If you know me at all, you’ll know I’m a HUGE sports guy. I can’t get enough of it. Whether it’s the Click to read more »
You know, we should really embrace Rebecca Black. She’s just so good at being annoying. So good, in fact, that even Rebecca Click to read more »
Alastair Campbell; you may THINK you know your shit, but Veglio’s here to tell you there’s a new expert political advisor in town. And he’s done a lot of technical research on Labour’s chances in moving forward, and getting the favour of the electorate. I have to say, it’s NOT looking good…
Labour CAN win the next general election. They just need a change of leadership. And of policy. And for every non-Labour candidate to die.
— Neal Veglio (@RealNealMayhem) September 10, 2014
If you’ve been coming to this site for a while, you may well remember the touching story of Leah Graham.
If you do, good news. She’s having a party. And it will have a celebrity presence. More on that later…
If you don’t, it’s all here for you to peruse at your leisure. To summarise, she was a little girl from a small town near to where I come from, who had Cystic Fibrosis, and she was dying from it. Like, really imminently. Obviously that’s a pretty shitty situation, and so they dealt with it by smothering her with love, and trying to fulfill her last wish, which was to get a tweet from her idol Rihanna. Sadly, as you’d expect from the walking bag of herpes and satanism that is Rihanna, the poor girl was largely ignored, despite a number of successful hashtag campaigns, and pretty much everyone the world over screaming, “Oi, Rihanna, you ghetto bitch. Just reply will you?”
Not one to be defeated by a skank whore’s laziness and defiance, I attempted to do what tiny bit I could, and I got together a bunch of her friends and family to record messages, and then put them to a rather spiffy mashup backing track of Rihanna hits, which I spent hours crafting on my editing software, pretending I was some kind of Calvin Harris.
Sadly, soon after all this, Leah sadly passed. Weirdly, it happened the very same afternoon that I took over a bunch of gifts to the hospital that you lot kindly donated. As someone who believes in spiritual stuff, a part of me would like to think she was hanging on as long as she possibly could to get those gifts, because among them was Rihanna’s microphone.
That microphone was kinda cool, because the devil whore child used it on her actual US “Diamonds” tour, and is in fact the very microphone that was used on the raw board feed clip that I used in the backing track, where she sings “Shine bright like a diamond” in a slightly off-key way. I figured that would be kinda cool for Leah. She obviously thought so too, because her sister Aylisha told me that when they played it for her during her coma, her heart rate bumped momentarily.
I was invited to the memorial party. It was freakin’ cool. They really nailed the Pink Princess theme. Everyone was drunk off their tits and ass, dancing on everything that wasn’t moving, and there were a shit load of purple butterflies being handed out to anyone that would take one. They were also raising money for Cystic Fibrosis research in Leah’s name. Was super touching. And that’s not to mention the shit-hot decor. Check this out.
How cool is that? I’ll bet you hope, that when you die, someone will love you that much, huh?
Anyway, needless to say, the whole thing still brings a tear to my eyes now. Leah’s the coolest friend I never had a chance to make, and I’ll always be sorry that I narrowly missed out on that. Her mum is a rock star, and has always kept me in the loop on things that are going down with Leah’s legacy, and their ongoing battle to continue the fight against Cystic Fibrosis.
They’ve organised a huge benefit in Abingdon. Its aim is simple; to raise much needed funds for the research teams, and at the same time, celebrate what would have been Leah’s 18th birthday, with the type of party they think she’d have straight lost her shit over. And from what I can gather, she lost her shit a lot, and there was rarely a moment her, her mum, and her sisters weren’t all pissing their pants laughing at something funny that only THEY would have ‘got’.
So please check out their awesomely slick looking site, become a supporter, and then contact them to let them know how you can help.
In particular, they’re hoping to have a celebrity of some sort show up and do some cool appearance stuff, so if you can help with that, even better.
If you’re shy about approaching the kind of bloke who writes articles like this, don’t worry. You can contact Leah’s mum Selina, directly. She’s on Twitter.
Thanks for reading.
Let’s do what we can to help the family grant Leah’s Wish.
I think we should all salute Ke$ha for once.
She’s demonstrated she can clearly exercise a little self-awareness.
We all have our place in life. We’re not all blessed with the most stunning of looks. Some of us are downright not meant to be seen in public. But we all have a job to do.
Occasionally, the media might make a really BAD call, and put one of these people RIGHT in the spotlight. And while that’s nobody’s fault, sometimes it’s our duty to see ourselves, and decide to carry out a global kindness, and minimise the fall out.
You know, that’s not easy to do at the best of times, even if you’re simply the tiniest, littlest bit plain-Jane. It can hurt to truthfully look at yourself on your own Instagram, or on one of your drunken snapchat pics of your eyebrow that you’ve unwisely sent to the nerdy weird hair guy from the office, and think “Damn… ain’t nobody needing to be subjected to that.”
Think then, if you will, how hard it must be if you’re cursed with the disadvantage of being born with the looks of a sweaty post-run foot.
But Ke$ha, in all her bravery, has decided not to dwell on that pain. She’s taken one for the team.
At first glance, you may disagree with me on this. After all, during her splash about in Santa Monica, she made the world endure a few shots of her in swimwear. In a couple, she even exposed us to a couple of shots of her bald men doing hand stands in a sack, which might have been almost arousing, if not for the fact that we couldn’t get the thought of their undoubted taste of cottage cheese, and toenail fungus.
But it would be really easy for us to forget the eleventh-hour save she’s made. This could so easily have been a skimpy two-piece.
Crisis averted. God bless you, Ke$ha, and your quite obviously Daktarin-flavoured lips.
I’m all over the Apple news….
Not long now until Apple's official event. Rumours suggest news of an updated iOS, watch, the new iPhone6, and an enhanced JLaw boobs hack.
— Neal Veglio (@RealNealMayhem) September 9, 2014
If you know me at all, you’ll know I’m a HUGE sports guy. I can’t get enough of it.
Whether it’s the Double Platinum Masters Heat Event thing, or the John Marlboro Player Men’s Super Torpedo Slinging Championships….even a little football… you name it, I’m there, cheering on the crowd and stuff. And amid all the stadium supporting I’ve done, I’ve never been fortunate enough to see the kind of stuff you see in this video, for real. Which suggests to me that people get together and just invent this crap for Youtube. I’ll bet the New Zealand All Blacks don’t even really exist.
Therefore, I feel better knowning that it’s total bollocks that this 25-year-old woman ran across the field NAKED at the aformentioned rugby team’s match in New Zealand on Saturday. And the fact that I missed the security guard coming down hard on the streaker, before being booed by the crowd, doesn’t make me quite so sad, because it likely isn’t real. It’s a figment of the internet’s imagination. A Youtube invention, to try and steer the few jocks that are saying yes, to say no, when they have to say yes or no during that referendum thing which will change nothing apart from to make getting hold of a deep fried Mars bar in England just as complicated as the yanks find trying to get their lips round a moist Cuban.
There, don’t you feel better already?
No? Ok, well I bet I can cheer you up.
See the video below? Watch that. You can just about make out a pair of distant blurry boobs.
I think it’s fair to say we all feel pretty crappy after a heavy night – particularly if you fall into the category of one of those drunk people eating things they shouldn’t.
Above is video of a guy in the UK who’s leaned up against a wall in front of a pizza joint. He’s so drunk, he doesn’t realise he’s actually eating the styrofoam container that his food’s come in.
You think that’s bad? Check out this gross girl who’s eating crips that have been dropped on the floor of a train.
No matter how bad you think those two are, neither compares to the time I was on holiday on a Greek island, and drunkenly went back to the hotel room of the daughter of a Pogue.
Yes, THE Pogues. Without wishing to drop names, I’ll give you this massive clue: she thankfully didn’t inherit her father’s crack-pipe mouth.
Anyway, there was something not quite right down there, but I had a bit of a munch anyway. That’s something I deeply regretted the next morning when my tongue swelled up to the size of a car tyre, and I could barely swallow.
It turned out that I wasn’t the only guy she’d spent some quality time with that evening, and she’d not had a chance to fit in a shower.
If you’ve still been visiting this site – what the hell is wrong with you? Anyway, I’m back, and I plan to be worse than ever.
I know. I know. I’ve not updated this site in MONTHS. I’ve been busy.
Look, I’m sorry, ok? For a moment there, you weren’t the most important thing in my life, and I didn’t feel a pang of guilt every time I put my other bitch first. But I’ve seen the error of my ways, and I’m ready to show you the love you deserve, again. Honestly, I missed you the whole time. The others meant nothing to me.
You can look forward to more sporadic bursts of insanity, and a new all round feel to this site, in the coming few days.
This guy introduces his infant daughter to his identical twin brother for the first time. Right from the get-go, she’s confused and just keeps looking back and forth at the two of them.
I can’t help thinking this is just a little cruel. Kinda like child abuse, but with smiles. And you can’t be angry at smiley child abuse. So we’ll have to let this one slide…
While they were looking to get their Globes, I was looking to catch a look at theirs.
Very nice: Reese Witherspoon She was so hot in that aqua dress that I have completely forgotten about her drunken arrest last year. That chin looks like it could do just the right kind of damage, if she placed it in just the right crevice.
Made Me Hate Myself While I Rubbed Myself: Jessica Chastain Classy elegant fire down below! She looked like a very naughty and promiscuous princess.
Moisture-inducing: Usher Yes, he’s responsible for Justin Bieber. But even that won’t convince your wife or girlfriend to turn on this CHOCOLATY DELICIOUS CHUNK OF FUN.
Best Pasty Flasher: Robin Wright Why did the night’s only wardrobe malfunction have to happen to a 47-year-old woman with too much self-respect to take a chance on flashing nipple? Couldn’t they have found SOMETHING to nominate Miley for?
Most Insane Shoulder Piece: Paula Patton Speaking of Miley, how could ANYBODY think Robin Thicke would be interested in her when he’s got THIS waiting for him at home? I don’t even know what that white blob on her shoulder is supposed to be, and yet I’d STILL bang the granny out of it.
Cutest Spinners: Mary Lou Retton, Hayden Panettiere If you don’t know what a “spinner” is, check out the Urban Dictionary. But ensure you have wipes to hand if you’re eating or drinking. And yes, I would STILL do it to Mary Lou, because you KNOW she’s still just as limber as ever!
Would NOT Throw Out of Bed: Zoe Saldana I’d love to go trekking into HER darkness.
WOULD Throw Out of Bed: Lily Rabe
Would Let Him Handle Me in the Bathroom Stall: Matthew McConaughey He still looks like he could gain a few pounds, but he fills out that tux nicely anyway. Unfortunately, he thanked his sexy wife during his acceptance speech. I don’t know why, but I kinda hate him for that. Quick, where’s my collection of very angry, overtly heterosexual porn?
Would Invite Her Into My Bathroom Stall: Kate Mara That’s a sweet valley of cleavage right there.
Would Maybe Allow A Bit Of Over the Bra in the Limo, But That’s It: The Derns! I’d let either one of them have me, while the other one watched. And filmed. Although I guess Laura would have to be the one filming. Bruce doesn’t look like he has the first idea how to work a smartphone.
At least, that’s the headline she was hoping we’d be going for on this post. I was going to go for, “Self-Centred, Egomaniac, Manipulative Fame Whore Super-Cunt Terrible Mother, Kris Jenner, Takes Short Break From Profiteering From Satanising The Last Drop Of Blood From Her Long Manipulated Offspring, To Post A Ridiculously Obnoxious ‘Tell Me I’m Pretty’ Photograph Of Herself And Her Million Dollar Sag Tidy Up, Next To A Swimming Pool”, but it, frankly, just made the titling look a bit clumsy.
So we went with that.
Also, my therapist says I need to make more of an effort to be positive.
And here we are.
When I was at school I was nicknamed “Charlie Chase”. By the sports teacher. Not because my name was Charlie. It still isn’t. It’s because I was forever chasing things, be it a ball, puck, or even other people, with zero success. Poor coordination. But I was better than this guy..… I didn’t ram into things like a twat.
At a recent high school hockey game in Utah, one of the players tried to ram into an opponent at full speed between plays. But the other kid jumped out of the way at the last second, so the other guy rammed headfirst into the BOARDS.
Luckily, he got back up and seemed okay.
Ok, so some kid took photos of himself mouthing the words to Queen’s “Don’t Stop Me Now” every day for three years.
Then he turned all the photos into a time-lapse stop-motion video, so it looks like he’s singing it.
All I can say, is this reminds me of a toddler going potty. You know you should really clap, and praise him, but you can’t, due to your inability to get past what he’s done, which is essentially, force you to be utterly disgusted by the fact he’s unleashed a gigantic turd, right in front of you.
We’re here! 2014’s in full swing, and it’s gonna be awesome. Here are Ten Reasons To Be Excited About 2014.
One Everly Brother down, just one more to go!
This could be the year we get hover cars.
Three words: No. More. Leno.
You’re a Colorado munchies salesman.
If we’re lucky, perhaps the terrorists will attack Kim and Kanye’s wedding.
President Obama said it’s going to be a good year. And that guy’s never wrong about anything.
The Winter Olympics will give you your first chance in four years to have extended conversations about ‘luge’.
A new season of “Game of Thrones” means fresh BOOOOOBIES!
Sofia Vergara is thankfully still completely unaware that tank tops come in sizes other than extra-small.
Gwyneth Paltrow is planning to break a personal record by attempting to go 15 seconds without doing something so pretentious, you’ll want to strangle her with a pair of $900 yoga pants.
When you’re a shit-tick nobody, and you have a really bad day, you can go on to your Facebook, and have a massive rant, and barely anyone notices, or even cares.
When you’re Lady Gaga, and you have a bad day, posting some textual smackdown on a social site just doesn’t cut it. Let’s face it, you’re the chick who can pick the phone up to reception, and say “drained pig liver, covered in gold and shaped like gigantic black dick,” and around 90 faithful servants are trained to know exactly what you want. You basically want a gold-plated, drained pig liver that’s around 11 inches long, so that you can rut yourself with it, while watching old Audrey Hepburn movies. That’s because you’re too cool to get off to “Sensual Couples” clips on Youporn. They’re just not sylish enough, and you want to ooze style out of your freshly feminised, amputated peen- stump. After all, you’re Lady Gaga, and there ain’t no one who’s gonna question that Andy Warhol inspired bullshit. And if anyone does, you’ll have a million little monsters to gang up on them, and call them out with inspiring tweets like “you wishes you were as kewl a Monster”, or whatever other imaginative insult 13-year-olds are coming out with to her haters these days.
Luckily, as Lady Gaga, you have your own website, where about a trillion annoying little farts are desperate to hear your first world gash about delayed album releases, and sadness over creative differences, and how you feel bad for letting everyone down.
If you really have nothing better to do, and reading this contrived wank will at least prevent you from shoplifting a tube of Smarties, or calling an old lady a “fuck head”, then I fully endorse you clicking this link.
Lea Michele posted revealing new bikini photos on her Instagram account.
This is what happens kids, when you spend your evenings ‘snapchat’ing your genitals to filthy old men who pretend to be 30 Seconds To Mars fans, rather than knuckling down to study so you can get into business school. If Leah had done that, she’d never have made the mistake of posting this.
You know, because if there’s one thing male “Glee” fans can’t get enough of, it’s scantily clad women.
This kind of video is nothing new, but since the weather in the west is so shitty right now, this felt appropriate to show you. Some doofus put boiling water in a Super-Soaker and shot it into the air while it was MINUS 41 DEGREES outside.
He doesn’t say an thing the whole time, but he doesn’t need to because the glazed look in his eyes tells you he was thinking something like “Huuuur huuur huuur huur…. I’m so cool huuuur”.
I have no doubt he then ate some old beer bottles and shat on a cat. Named Mr Tiddles. She’s never liked her name. She thinks it’s white trash but what can you do when this dude is your daddy?
Things in the media business just aren’t how they used to be anymore.
Upstairs in the executive suites, up and down the land, they moan about the difficulties faced in an increasingly crowded market, with B to B conversions becoming near impossible. They also hark back to the days when the telephone would ring with agencies asking US for air time.
But I don’t give a tiny rat’s dick about any of that. I want the free shit. That’s why I got into this business. To get free shit. Dire Straits promised me I’d get it. Lying fuckers.
Sure, back in the day, I’d get some VHS tapes, (yes, I’ve worked in radio that long), video games, tickets to shows and concerts, promotional shirts, baseball caps and all other kinds of free crap.
Today, I got a legit photo signed by Katy Perry and John Mayer.
I hate both of them.
I guess it’s the thought that counts. That’s what I’ll tell the children’s hospital I’ll be dropping it off to later. “Hey, I know it ain’t 1 Direction with their fluff rashes showing, but be grateful you little snots, or I’ll shit in your jelly.”
What’s the best thing you’ve gotten?
I wasn’t there, but I can just imagine what school was like for Benedict Cumberbatch.
He almost certainly would have been given an insulting nickname. That totally gay (anything remotely middle class is gay, don’t you know that) sounding Benedict shit would have been the first to go. I’d like to think the kids would have had at least a little creativity, but I can’t help having sod all faith in the abilities of year 8 West London pupils, and have to slap my well-creased tattered ATM wanked-out £50 on the fact they went for something simple like “Derelict Bummer-catch.” Or “Bend Over Licks His Mum’s Snatch.” You just know it. Kids can be so cruel. If you went to school with him, let me know if I’m even close with that, will you?
Anyway, he’s laughing on the other side of his deeply pock-marked face now, because he’s super famous, and he’s in that shitty world where you don’t even have to look all that good to have the world’s sexy sluts wanting you to use them for sexy things. Like, with their faces, and their boobs and everything. Sometimes even their ann-ooses. It’s an amazing world, that one. Full of grapes, and goose down pillows, and Philip Seymour Hoffman’s otherwise hobo dick, inches down in hot Asian slut, in the way only the thin veil of fake delusion can provide for an ugly A-List fuck.
What really gives me a lump in my prostate, is the fact that when you look like them in the real world, even a hooker won’t take your money to blow you. But these guys get chicks who are not only free, but they’ll do it without expecting anything in return. When does that ever happen to us better looking normal men? Never. I mean, they might insinuate they’re sucking on your ‘furter because they enjoy watching you moan, but the truth is, they’re storing that. It’s gonna come out later, whether it’s at the checkout, as they guilt you out for even daring to hope they’ll pay, or at that moment when they want their super boring college friend to come round and talk about boring stuff, like Kafka, and the fiscal policy of the Dutch.
And as if he needed yet another reason for girls like Tanya – the 7-hours-in-the-gym high-class escort who will happily swallow your seed in a Travelodge twin room, provided you give her a bottle of Evian, and £40 for a cab fare home – to want to bang him for free, then this is it:
The UK’s third series premiere of Sherlock Holmes on the BBC opened to an average 9.18 million viewers, which is a third of the entire country’s television watching public, tuning in to see the bloke from “Love Actually playing the bloke from “Love Actually” with marginally better clothes, and the bloke who’s apparently so fucking cool, he even made the Star Trek bosses totally back down when he decided that even though he was cast for it, he didn’t care; he just wasn’t going to play that asshole Khan, and there wasn’t even a tiny flux-phaeton-grid-pulser-wave-generating beam residue stain that you, or any other nerdy basement dweller could do about it.
All this, despite the fact that he looks like something your despicable boss would shit out, during a seriously bad hangover.
He doesn’t even have the decency to have botox, in order to at least pretend he gives a flying toss what you think about his terrifyingly gross caterpillar eyebrows.
Man, those evil little snots did a real number on him.