Sunday, 30 September 2007

Just a quick one

Fresher's week is over. Yesterday I slept for twenty four hours. I shit you not. I have Fresher's Flu, which is horrible. I have still failed at my on going mission to lose my virginity (I lost it once before but it's grown back).

My feelings about Royal Holloway oscillate wildly between an almost apoplectic love of the place and a dreary, cynical hatred. Replace the words "Royal Holloway" in the previous sentence with any other noun or verb to reveal my feelngs about said thing. Go on, try it.

Friday, 28 September 2007

I always thought safe sex consisted of wearing a condom and a crash helmet

So, a very good friend of mine sent me this. I'd like to start by saying I am very tolerant of other people's religious views and their right to practice those religion freely. I expect in return that people will respect my view that such beliefs are sometimes hilarious, and my right to publish blog entries mocking them. The same law that guarantees my right to rip the piss also gives us all the right to say "Allah Akhbar", "Praise Jesus", or "Jonathan May-Bowles is a jumped up little twat". If you are offended by what you read, I invite you to exercise your free speech by invoking the latter option, repeatedly.

I'd also like to point out that A.) I don't consider this text to reflect the views, practices or beliefs of all - or even the majority of - Muslims and B.) I'm not singling out Islam. I find all religions funny, including my own. I could write jokes about Quakers all day, but you wouldn't understand them. Suffice to say we can be as big a bunch of idiots as anyone.

So, If you may be offended, please don't read on. You'll only upset yourself.

Let us begin:

"In the ideal Islamic situation, the husband and wife will most probably be total strangers to each other, having no kind of personal contact with each other previously... [so] In order to “break the ice” the husband should gently place his right hand on his bride’s forehead and recite: “O Allah! I ask you of her goodness, the good within her and the goodness upon which she was created. I seek Your protection from her evil, the evil within her and the evil upon which she was created”".

Smooth. I'm trying this at the Union tonight.

"There can be no greater turn-off to a returning husband than to find his wife in an unkempt, untidy condition."

Take note scruffy girls.

"A man should inform his wife of his intentions to have sexual relations from the morning in order that both be prepared fully at the appropriate time."

Darling, I'm going to fuck you later. Tidy yourself up a bit because right now you look like shit.

“When women emerge outdoors, they appear in the form of shaitaan, thus if any of you accidentally gaze at her and take fancy to her, he should consort with his wife, for she has the same that the other woman has.”

Allright love? I saw some proper fitties today, pop your knickers off so I can get it out me' system.

"For the protection from shaitaan and other harms, it is important to recite the Masnoon Duas at the time of intercourse. In this way the couple and their progeny will be protected from much harm.The respective duas for this occasion are as follows:-


“In the name of Allah, O Allah! Save us from Shaitaan and prevent shaitaan from that which you grant us”."

Pillow talk always gets me in the mood.


“O Allah! Do not grant shaitaan any share of that which you have granted me!”."

Er... wouldn't "Oh yes!" be a bit less creepy?

"Note:- 1. At the time of ejaculation, the dua should be recited in the mind only, not verbally."

Oh, right. Still, you're not exactly 'in the moment', are you?

"It is reported that if a person does not recite these duas, Shaitaan participates with him in the act of coitus and derives pleasure from his wife."

Don't be so bloody mean. The devil needs lovin' too. Also, reported where? The Daily Mail?.

"By night is meant the Islamic night, which precedes the day. "

Yeah, yeah, allright. Our night comes before the day too, you know Even after it, sometimes.

"Once Hazrat Umar (Radiyallahu-Anhum) had intercourse with his wife through rear entry (not anal entry). Later he was overtaken by the thought that perhaps he had committed an undesirable act. Immediately he rushed off to Rasulullah (Sallallahu-Aalyhi-Wasallam) calling out: “I have destroyed, I have been destroyed….!"

Calm down, dear. It's a commercial.

"There was a false notion; a baseless superstition that the Jews of Madina entertained as far as rear entry was concerned. According to them, the child born out of such union would be squint eyed. Some Muslims were misled by this myth of the Jews. When the above-mentioned were verse of the Quran was revealed, all such false conceptions were shattered and demolished for once and all."

Those clever, naughty little jews, plotting away to stop you from boning your wives from behind. Of course, as devilishly cunning as this plan was, it did rely somewhat on your lot being utter fuckwits.

“Await the completion (climax) of the wife before disengaging, otherwise she will become your enemy.”


"A very shameless trend has emerged nowadays where members of both the sex narrate the details of their sexual encounters to friends and associates."

This line is the only thing on God's good earth that justifies the existence of the program "Sex and the City". Also, do you perhaps mean 'shameful' instead of 'shameless'? Or do you thinking gossing about your boyfriend's cock ring is good form?

"It is the experience of the elders that a person who re-engages in sexual intercourse without doing any of the above, the resultant off-spring will be mentally-retarded or will be niggardly in nature."

Welcome to the twenty first century. Please help yourself to some science.

"Total nudity during coition has been prohibited in Islam."

Reason number 248 why I will not be converting to Islam.

"It is undesirable for both the partners to look at each others genitals."

Reason 249

"Many of the Ulema are of the opinion that looking at the wife’s gentials causes the eye- sight to weaken."

But why would I even want my eyesight if I can't look at pussy?

"It is the experience of wise men that the result of sexual intercourse on a full-stomach is a dull, backward child."

Seriously, we keep the science over there, next to the Enlightenment and underneath Feminism. Grab some of those as well, while you're up.

"Today, medical research has discovered that the greatest risk factor of contracting AIDS-the killer disease of the century-is anal sex; with or without protection! May we be sacrificed upon Allah and his Rasul for protecting our lives and health by strictly prohibiting us from this inhuman act."

Yeah, nice one God. Cheers for making all the fun stuff lethal.

"Premature ejaculation is a sexual problem that could adversely affect the marriage. In premature ejaculation, semen is discharged immediately or very shortly after the commencement of sexual activity-within 30 to 60 seconds- whereas the normal period ought to be 2 to 3 minutes. "

2-3 Minutes? Dear God man, I'm not a machine!

"On an overall basis, women have a considerably a lower sexual urge than men."

Don't count on it.

"To indulge in sex when the eye is sore results in the swelling and whitening of the eye.

Even when the woman’s eye is sore, sex should be avoided."

Or perhaps just stop fucking her in the eye?

Not all of this little book was quite so mental. I've obviously picked the weird/funny bits to put in this blog. If you've been offended by this, well, I did warn you. But sorry all the same. If this is how you chose to live your life, go for it. But, seriously, your child won't be a retard if you're cock is a bit grubby. It just won't.

Also, if there are any Muslims of the crazy-angry-lunatic persuasion reading this, remember: If Allah is cross with me, he'll sort it out himself. If you do it, you are basically calling Allah a wuss. You're not calling Allah a wuss, are you?

Next time: Jon calls the BNP a bunch of gaylords, and tells a group of hardline Zionists that he fucked their mums.

Tuesday, 25 September 2007

Did you know these so called 'volunteers' don't even get paid?

For some, the above Homer Simpson quote sums up the volunteer experience. But not for me. At the risk of becoming incredibly wanky over the next few paragraphs, I am going to tell you what I have done so far this week and why it has been brilliant.

A blow by blow account of what I've been doing - shifting bags, barbequeing, helping people find things and most of all 'etcetera' - would be shitbollock boring. So instead I will tell you about the good bits.

For a start I have met and talked to at least a hundred new people. And it's only Tuesday. Having a badge that says 'Sup?' seems to be a great way of breaking the ice, I advise you all to get one. But along with the scores of amiable acquaintances who will now accost me in Medicine, Stumble and the Union with the word 'Sup?', I have also met a number of people with whom the rapport goes deeper, and who I am sure will become firm and perhaps life long friends.

I'm only half way through the week, but already I feel more at home at Holloway than I ever have before. I've started keeping a secret bag of clothes and toiletries on campus so I hardly even have to leave. No I'm not telling you where it is, but suffice to say I once actually won at hide and seek while I was hiding. Yes, they had to give up. I hid that well.

I am thinking of setting up a tent in the quad to save on rent. Perhaps I could become a quasi-gypsy, setting up my tent all around Egham and, when I finnally got evicted after thirty days, moving my stuff just down the road.

I was never a fresher myself - well, not properly. During my first year I still lived at the flat. Plus, I was 20, with a kid, so the "wow, we are finally free!" vibe of my first year was kind of lost on me. And perhaps it says something that, even though this year I could have celebrated my new found independence with a fresher's week full of hedonism and frivolity, I have actively sought out responsibility like some kind of fucking masochist. Last night I was at Medicine, half way through getting pissed, when I heard there was a bit of a ruckus at the union. There was no expectation or obligation for me to go and help - I'd clocked off at six after a nine hour day - but I wanted to be there, I wanted to help, and even when I found the situation to be under control, I stayed and helped out anyway. I stayed for over an hour, and by the time I returned my pitcher had gone missing. But even this, and the fact I couldn't actually get into the Union, did not dampen my spirits (well, they did, but only for ten minutes or so).

All this is beginning to sound suspiciously like bragging. And I suppose it is, a bit. But I prefer to think of it as advertising. Helping people out this week has actually gotten me high. This high in't quite up there with the first time you drop a pill, but I'd sure as hell no trade it for ten grams of coke. Or, if I did, I'd sell those ten grams and give the money to charity. Fuck yeah!

Friday, 21 September 2007

And he knew he'd never play the tambourine again

So, I'm working on the beans vs loo roll campaign and I am listening to scroobius pip. I've got it on at a normal volume because I'm playing Thou Shalt Always Kill, and everyone needs to drink in those lyrics. In any case, there are only two other people in the lab, one is wearing headphones and the other is a mate of mine.

This girl walks in, sits down and does some work. So far, so what. But when she gets up to leave she comes over to me and says:

"You are not on your own here, and some people might not like your music so you should use the headphones."

For a start, what headphones? The ones she is going to buy me? I haven't got any headphones. So I get a bit shirty and say:

"Listen, if you'd come over to me when you walked into the room and asked me to turn my music off because you didn't like it, I'd have respected you and done as you asked. But instead you have waited until you are already leaving and dressed up your pet peeve in a load of pseudo moral bullshit to make it seem as though you speak on behalf of the room. I didn't like the silence, so I decided to put some music on. If you don't like the music, you can ask me to turn it off. But acting like I have done something actually wrong just discredits and devalues the very idea of having a common ethical code, a trend which in itself is contributing to the decay and downfall of modern liberal society!"

Or, rather, that's what I should have said. What I in fact said was:

"Yeah. Thanks. Bye."

Which was just as passive aggressive without any of the accompanying social commentary.

The long and the short: Don't mess with politics students. Unless they are pussies like me.

Thursday, 20 September 2007

Trapped in the computer centre...

I want to eat my own hands.

The evil internet has robbed me of the will to do anything, despie the long list of jobs, many of them quite urgent, that lies in front of me. I can't even be bothered to go home, as I'd only have to tidy my room. Fuck knows what I'll do about dinner. I am trapped in the computer centre, a quicksand of the soul.

Why do I keep coming to this place? Why can't I be bothered to write the sketches i've been busting a bollock about for weeks? What is my major malfunction? All these questions, and more, are things I can't be fucked to address.

With a deep sigh, Jon smashed his head repeatedly against the monitor.

Wednesday, 19 September 2007

Keep on running...

I just had rather a scary phone conversation with Capital One.

Capital One, for the uninitiated, is a big evil credit card company with shit customer service. Their phone line forces you to enter your account number and date of birth before it even gives you a list of options and, if you do get to talk to a person, they are usually in a country far, far away.

I phoned up today to ask about my balance. After pissing about with the options for a few minutes I was put through to a very helpful Indian lady. I asked for some statements and for the current balance, which she told me. She then asked if there was any particular reason for my call. I said I'd been thinking of closing my account (i.e. paying them back).

Within 20 seconds I was on the phone to 'Linda', a suspiciously helpful and very well trained English lady. She was staggeringly eager for me to close my account... so much so that they essentially offered me a discounted rate if I can do so in the next week.

C1 are a load of evil penny pinching bastards who have never, ever before in my life offered me a discount for anything. Most credit card companies don't want you to pay them back too quickly - they are happy for your debt to sit there, having the minimum payment lopped off it once a month, indefinitely, so you end up paying back many times what you initially borrowed.

The fact C1 are so desperate to get my measily couple of grand back quickly strongly suggests that they are royally fucked. Capital one is a small bank, which mainly makes it's money from the sub prime market ( meaning people, like me ,who are a bit shit with money). The fact they are in trouble is hardly a shocker. But the fact they are so crudely grabbing at cash on such a short term basis is, well, worrying. It might not be time for another run on the banks, but I'd pop your trainers on just in case.

Don't get me started...

I'm pissed off. Gloriously, incandescently pissed off. I don't know why. I woke up this morning angry with the world and everything in it. Every stimulus I encountered between my bed and the computer centre caused caustic, sarcastic barbs of vitriol to squirt from some forgotten part of my psyche. I am spectacularly, mercillessly, pointlessly pissed off. The only thing taking the edge of my rage is how much I'm loving it.

It's great. It feels like I've tapped some long lost mine of motivation buried deep amidst the grey matter and now hot, red gold is spilling out. Most people, when they feel like this, have to go and ruin it all by pretending to be pissed off about something - traffic jams, rain, the existence of Richard Littlejohn (who spends his whole life finding reasons to feel annoyed). But the truth is that sometimes we are just generally fucked off, and all of the post hoc justifications in the world don't change it. We should learn to embrace this feeling, focus it, choose a direction in which to unleash our unyielding anger and so improve our broken world.

Here's a short list of things I could direct my bristling malice at:

George Bush.

The fact that, upon his departure, Tony Blair was not immediately marched out into the car park, forced to kneel down and shot in the back of the head.

The fact Tony Blair is now Middle East Peace envoy, which is a bit like getting Ian Huntley to present Live and Kicking.

The fact there is no longer any such program as Live and Kicking.

The fact that, when there was such a program as Live and Kicking, I never got my fat, lazy arse out of bed on a saturday morning to watch it. A few more hours of sleep, a lifetime of regrets.

David Cameron's soft, doughish, public school face. I bet you could punch it all day and not even scuff your fingers. God knows I'd like to find out.

The fact all that ever comes out of the fat fucking hole in Cameron's stupid fucking face is a whiny scraping sound as he begs people to forget what a Conservative is and hand him the power he hopes will fill up the yawning chasm where his soul should be. That, and the occasional choking noise as he swallows the vomit produced by another piece of gesture politics not even he can bring himself to believe in.

The fact cigarettes kill you.

The fact I had to google the word 'cigarettes' because I have forgotten how to spell since I started dropping.

The Daily Mail, who this morning announced that after 'four months under suspicion', a case was 'finally' going to be brought against the McCanns. Let me get this straight - You spent the first three and a half of months unable to stop fawning over them, never missing an opportunity to print a front page pic of Maddie's fit Mum (doesn't grief look good on her?) and now, not only have you switched sides faster than you'd change a broken condom, and practically convicted them in print before they've even been charged, your going to pretend you knew they were guilty all along? Have you been drinking lead paint or something? Oh dear God
the daily mail really are a bunch of fucking twats.

The Sun (newspaper)

The Sun (hydrogen helium fusion reaction at the centre of our solar system that is 109 times bigger than the earth but is still shit at keeping us warm. Fucking slacker.)

All of these other cunts in the computer centre. I mean, just look at them! Sitting, working, typing, breathing. Who the fuck do they think they are? Bastards.

Jesus fuck, I could go on and on indefinitely, but I think I may be in serious danger of giving myself an aneurism. Well, that was fun. I must get fucked off by things more often.

Returning to normal in 3...2...1...

Oh, and 'Hi!', by the way. Welcome to my new blog.