box-mon1How much money is wasted on employees today due to unscheduled breaks, be it stopping to use the toilet facilities, sending a text message, or just deliberately avoiding work. How great would it be if you knew precisely time worked by a employee to then calculate a fair wage? Well now you can!

A very discreet box sits on the employees head, monitoring brainwaves. Once stimulation is detected in the brain, a signal is sent to a receiver. This then alerts management that the brain of the employee must be stimulated, thus employee must not be working productively.

Stimulation in the brain can occur when the person in question is stimulated mentally i.e. on Facebook, on the toilet, reading, or engaged in conversation. Only when the brainwaves are dormant must the employee actually be working.


Grace M’Kerrow is dead, from shortbread poisoning, it’s true, I seen her recently drinking coffee in a small rural settlement near the River Clydeand, and she was dead! Ironically The River Clydeand is a place in Scotland, and Scotland, as we all know, was invented in 1898, when Walkers Bakery were trying to market shortbread. A similar year to 1798 if you change just one number, which is a year that Grace M’Kerrow was also not alive. Coincidence?

Bellybutton1I type in response to the horrific displays of sticky out bellybuttons that infect my personal space, in this instance my personal space being my viewing distance and beyond. I always imagined that Hell would be a place full of people that have their bellybuttons proudly on display, but ‘sticky-out’ bellybuttons would clearly be a step too far, evidently not though it would seem, in Runcorn. Herds of chavs have long littered the streets of England with their vile vile-ness, now however, thanks to a spot of sunshine, they all feel it necessary to get their sticky-out bellybuttons out in public. Poking out for all to see, waving the ghastly things around everywhere. They are not cute! No bellybutton can be cute, even if you did allow the build up of bellybutton fluff and stick on some big eyes and call it a pachookie or something. That’s if bellybutton fluff is actually a thing, I’ve never really had any myself. It could very well be just a story that our perants made up, presumably to stop children storing lollipops in there. But fluff aside, please stop swinging your hideous bellybutton around, or try and push it back in or something, thank you…

Nuclear BombFor as long as history is recorded, men, women, and philosophers have endeavoured to resolve the three biggest questions that face humanity. For this time only, below I have answered said three questions. I have given the answers to these questions in the hope of widening the progress of man. Please do not abuse this knowledge for power nor profit. Thank you.
• The existence of Man began on Atlantis, where monkeys were genetically manipulated to create what is now known as man, Atlantis is currently located in Antarctica.
• The meaning of life is to sustain the existence of time, by means of consciousness, for reality is an abstract image until sustained by the sensors that react to the simulation that is reality.
• Press Circle, X, Circle, Triangle, Square, Triangle for nuclear bomb.

elephantThinking of visiting Hadrian’s Wall? Well don’t, what’s left of it barely even qualifies as a step. The only great thing about Hadrian’s Wall was the ingenious idea of building a wall around Scotland. Seriously, lets face it, Scotland is very boring, so boring in fact, that the only tourist attraction is a lake they called a Loch, which they then dumped an elephant in and claimed it be a monster. Scotland is a place so useless that it has nothing to offer the world other than Haggis and children’s television presenters (for them that don’t know, haggis is basically cat vomit wrapped up in a condom). It’s only a matter of time before the English finally finish the wall, and hopefully they’ll build a wall around Wales too, because since the demand for wool has dropped, there’s really very little reason to Wales at all, in fact they’re probably worse than the Scottish, for they aren’t even intelligent enough to stick an elephant in a lake. In the end you only really need England, and even most of that is too much…

Mario Boo


toesnakeFor over fifteen years I’ve walked around with my shoelaces tucked into my trainers, why?

It is cool…. Apparently.

Presumably because some kid failed at learning to tie the damn things and everyone else just followed suit, falsely believing themselves to be cool. Well no more will I be bounded by the ignorance of what somebody else determines I should, if I’m to be accepted by a trendy society, do with my own bloody shoelaces! I don’t want them wiggling around in my shoes like some toe murdering python. I shall tie my shoelaces in a bow, not only because I actually know how to tie my shoelaces, but also so I can wear my shoes or trainers with comfort. You can all be ‘cool’ and ‘trendy’, and when you are stood outside the ASDA in the p*ssing down rain stuffing your soggy shoelaces back into your converse, I’ll be strolling on by, happy, with my dry comfy feet and decorative bows…


I’ve concluded that man-made global warming isn’t a science but a religion. I wouldn’t mind so much if this religion were saying ‘Let’s all hold hands and love the planet and each other’ but it has, instead, taken on the characteristics of medieval Christianity: the fostering of a culture of guilt and sin following mankind’s desecration of paradise; lurid pictures showing the wages of sin, i.e. flood, plague, pestilence, famine and hell fire; the offer of salvation if we hand over enough money; the indoctrination of the young; the persecution of heretics. The fact that there has been no surface warning for 15 years is evidence that the dreaded warmth has been cast down into the deepest oceans whence, like Satan, it can do its evil work unobserved. We must therefore remain steadfast in our conviction that with faith, repentance and self-denial, it may yet be defeated.


Glaring with an undeserved look of achievement plastered to their faces with wood varnish. Behold the queen bee, with her failed croydon face-lift, ironically dressed in sportswear, as she stares cynically with her little eyes that sink, almost disappearing, into the abyss of fat that is her face. Vomiting her unwanted parenting advice, which she presumably learnt from hand rearing her own nest of pigs, the very same pigs that are currently stood around either looking bemused with their finger up their own arse or running around mimicking an armed robbery. Until of cause one of her prized little pigs gets hurt, then the hunt begins, as, regardless of fault, she rallies in the support of her cause from her followers. Rumours are spread, clan loyalties invoked and sides taken. Anything, anything that’ll bring meaning and excitement to her pitiful isolated little life of no pleasure but a few benefit paid McDonalds’ cheese burgers and a disabled car parking space.


I apologise, I failed to realise that this was just a publicity stunt. Some show pony comes along with a swastika tattooed on its forehead whilst defecating on new born babies and I just get caught up in the hype.

I don’t really hate this woman; it’s this celebrity culture that’s made her like this. Like Nasty Nick and Simon Cowell, nobody is actually so arrogant and ignorant to generally believe the statements in which she is currently vomiting. The lady in question is clearly just after a quick and easy route to fame; maybe it has something to do with the name ‘Katie’ who knows. Like or hate her, she is only after acknowledgement, any publicity is good publicity as they say. Thus sadly the people that hate her are only aiding to her goal of fame and a place on Big Brother. Every time you put a penny in the slot, the mechanical horse will move. It is a shame people, often called Katie, are like this, so desperate for attention that they’ll be naughty to get it. But what can you do?

You’ll always get one, when a small girl is sitting quietly, often simple minded little girls called Poppy, singing “Poppy go plop plop”, meanwhile, behind her stands a tall thin blond thing with ponytails in her hair (always called Katie) pulls Poppy’s hair thus making her cry, and Katie shouts “Look how cleaver I am everybody”.


to the Godmobile

God created the internet, according to some, probably the same people that believe the internet is currently located in a small black box somewhere in California. I wonder if he used Virgin Broadband, and once he had made the earth and MySpace, he then set out to create ‘clouds’ to host Windows OS. Perhaps if you check God’s Facebook timeline, you’ll see that it was around this time he friend’ed Adam, who probably called himself Alice at the time, and no doubt spent most of his time on Facebook sending Eve pictures of his biceps. Yes, I remember in the Bible (wordpress 6:12) when the devil became insanely jealous of the number of followers Jesus and Adam both had on Twitter and thus created the first internet virus called Trojan-Roman, which resulted in Jesus losing access to his Bebo account. The Devil then disguised himself as a computer worm to trick Adam into using an Apple laptop, which he then used to exchanged Eve on Craigslist for an android, which went on to create and, which later combined to become YouTube. I bet God was furious, no wonder he finally destroyed the internet by creating Google…..

You’re trying too hard. If you want to appeal to a younger audience by making God ‘trendy’ then just give him a cape and a catchphrase, or a Bible sticker album or something. Or give him a Batmobile and a side kick called A-Men, that’ll be kinda cool…

doctorpoolDue to the entering of the Doctor’s traversal of time and space and of cause some wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey stuff, the next Doctor Who is to be Jenna-Louise Coleman. Either that or Deadpool…


I do believe that due to David Tennant still being nigh impossible to replace, it’s time for a female doctor. It’s the only way to eliminate any comparison, just please no ginger Scottish girl, the show is meant to have some mild element of sexiness in it




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After years of research into cat’s behaviour, as suspected they appear to follow a strict algorithm with multiple outcomes. Unlike my recent study into dogs which resulted in the same outcome for all possible scenarios, that being to chew it, wee on it, and then attempt to mate with it. The cat has a much more logical differentiation process, as follows



#GF2045Global Future 2045 International Congress

The final stage of man’s evolution, in an effort to become immortal, Dmitry Itskov’s dream is to upload the human brain to the digital world of binary numbers, transferring the mind and consciousness of man within a mass produced machine. Any of this sound familiar? It should do, it was the plot of Russell T Davies’ Rise of the Cybermen…

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The future of ubiquitous computing, Wi-Fi dog! Get Wi-Fi as you commute and walk the dog simultaneously! I’ve not built a prototype yet but I am currently stuffing a BT Home Hub up the cat’s arse, I’ll let you know how I get on with the eDog Project.


Avengers Membership Card

I’ve been called upon to join the members of The Avengers, me now having an Avengers membership card, but it is a secret so I’m only telling people on Twitter, Facebook, MySpace, YouTube, my email contacts, anybody that reads the toilet door at the Warrington bus station, some random guy at Chester Zoo, and my blog readers, so shhhh.


I never know when it’s socially acceptable to use the restrooms when I’m buying a coffee. I can’t go prior to purchase due to not technically being a paying customer despite my full intention to become said status. I can’t go during my ‘paying customer’ing’ as leaving my table and drink is commonly associated with my departure. And after finishing my drink would be an insult to people wishing to also use the facilities as they are paying customers and I no longer am. I don’t understand, and I lack the confidence in my own ability to translate society, so something as simple as conversing with another person is just too overwhelming and complicated. How are you? How am I? How am I isn’t even a complete sentence, what information on I are you wanting to know? How is my wellbeing? Implying that you define me by my wellbeing, and what time scale are we talking about here?

I don’t understand people, I don’t really want to either, I don’t mean to be rude, but if you’re existence has no real value to my existence then for what reason would I socialise? I think there are too many people in this world already, probably only really need about six. I love what God did with the place, the trees, birds, comic cons and so on, but dumping people everywhere is just vandalism.

I guess I should just avoid coffee shops, and people, and maybe just outside in general, and tomatoes, should always avoid tomatoes, tomatoes are evil, tomatoes are always evil, if one asks you for the time or directions, run away, run far far away, and don’t look back.


“I have a blog” says Steven, “Really” responds Susan whilst in a confused state as the part of her brain that normally deals with ‘judging people’ is frantically trying to conclude on what is one of the biggest questions of our time and has puzzled philosophers for centuries – ‘what kind of person has a blog?’

Of course, naturally the next response to ‘I have a blog’ is to question “what is your blog about?”

Now this is perhaps the most important question that her ‘judging chip’ will enquire. Obviously you could salvage your ‘cool guy’ image by answering “my blog is about the decline in rock music by use of pornographic images of super cars”. Alas my blog is not about the decline in rock music by use of pornographic images of super cars, but instead of putting Susan’s ‘judging chip’ to rest, I infuriate it by responding with “hard to explain” before finally confessing after a series of questions that it is less hard to explain but more ‘nothing to explain’ as my blog isn’t about anything.

Now, when you say to someone that your blog is not about something, you’d of been more popular in just saying your blog was about kitten pornography, instead, now you’re judged as a boring attention seeker. The kind of boring attention seeker that likes things on Facebook but never comments, the guy that still has a MySpace page full of dancing bananas and a profile picture of a close up selfie modified to look like an Avatar character.

That’s because a blog is supposed to be about something. A blog is normally following something like an interest, for example cooking, fashion, or cats. There are even blogs that describe themselves, enthusiastically, as documenting the writer’s life observations… Alas, this is basically the work of a hermit, who finds other peoples jokes and memes that he feels would appeal to his brain-dead audience, and vomits them on his ‘blog’. You may or may not have noticed that I used the determiners he and his, this is because a female blog is slightly different, the blog will still have stolen memes but instead of jokes it’ll have quotes.

What is Random Boo about?

Well, it’s kind of random really, it appears to be a blog, but it is updated sporadically and has no reoccurring genre or style.  But then, what am I about? I’m not ‘about’ anything. I am me, I like lots of different things, I couldn’t simplify myself to one category. Therefore my blog is the same, my blog is my space on the internet, if I want to vent about Ben Affleck being Batman then I will.


As random as a pink elephant eating a banana peel in a pool of spatulas! It’s not a crime fighting elephant, nor is it very good at Call of Duty. But the elephant is random, so random in fact; it’s not an elephant at all. But a huge spaceship with long legs that eats dried apricots and Lego bricks. It has developed a means of selling Wi-Fi on the black-market to Garden Gnomes who plan to take over Facebook! Seriously it is all rather disconcerting. Even now! There’s a Gnome in my garden, urinating!