to London on free bus travel, paying congestion charges and clogging the atmosphere with toxic fumes, regardless of our 'Green' policies.
- Get out of buses, and have lunch paid for using our government grants.
- Burn London
- PROFIT
This plan, as succinct and concise as it is, was not very successful, as this year, they are going to go and do it all again! This probably shows to a human with a basic intelligence level that last years protests did not work. In fact, I remember England being a laughing stock for a good few weeks, as the rest of the world looked at our great nation, and saw that the people in higher education didn't like the tragic realization that they actually had to pay for it.
Its a really bizarre concept that this:
Actually has to be:
A) Earned,
B) Spent in return for other things (like a university education that will give you a massive boost into the job market)
I quite obviously get a lot of grief for going to a private school, as I had to pay for it, and that makes me posh. However, I remind all the students thinking of striking, you CHOSE to go into paid education (Uni) I was PLACED there by my parents. You CHOSE to have to pay for your education so do not be surprised when the prices go up.
You cannot sit in your homes and rant about how the privileged should pay more tax, and then with your next breath get cross when your fee's go up. The very second you start paying for education for a privileged that will advance you in the workplace, you fall into the Privileged bracket, and should be paying more as-well.
By all means, go out and protest, its your right in this nation. But the very second you start turning violent, you loose all right to have your views heard in my opinion. Here's some numbers for you:
5 Deaths,
16+ members of the public injured,
186 police officers, 3 PCSO's, and 5 Police Dogs injured.
So, before you all run of up to London and go 'on a march' look at the facts. Your better of paying your fee's in the current way anyway, its all in installments, so its cheaper by the week. Next time you think about going, look at the numbers before you riot and then call 'Police Brutality' last time 16 members of the public, who where throwing petrol bombs at the police where injured, compared to 186 police officers.
Anyone who goes to this rally is in my opinion an utter moron, who only wants to cause havoc.
Next time you think riots would be a good idea:
Just look at that, and tell me what your doing is correct.
This is Aaron Newbury, one of the very few students who appears capable of using their brain to realize that rioting is not the answer.
Thursday, 11 October 2012
Queue Jumping
This, is a line of people, otherwise known in the modern and civilized world as a Queue. Up until a few days ago I firmly believed that in England this concept of forming a line was sacred and holy. However, I was proven wrong when a few days ago as I stood in Starbucks holding a sandwich and a fist full of money a group of young women decided to prance past me in the queue, and smile and wave as they did so. The queue was long, but nobody else noticed, as they where males who decided that as the people who had decided to jump in front of us where female, they would not respond.
This was not the case with me, and my inner posh fury bubbled up to it's highest level: Severe Indignation. I looked at the people and cut their childish giggling short as I erupted into the following speel:
"Excuse me ladies, but in case you have not noticed, there is a very long queue here, which you have just jumped. Are you aware how queues work? No? I guessed not. Allow me to explain. When you see a line of people, what you do, is get to the back of that line and wait, like intellgient human beings, worthy of being at a University. You do not lumber forwards, smiling and waving as you do so, in an attempt to form a dis-organised mob at the front of this shop."
One of the women-folk looked at me, and said "F*** off" this made me even more angry, and I replied:
"You are really not doing yourself any favors here. In response to a well worded argument you tell me to F*** off, you really are lowest form of human life. Know, on behalf of everyone else in this queue, a concept you have yet to appreciate, take your things, and go. Come back later, when you have managed to develop something above the size of a pea inside that thing you call a skull"
Several members of the queue started to clap, as the group of horrified ladies left Starbucks to go and develop brains, one of them even apologized to me when they saw me later on in the day.
Mission accomplished ladies and gentlemen.
Monday, 24 September 2012
Socialists, Socialists everywhere
Today I had my first lecture and seminar, where I met the people I would be studying with for the next 4 years of my pitiful life. As I arrived at the Lee's lecture hall, I noticed it was full. Casually, I wandered in unafraid that I may have arrived late. I sat down as the Student Union told us how awesome they apparently were, and why we should all vote Labour. A part of me died inside as I realised I was the only conservative in the room.
As the lecture proceeded I decided to check my timetable, and to my horror noticed I was in the wrong lecture. A large chunk of me died. Half an hour later I was in a new lecture, the one I was actually supposed to be in. Realizing I was at last in an Economics group, I began to feel happy and warm inside. Then I released as the student Union hippie lady spoke, that this was actually a meeting for more socialists.
Having survived two lectures by socialist students, I went to my first seminar where I was greeted by a man asking me what school I went to. I responded saying to the Professor "I went to a private school" and it just so happened that I said this in one of those awkward silences that occasional sweeps a room. Naturally everyone heard, and I was judged immediately as being a posh, rich twat. This was probably a correct assumption, but I fear nothing, and my years of upper class training kicked in. I adopted a stiff upper lip, and sat back down.
Over the next few moments, the anti rich jokes came thick and fast, until I silenced them all asking one simple question:
"Why are you studying a finance course at University, if not to become rich?"
The silence was appealing, as my fellow course mates realized the tragic truth of my words. We have since reached a non-verbal, mutual agreement: I will not mention exactly why they are doing this course, and they in return will not kill me in my sleep.
I personally think it is a good agreement.
This is Aaron Newbury, reporting on his first day of uni!
Sunday, 9 September 2012
University
The end is coming.
I have lived in the South West of England all my life, and for 12 years I have lived in the same small village, with the same two people, my Mum and Dad.
The only time I spent away from this Village was in a foster home is Portsmouth, but we won't go into that (so ha!).It really feels strange to actually, finally, be moving away from it all. I go to university in 6 days and have my driving test in 5, so as you can imagine, its a pretty stressful week for me all round really.
However, I am not worried about my driving test. Instead, I am absolutely terrified about going to university. No, really I am.Its a weird time to be in my head; there is an odd mixture of excitement and a little dash of terror running around in there. Questions buzz through my rather empty brain, what if I run out of money? What if I don't fit in? And what's going to happen?
But being me, I have adopted my usual ethos, and will just simply not care about it until I arrive. I wholeheartedly intend to turn up to my accommodation, and then invite myself into the homes of my neighbours.
I am good at that; flamboyant spontaneity. I shall arrive at their homes, as there will not be many of us arriving on the day I do, and will do my best to introduce myself in my usual way.After all, if they don't like it, they can always keep it to themselves?
This brings me onto my other final point, something I remind anyone starting uni: Everyone is in that same boat as you. In my case, my boats probably a lot more bizarre than theirs, and lacks the life ring of having a social life (really, the highlight of my social life so far has been winning the egg and spoon race).
But that's not the point. I am sure they are all as scared as me, and I can only help by arriving at their doors late in the evening. I mean who doesn't love the eccentric stranger who randomly turns up without warning?That's all from me today.
I may post again tomorrow, but if I don't, get over it yeah?
I have lived in the South West of England all my life, and for 12 years I have lived in the same small village, with the same two people, my Mum and Dad.
The only time I spent away from this Village was in a foster home is Portsmouth, but we won't go into that (so ha!).It really feels strange to actually, finally, be moving away from it all. I go to university in 6 days and have my driving test in 5, so as you can imagine, its a pretty stressful week for me all round really.
However, I am not worried about my driving test. Instead, I am absolutely terrified about going to university. No, really I am.Its a weird time to be in my head; there is an odd mixture of excitement and a little dash of terror running around in there. Questions buzz through my rather empty brain, what if I run out of money? What if I don't fit in? And what's going to happen?
But being me, I have adopted my usual ethos, and will just simply not care about it until I arrive. I wholeheartedly intend to turn up to my accommodation, and then invite myself into the homes of my neighbours.
I am good at that; flamboyant spontaneity. I shall arrive at their homes, as there will not be many of us arriving on the day I do, and will do my best to introduce myself in my usual way.After all, if they don't like it, they can always keep it to themselves?
This brings me onto my other final point, something I remind anyone starting uni: Everyone is in that same boat as you. In my case, my boats probably a lot more bizarre than theirs, and lacks the life ring of having a social life (really, the highlight of my social life so far has been winning the egg and spoon race).
But that's not the point. I am sure they are all as scared as me, and I can only help by arriving at their doors late in the evening. I mean who doesn't love the eccentric stranger who randomly turns up without warning?That's all from me today.
I may post again tomorrow, but if I don't, get over it yeah?
Sunday, 2 September 2012
Doctor Who: A Review
Firstly, I would just like to let you all know I have no intention of apologizing for my recent lack of posts, your big children get over it. I am sure there is something you could be doing instead of caring about the lack of posts on this Blog, like watching Jeremy Kyle, getting drunk of seducing fat people, it seems to be one of the few things humanity is consistently doing other than killing itself of.
Anyway, to more important business. Yesterday (2.9.12) I watched the first episode of the current series of Doctor Who, and was shocked, and horrified at what I was forced to witness. The episode opened with the lovely Karen Gillan prancing around on a staircase pouting at a camera (which her estranged husband Rory took the liberty of pointing out later on), and then proceeded to jump face-first onto a Dalek Battle fleet. This bit was where the episode was at its Zenith of greatness, Karen Gillan doing what she is best at, looking good and not speaking, and the Whoniverse showing is a massive warfleet of the most feared creatures in all existence, the Daleks. Then, disaster, Karen Gillan spoke (which I think she says is her 'acting') and the Daleks revealed that they where actually rather soft.
Dalek Parliament
"Its not just any spaceship, its the parliament of the Daleks!"
It was horrifying, my vision of the Dalek race was crushed into thousands of tiny pieces, I looked down at them in utter and total contempt, all the respect I had for the Daleks vanished, and was replaced with a sad and cold truth. The Daleks had a parliament.
Long gone are the days of "EXTERMINATE" and instead they have been replaced with:
Dalek 1: "Permission to speak Mr Speaker!"
Mr Speaker: "Granted!"
Dalek 1: "Mr Prime-minster, is it true you intend to conquer and annihilate all life, when the trade deficit stands at twice our GDP?"
Dalek Prime-minister: "Yes!"
Dalek 1: "This is outrageous! We did not vote for this!"
Dalek 2: "I motion we break for lunch, then vote the motion: This house would destroy all life in the universe!"
Yes, its true, the Daleks officailly have to vote on what to do. Do they invade to universe, or do they build a new orphanage for lost Daleks, who's parents have been killed in one of the Daleks many, many wars? Unfortunatly, the Daleks no longer have an Emperor, instead they have a parliamentary democracy, maybe the series finale of Doctor Who will be entitled:
Doctor Who: The Dalek Expenses Scandle!
Screw the rest of the review, I am stopping here! The Daleks have a damn parliament, its wrong on so many levels, maybe the new daleks where painted different colors for this very reason. The Purple ones are Conservatives, the Red Labour, and the yellows lib dem!
In conclusion, congratulations BBC, you have officially ruined Doctor Who. Shut it down, bring back Russel and Tennant, and actually write some decent story lines.
It was all going so well......
That's all from me today!
Aaron Newbury
Anyway, to more important business. Yesterday (2.9.12) I watched the first episode of the current series of Doctor Who, and was shocked, and horrified at what I was forced to witness. The episode opened with the lovely Karen Gillan prancing around on a staircase pouting at a camera (which her estranged husband Rory took the liberty of pointing out later on), and then proceeded to jump face-first onto a Dalek Battle fleet. This bit was where the episode was at its Zenith of greatness, Karen Gillan doing what she is best at, looking good and not speaking, and the Whoniverse showing is a massive warfleet of the most feared creatures in all existence, the Daleks. Then, disaster, Karen Gillan spoke (which I think she says is her 'acting') and the Daleks revealed that they where actually rather soft.
Dalek Parliament
"Its not just any spaceship, its the parliament of the Daleks!"
It was horrifying, my vision of the Dalek race was crushed into thousands of tiny pieces, I looked down at them in utter and total contempt, all the respect I had for the Daleks vanished, and was replaced with a sad and cold truth. The Daleks had a parliament.
Long gone are the days of "EXTERMINATE" and instead they have been replaced with:
Dalek 1: "Permission to speak Mr Speaker!"
Mr Speaker: "Granted!"
Dalek 1: "Mr Prime-minster, is it true you intend to conquer and annihilate all life, when the trade deficit stands at twice our GDP?"
Dalek Prime-minister: "Yes!"
Dalek 1: "This is outrageous! We did not vote for this!"
Dalek 2: "I motion we break for lunch, then vote the motion: This house would destroy all life in the universe!"
Yes, its true, the Daleks officailly have to vote on what to do. Do they invade to universe, or do they build a new orphanage for lost Daleks, who's parents have been killed in one of the Daleks many, many wars? Unfortunatly, the Daleks no longer have an Emperor, instead they have a parliamentary democracy, maybe the series finale of Doctor Who will be entitled:
Doctor Who: The Dalek Expenses Scandle!
Screw the rest of the review, I am stopping here! The Daleks have a damn parliament, its wrong on so many levels, maybe the new daleks where painted different colors for this very reason. The Purple ones are Conservatives, the Red Labour, and the yellows lib dem!
In conclusion, congratulations BBC, you have officially ruined Doctor Who. Shut it down, bring back Russel and Tennant, and actually write some decent story lines.
It was all going so well......
That's all from me today!
Aaron Newbury
Saturday, 11 August 2012
The Ironing Illusion
Ironing is one of those jobs that we usually witness our mothers (or if we have them, staff) doing every weekend at about 11 O'Clock in the morning dependent upon the weather. However, when the weather is not right or an event is on the TV that distracts people from day-to-day chores, such as the Olympics, Ironing becomes a massive problem. This is because of several factors that influence the event and chore that is ironing. As I am a font of all knowledge, I shall investigate and examine these factors, and ultimately summarize the catastrophic consequences they have on our society today.
The height if a pile
Our first factor is a most important one, as it determines the time it will take for ironing to be performed. At present, my mother has a pile of ironing weighing approximately 2,500,000 metric tonnes. The pile is about the height of a small mountain, and covers several continents. Since its establishment small civilizations have built up on this pile and I am reliably informed by my researchers that several other civilizations have in fact come before them. Due to a lack of resources the current population and their respective governments are engaged in peace talks that will ultimately fail and lead to the first of many world wars. In addition to this several of the governments have access to soap detergents of great power, so the loss of civilian life is expected to be high.
This Pile is slowly but surely being eroded away by the colossal force of my mothers iron, with several hectares on the northern reaches of the Pile having been flattened and are presently devoid of creases. Furthermore this has heightened the resources struggle, as political negotiations are underway as to which nation owns the newly reshaped land, and who will house the refugees. Such is the size of this Pile of Ironing it has numerous corporations, and several banks, which are expected to be going into recession soon, due to the ongoing resources crisis. Protests and riots have broken out in the streets of the Pile, demanding that more ironing be done, but Mum simple cannot do it without permission of the Piles respective Governments.
The Time
As we are all aware the Olympics is on television. This is another great issue to the Ironing scenario, as the population of the Pile do not agree with competitive sports. As such, Mum is constantly having to attend court to fight lawsuits about the 'Gross injustice' that the great Iron-er should watch such violent and abhorrent sporting events.
The amount of ironing that accumulates during this time
As my mother is, after all, only human, she can only Iron approximately 1 quarter of a tonne of Ironing a day. However, every day 1 eighth of a tonne of ironing accumulates. As such it would take Mum 312,500 years to finally fight her way through the Pile, in so long as she did not encounter any opposition from the Governments of the Pile. This means that she would need to invest in some form of life support machine, which would cost (where it to be contracted) approx £1,000,000,000 a year due to the relative scarcity of such technology. Thus the Newbury family would need to find Three hundred and Twelve Trillion Five hundred Billion Pounds sterling to fund this operation. No doubt this would mean that we would need to impose a tax on the population of the Pile, which would lead to further conflict.
The endless chore
Some would say that this chore is in fact endless. They would be wrong, as the Chore can be completed, in several hundred thousand years. Thus, due to the length of the chore it is likely that entire civilizations will evolve and develop simply to commit themselves to the task of ironing, and raising the finance to do so.
In summary, thanks to the Olympic games and other such televised events, the world and the Pile will respectably be bound to the Pile of Ironing for the foreseeable future. We are going to contact the Universe Parliament, in the hope that they can assist in the funding of this project, but that is unlikely to happen, as nobody has the time or the money. Instead we are contemplating eradicating the Piles population and then repopulating it ourselves, as it would save a lot of money.
Thank you for your help, if you support this notion, or can think of any solution to this crisis, please state so in the comments section or email me at pingpongpang@live.co.uk and your solution will be explored in my next blog post.
Aaron Newbury
'Pile Finance Minister'
The height if a pile
Our first factor is a most important one, as it determines the time it will take for ironing to be performed. At present, my mother has a pile of ironing weighing approximately 2,500,000 metric tonnes. The pile is about the height of a small mountain, and covers several continents. Since its establishment small civilizations have built up on this pile and I am reliably informed by my researchers that several other civilizations have in fact come before them. Due to a lack of resources the current population and their respective governments are engaged in peace talks that will ultimately fail and lead to the first of many world wars. In addition to this several of the governments have access to soap detergents of great power, so the loss of civilian life is expected to be high.
This Pile is slowly but surely being eroded away by the colossal force of my mothers iron, with several hectares on the northern reaches of the Pile having been flattened and are presently devoid of creases. Furthermore this has heightened the resources struggle, as political negotiations are underway as to which nation owns the newly reshaped land, and who will house the refugees. Such is the size of this Pile of Ironing it has numerous corporations, and several banks, which are expected to be going into recession soon, due to the ongoing resources crisis. Protests and riots have broken out in the streets of the Pile, demanding that more ironing be done, but Mum simple cannot do it without permission of the Piles respective Governments.
The Time
As we are all aware the Olympics is on television. This is another great issue to the Ironing scenario, as the population of the Pile do not agree with competitive sports. As such, Mum is constantly having to attend court to fight lawsuits about the 'Gross injustice' that the great Iron-er should watch such violent and abhorrent sporting events.
The amount of ironing that accumulates during this time
As my mother is, after all, only human, she can only Iron approximately 1 quarter of a tonne of Ironing a day. However, every day 1 eighth of a tonne of ironing accumulates. As such it would take Mum 312,500 years to finally fight her way through the Pile, in so long as she did not encounter any opposition from the Governments of the Pile. This means that she would need to invest in some form of life support machine, which would cost (where it to be contracted) approx £1,000,000,000 a year due to the relative scarcity of such technology. Thus the Newbury family would need to find Three hundred and Twelve Trillion Five hundred Billion Pounds sterling to fund this operation. No doubt this would mean that we would need to impose a tax on the population of the Pile, which would lead to further conflict.
The endless chore
Some would say that this chore is in fact endless. They would be wrong, as the Chore can be completed, in several hundred thousand years. Thus, due to the length of the chore it is likely that entire civilizations will evolve and develop simply to commit themselves to the task of ironing, and raising the finance to do so.
In summary, thanks to the Olympic games and other such televised events, the world and the Pile will respectably be bound to the Pile of Ironing for the foreseeable future. We are going to contact the Universe Parliament, in the hope that they can assist in the funding of this project, but that is unlikely to happen, as nobody has the time or the money. Instead we are contemplating eradicating the Piles population and then repopulating it ourselves, as it would save a lot of money.
Thank you for your help, if you support this notion, or can think of any solution to this crisis, please state so in the comments section or email me at pingpongpang@live.co.uk and your solution will be explored in my next blog post.
Aaron Newbury
'Pile Finance Minister'
Saturday, 4 August 2012
How we fall for the garbage big companies sell us.
Today I am going to go on a bit of a rant, a bit of a business and economical rant, so turn away now if numbers and common sense scare you.
Everyday huge amounts of total garbage we really do not actually need are sold, here are some numbers:
40 Million bottles of water,
1.7 Billion cans of Coca Cola,
2.4 Billion cans of Pepsi,
1 Billion Sandwiches
3 Billion Newspapers.
It really is worrying that every single day people walk past their perfectly nice tap and think to themselves "You know what? Today I think I shall go out and get my water in a bottle, not from that lovely tap over there."
And why is that? It's simple, the nice big companies smack a big sign saying "Mountain Pure! Glacial Spring water straight from the teats of Rishnu herself!". And we, being total morons go "Hell, why not, it only costs on average £3.40 per liter of Bottled water in the UK!"
That's right, recent figures show the average price of a liter of bottled water (that stuff that falls from the sky almost every day) is £3.40.
Lets do the maths:
Average cost of a liter of Water (tap): £0.13
Average cost of a liter of Water (bottle): £3.40
You pay extra for this water at: £3.27
So, lets assume I own all the factory run, low labor cost bottled water companies:
40,000,000 x £3.27= £130,800,000 (One hundred and thirty Million Pounds) a day.
That's what this industry makes daily, subtracting the cost of the water that you all don't get out your taps because its not 'Glacial'.
That's: 47.74200 billion British pounds A YEAR!
If I made a product tomorrow and called it 'BabyChow: Turn your toddler into a waddler' it wouldn't sell. However, I stick a cute picture of a plump child on the front and call it:
Baby Chow: Turn you toddler into a cute ball of fun! Results Guaranteed!
I would sell millions, and nobody would bat an eyelid, if I sold it in America and had Disney sponsor it in a cartoon, they would love me. Why? It has a cute picture on the front, its for your kids, it can't be dangerous?!
So, this is just a little reminder from me, to stop buying crap you don't need.
Aaron Newbury
Everyday huge amounts of total garbage we really do not actually need are sold, here are some numbers:
40 Million bottles of water,
1.7 Billion cans of Coca Cola,
2.4 Billion cans of Pepsi,
1 Billion Sandwiches
3 Billion Newspapers.
It really is worrying that every single day people walk past their perfectly nice tap and think to themselves "You know what? Today I think I shall go out and get my water in a bottle, not from that lovely tap over there."
And why is that? It's simple, the nice big companies smack a big sign saying "Mountain Pure! Glacial Spring water straight from the teats of Rishnu herself!". And we, being total morons go "Hell, why not, it only costs on average £3.40 per liter of Bottled water in the UK!"
That's right, recent figures show the average price of a liter of bottled water (that stuff that falls from the sky almost every day) is £3.40.
Lets do the maths:
Average cost of a liter of Water (tap): £0.13
Average cost of a liter of Water (bottle): £3.40
You pay extra for this water at: £3.27
So, lets assume I own all the factory run, low labor cost bottled water companies:
40,000,000 x £3.27= £130,800,000 (One hundred and thirty Million Pounds) a day.
That's what this industry makes daily, subtracting the cost of the water that you all don't get out your taps because its not 'Glacial'.
That's: 47.74200 billion British pounds A YEAR!
If I made a product tomorrow and called it 'BabyChow: Turn your toddler into a waddler' it wouldn't sell. However, I stick a cute picture of a plump child on the front and call it:
Baby Chow: Turn you toddler into a cute ball of fun! Results Guaranteed!
I would sell millions, and nobody would bat an eyelid, if I sold it in America and had Disney sponsor it in a cartoon, they would love me. Why? It has a cute picture on the front, its for your kids, it can't be dangerous?!
So, this is just a little reminder from me, to stop buying crap you don't need.
Aaron Newbury
Friday, 3 August 2012
The concept of War
Today I turned on the news, in a desperate bid to see if there was anything other than the Olympics on television. This is a due to my recent discovery that the athletes Village at the Atlanta Olympic games went through 100,000 condoms, in 6 days. For those of you interested I did the math, and it works out at 2.2 Condoms a day per male. Horrified that our Olympic athletes are not just having their endurance tested in the field, I decided to see what else was going on in the world.
So I merrily picked up my remote control and settled down in my nice chair and started to cycle through the TV channels. For what seemed like decades I flicked through Olympics showings and a few channels that seemed to show programs from before the creation of man. Eventually however I found the BBC news channel, and gazed in awe at new story's, ones that did not involve hormone empowered contraceptive covered Olympians.
The News story was of course on the crisis of Syria, or should I say the Civil war in Syria that could rapidly escalate into apocalyptic Armageddon should the Russians and Chinese get any more involved. Whilst watching this news story a thought occurred to me (an event which is become worryingly common), what really is the point of war?
At this moment, I can practically hear the hundreds of Philopshers collectivly drawing breath as they prepare long rehershed speeches to hurl at me. But, as always, I shall pay them no attention and proceed. I wonder to myself at which point did one human have an argument with another human, and then spontaneously decide to pick up a log, tell all of his friends to do the same, and kill the human's who disagreed with them.
It really is a strange notion, I imagine that the very first financially inspired war went something like this:
Mogog the Barbarian: "Umgog Fo Mumgok, Imgog Bro Kimgog!" (Why you little B*stard, that shiny lump of rock is mine, I found it first!)
Gogom the Barbarian: "Frumkok Lo Krukok! Krikok Guk Foo!" (It is not, I found it you little sh*t. I shall grab this large log and hit you with it, as will all of my friends, to prove to you I am right.)
This simplifies the very essence of war. I want it, you have it, you give it to me, or I smash/shoot/burn/generally maim and do nasty things/ to you. Even if you are or are not called Mogog, and write your job title as 'Professional Barbarian' you really have to admit, its a stupid idea.
As such, I came up with a marvelous solution: get rid of the majority of the army, keeping a few units in case of riots/alien invasion and of course keep the Police force. That way when Tim and Tom have drunk a little to much and think that the only way to decide which Spice girl is more attractive is to smash each other in the face, the Police are on hand to stop them. Its genius. No more wars! That way we can focus on more important things like economics, and the contraceptive supply to the athletes village.
You see, it is quite simple, when people have money they are happy. If we spent less time working out new and inventive ways to kill each other, and more time working out how to make a lot of money and produce a lot of new shiny technological goods we would be a planet of very happy people. To add to this since the recession started, the number of OAP's shoplifting went up 300%, yes, Mavis could no longer buy her newspaper so she stole it. So, make money, not war!
Imagine it, a world done 'my way'. It would be perfect, you could do whatever you wanted. Be it sit and play computer games on your new 3D holographic home cinema, or go climbing Everest in a hover-car, or maybe watch the latest gladiator combat of an ex US marine VS 8 Shoplifters and rioters, the world would be perfect. All physical conflict fought in a designated arena, and all verbal conflict filmed on a Political version of Jeremy Kyle, to top it all up a world of economic supremacy! If aliens ever did invade, we could pay 'em of and use 'em as mercinarys!
So, in conclusion, War is a waste of time and of money. Make Money, not War!
Aaron Newbury, your friendly resident world changer.
So I merrily picked up my remote control and settled down in my nice chair and started to cycle through the TV channels. For what seemed like decades I flicked through Olympics showings and a few channels that seemed to show programs from before the creation of man. Eventually however I found the BBC news channel, and gazed in awe at new story's, ones that did not involve hormone empowered contraceptive covered Olympians.
The News story was of course on the crisis of Syria, or should I say the Civil war in Syria that could rapidly escalate into apocalyptic Armageddon should the Russians and Chinese get any more involved. Whilst watching this news story a thought occurred to me (an event which is become worryingly common), what really is the point of war?
At this moment, I can practically hear the hundreds of Philopshers collectivly drawing breath as they prepare long rehershed speeches to hurl at me. But, as always, I shall pay them no attention and proceed. I wonder to myself at which point did one human have an argument with another human, and then spontaneously decide to pick up a log, tell all of his friends to do the same, and kill the human's who disagreed with them.
It really is a strange notion, I imagine that the very first financially inspired war went something like this:
Mogog the Barbarian: "Umgog Fo Mumgok, Imgog Bro Kimgog!" (Why you little B*stard, that shiny lump of rock is mine, I found it first!)
Gogom the Barbarian: "Frumkok Lo Krukok! Krikok Guk Foo!" (It is not, I found it you little sh*t. I shall grab this large log and hit you with it, as will all of my friends, to prove to you I am right.)
This simplifies the very essence of war. I want it, you have it, you give it to me, or I smash/shoot/burn/generally maim and do nasty things/ to you. Even if you are or are not called Mogog, and write your job title as 'Professional Barbarian' you really have to admit, its a stupid idea.
As such, I came up with a marvelous solution: get rid of the majority of the army, keeping a few units in case of riots/alien invasion and of course keep the Police force. That way when Tim and Tom have drunk a little to much and think that the only way to decide which Spice girl is more attractive is to smash each other in the face, the Police are on hand to stop them. Its genius. No more wars! That way we can focus on more important things like economics, and the contraceptive supply to the athletes village.
You see, it is quite simple, when people have money they are happy. If we spent less time working out new and inventive ways to kill each other, and more time working out how to make a lot of money and produce a lot of new shiny technological goods we would be a planet of very happy people. To add to this since the recession started, the number of OAP's shoplifting went up 300%, yes, Mavis could no longer buy her newspaper so she stole it. So, make money, not war!
Imagine it, a world done 'my way'. It would be perfect, you could do whatever you wanted. Be it sit and play computer games on your new 3D holographic home cinema, or go climbing Everest in a hover-car, or maybe watch the latest gladiator combat of an ex US marine VS 8 Shoplifters and rioters, the world would be perfect. All physical conflict fought in a designated arena, and all verbal conflict filmed on a Political version of Jeremy Kyle, to top it all up a world of economic supremacy! If aliens ever did invade, we could pay 'em of and use 'em as mercinarys!
So, in conclusion, War is a waste of time and of money. Make Money, not War!
Aaron Newbury, your friendly resident world changer.
Thursday, 2 August 2012
The bizarre sense of Humor of the Education system.
Today is, not only being the second day I have been "Blogging", but is also the day that the parents and I decided to sit down and talk about Student Accommodation, and of course the ever hated topic of Student Finance. It was a very stressful talk, my brain found itself curled up into a little triangle-as brains are already ball-shaped they cannot exactly curl up into little balls in stressful situations-and most of my bodily functions stopped working.
However, after going through a brief course of therapy, in the form of logging onto the Website 'Tickld' and laughing at the misfortune of others on facebook, my body slowly began to regain its normal biological and mental functionality. As such, my Brain deemed it necessarily to perform an analysis of the discussion it had been devastated by earlier, and, despite shutting down several times throughout the painful process of this re-calibration, it came to the following conclusion.
Every single year thousands of students in the UK, USA, EU and Asia sit their examinations, be they A-Levels, of their countries equivalent, and each year they have this enormous buildup to the 'Life-Changing Exams' that they will sit. This build up is courtesy of the British Government Department of Education, who will for the sake of making this post easier to understand and focus, be personified by a demonically evil civil servant named Matthew (not 'Matt', he does not like his name being shortened, its against protocol).
So, one day Matthew was sat in his office, when he received a file from the Cabinet Office, asking him to 'shake-up' the education system, and make it more 'fair' and 'competitive'. Matthew laughed to himself, this laughter eventually developed into an all consuming cackle, that continued for a good half hour, until he finally steadied himself, and had a glass of mineral water (not anything alcoholic, that's against procedure).
Ultimately, after about 9 weeks of hard graft serious plotting and office backstabbing, Matthew decided to make a system whereby all students wishing to apply to UK universities are to take their exams, then wait 3 months to get their results. However, so as to make things more interesting, they are also to actually apply for Universities, receiving 'offers' first of all, still un-sure as to whether or not they can make the grade (pardon the pun if you will).
At first, this diabolical plan for educational competitiveness was vastly successful, aside from the political and social reasons the plan also gave a right laugh to the politicians (as intended). However, as is the way with all evil plans, it simply was not good enough, so the plan had to be stepped up. Once again Matthew was given this job (it did not surprise him, after all, it was only procedure) and he started to devise new, humorous ways to 'improve' the British Higher Education System. He decided (after a few bottles of mineral water) to ensure that people from outside the UK found it easier to apply for Universities in the UK-in other words, people who could not speak the Native language of Britain (which, for those of you who do not know, is English, not American) found it easy to get degree courses there! It was master stroke, Matthew was knighted (as he knew he would be, it was in the procedural guidebook).
In his arrogance, and in the desire of the UK politicians to guide attention away from Scottish Independence, and the minor issue of world-wide economic collapse, however Matthew (at the behest of the PM), decided to go one step further on his humor backed quest to decimate the British Education System. He decided to triple University fee's, and then, as an added kick in the crotch allow students to, over 30 years, pay back 280% of their owed fee's!
He presented the idea to the Government, they loved it, and gave him three weeks paid leave, which he took in Gibraltar. Upon arriving at his Hotel, he turned on the BBC news channel, and saw rioters in London, rioting against a fee increase, that attacked the upper class and middle class, as they apparently earned to much to apply for grants, and thus earned to much to go to University (as private school fee's combined with high tax rates meant even we, I mean they, ran out of money). Finally seeing his mistake, Matthew promptly jumped in front of a passing bus.
So, in conclusion to this post, my brain today suffered severe damage, on a cellular level, as a result of the Governments desperate plan to destroy the lives of every young adult in the nation. Thank you Matthew (or should I say Sir Matthew OBE)
Aaron Newbury
PS: Please note Matthew is not a real person, and if he was and you had been paying attention to this post, it wouldn't matter if you went after him in a desperate bid for revenge, he is dead, he threw himself under a bus, remember?
However, after going through a brief course of therapy, in the form of logging onto the Website 'Tickld' and laughing at the misfortune of others on facebook, my body slowly began to regain its normal biological and mental functionality. As such, my Brain deemed it necessarily to perform an analysis of the discussion it had been devastated by earlier, and, despite shutting down several times throughout the painful process of this re-calibration, it came to the following conclusion.
Every single year thousands of students in the UK, USA, EU and Asia sit their examinations, be they A-Levels, of their countries equivalent, and each year they have this enormous buildup to the 'Life-Changing Exams' that they will sit. This build up is courtesy of the British Government Department of Education, who will for the sake of making this post easier to understand and focus, be personified by a demonically evil civil servant named Matthew (not 'Matt', he does not like his name being shortened, its against protocol).
So, one day Matthew was sat in his office, when he received a file from the Cabinet Office, asking him to 'shake-up' the education system, and make it more 'fair' and 'competitive'. Matthew laughed to himself, this laughter eventually developed into an all consuming cackle, that continued for a good half hour, until he finally steadied himself, and had a glass of mineral water (not anything alcoholic, that's against procedure).
Ultimately, after about 9 weeks of hard graft serious plotting and office backstabbing, Matthew decided to make a system whereby all students wishing to apply to UK universities are to take their exams, then wait 3 months to get their results. However, so as to make things more interesting, they are also to actually apply for Universities, receiving 'offers' first of all, still un-sure as to whether or not they can make the grade (pardon the pun if you will).
At first, this diabolical plan for educational competitiveness was vastly successful, aside from the political and social reasons the plan also gave a right laugh to the politicians (as intended). However, as is the way with all evil plans, it simply was not good enough, so the plan had to be stepped up. Once again Matthew was given this job (it did not surprise him, after all, it was only procedure) and he started to devise new, humorous ways to 'improve' the British Higher Education System. He decided (after a few bottles of mineral water) to ensure that people from outside the UK found it easier to apply for Universities in the UK-in other words, people who could not speak the Native language of Britain (which, for those of you who do not know, is English, not American) found it easy to get degree courses there! It was master stroke, Matthew was knighted (as he knew he would be, it was in the procedural guidebook).
In his arrogance, and in the desire of the UK politicians to guide attention away from Scottish Independence, and the minor issue of world-wide economic collapse, however Matthew (at the behest of the PM), decided to go one step further on his humor backed quest to decimate the British Education System. He decided to triple University fee's, and then, as an added kick in the crotch allow students to, over 30 years, pay back 280% of their owed fee's!
He presented the idea to the Government, they loved it, and gave him three weeks paid leave, which he took in Gibraltar. Upon arriving at his Hotel, he turned on the BBC news channel, and saw rioters in London, rioting against a fee increase, that attacked the upper class and middle class, as they apparently earned to much to apply for grants, and thus earned to much to go to University (as private school fee's combined with high tax rates meant even we, I mean they, ran out of money). Finally seeing his mistake, Matthew promptly jumped in front of a passing bus.
So, in conclusion to this post, my brain today suffered severe damage, on a cellular level, as a result of the Governments desperate plan to destroy the lives of every young adult in the nation. Thank you Matthew (or should I say Sir Matthew OBE)
Aaron Newbury
PS: Please note Matthew is not a real person, and if he was and you had been paying attention to this post, it wouldn't matter if you went after him in a desperate bid for revenge, he is dead, he threw himself under a bus, remember?
Wednesday, 1 August 2012
The concept of un-silenced machines
Firstly, I would like to apologize to any potential readers out there, for this post, as it is the second one I will have made today. I am sorry for taking away your valuable time from eating nachos, and watching the Olympics, or whatever it is you people do.
However, I feel this issue is of great importance, in fact, its so important, I think it might just change the world. Actually, I think it will, years from know I think we will see thousands of people parading through the streets, holding aloft glittering banners that read "Go Newbury" and chanting my name exultantly to the heavens above. Such is the importance of this issue, that I will be hailed in the history books of the future as a saint, a noble prize winner, a being that has done so much for humanity he deserves nothing but praise and adoration.
Alternately, this could be an issue that few people care about, and nobody ever hears of, but still, I would rather think that the first proposed response to this post is more likely. So, know the continuous and frankly dull, monotonous and general wasteful introduction to this post is over, I shall move on to actually explain the meaning of its title.
At the moment, I have a group of builders smashing down the side of my home with large industrial pieces of equipment. One of them (the tool not the builder, at least I hopes so) is repeatably slamming itself into the side of a brick wall several hundred times a minute, with what I can only assume is the force of a small nuclear bomb. This is not the issue, as my home is not made out of Plasticine and thus can resist the futile attentions of a drill, albeit a thermo-nuclear one. The problem is the fact that every time the bearded sun glass wearing phyco who calls himself our builder fires up this machine of brutal destruction, a sound similar to that of a 15 mega-tonne woodpecker having a serious disagreement with a large lump of steel resonates through our quite village.
Meanwhile, in a military base in Russia, Oleg the one eyed assassin has just fired 300 bullets at the back of a (very much dead) mans skull. The sound he made as he whirled his molten death into the back of this mans lower cerebellum was akin to a flap of a moths wings, in the heart of a black hole, covered in cotton wool for good measure.
So, here is the crux of my rant, why is it that Oleg's machine of death, otherwise called a gun, has a silencer, yet my builders drill does not. I am pretty sure people would be aware Oleg was shooting them, when they saw 299 of their friends lying on the floor clutching their faces in pain. However, I do not want to know that my bearded building is annihilating the side of my home, I am aware he is, I paid him to do it, I want to go about my day without hearing the relentless carnage happening. So, here is what I suggest, don't spend all that money on silencers for guns that end life, but on silencers on drills that make my life very painful, and will probably make me prematurely deaf.
Aaron Newbury
However, I feel this issue is of great importance, in fact, its so important, I think it might just change the world. Actually, I think it will, years from know I think we will see thousands of people parading through the streets, holding aloft glittering banners that read "Go Newbury" and chanting my name exultantly to the heavens above. Such is the importance of this issue, that I will be hailed in the history books of the future as a saint, a noble prize winner, a being that has done so much for humanity he deserves nothing but praise and adoration.
Alternately, this could be an issue that few people care about, and nobody ever hears of, but still, I would rather think that the first proposed response to this post is more likely. So, know the continuous and frankly dull, monotonous and general wasteful introduction to this post is over, I shall move on to actually explain the meaning of its title.
At the moment, I have a group of builders smashing down the side of my home with large industrial pieces of equipment. One of them (the tool not the builder, at least I hopes so) is repeatably slamming itself into the side of a brick wall several hundred times a minute, with what I can only assume is the force of a small nuclear bomb. This is not the issue, as my home is not made out of Plasticine and thus can resist the futile attentions of a drill, albeit a thermo-nuclear one. The problem is the fact that every time the bearded sun glass wearing phyco who calls himself our builder fires up this machine of brutal destruction, a sound similar to that of a 15 mega-tonne woodpecker having a serious disagreement with a large lump of steel resonates through our quite village.
Meanwhile, in a military base in Russia, Oleg the one eyed assassin has just fired 300 bullets at the back of a (very much dead) mans skull. The sound he made as he whirled his molten death into the back of this mans lower cerebellum was akin to a flap of a moths wings, in the heart of a black hole, covered in cotton wool for good measure.
So, here is the crux of my rant, why is it that Oleg's machine of death, otherwise called a gun, has a silencer, yet my builders drill does not. I am pretty sure people would be aware Oleg was shooting them, when they saw 299 of their friends lying on the floor clutching their faces in pain. However, I do not want to know that my bearded building is annihilating the side of my home, I am aware he is, I paid him to do it, I want to go about my day without hearing the relentless carnage happening. So, here is what I suggest, don't spend all that money on silencers for guns that end life, but on silencers on drills that make my life very painful, and will probably make me prematurely deaf.
Aaron Newbury
Day one: The terrifying moment when I opened a Blog
Today, the First of August, 2012, I decided to open a blog. It probably wasn't a very good idea, it takes a lot of time and effort I am told. Time, I have a lot of, effort, I find I am rather lacking. However, I opened a blog, a glorious, pre-templated blog, courtesy of those nice folks at Google.
Anyways, at the time, it seemed like a very good idea, I had spent a great deal of time thinking about it, about 10, maybe 15 minutes. This for me, is a long time, and many great and life changing decisions can occur during this short time bracket. Regardless, I decided to proceed, naturally, being an 18 year old with access to the wide world of the internet, I deemed it necessary to notify over 300 people that I intended to start a blog, on the great utility that is Facebook. However, being Facebook, few people cared, simply ignored it, or where to swamped in advertising to give it any attention.
However, about three people did, and I was so overjoyed at this brief spark of kindness from my fellow man, that in a desperate and futile urge to ingratiate myself with the wider populous I typed "What shall I call it? The baffling Brain ofaron"
Yes, that wasn't a typo, I actually did spell my own name wrong.
So, lesson one, in the harsh and unforgiving world of the blogger, if you are going to make a blog, make sure that in your initial advertising, you have the good sense to spell you own name correctly.
This is Aaron Newbury, in his first post in the world of blogging!
Anyways, at the time, it seemed like a very good idea, I had spent a great deal of time thinking about it, about 10, maybe 15 minutes. This for me, is a long time, and many great and life changing decisions can occur during this short time bracket. Regardless, I decided to proceed, naturally, being an 18 year old with access to the wide world of the internet, I deemed it necessary to notify over 300 people that I intended to start a blog, on the great utility that is Facebook. However, being Facebook, few people cared, simply ignored it, or where to swamped in advertising to give it any attention.
However, about three people did, and I was so overjoyed at this brief spark of kindness from my fellow man, that in a desperate and futile urge to ingratiate myself with the wider populous I typed "What shall I call it? The baffling Brain ofaron"
Yes, that wasn't a typo, I actually did spell my own name wrong.
So, lesson one, in the harsh and unforgiving world of the blogger, if you are going to make a blog, make sure that in your initial advertising, you have the good sense to spell you own name correctly.
This is Aaron Newbury, in his first post in the world of blogging!
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