You are the WINNAR!!!111one

Sound familiar? If this is you, then you have no life and you know it.

What I love about the Internet, is that it gives everybody the complete freedom to express themselves however they see fit within the confines of the written word to absolutely everyone on the planet.

Ideas and conflicts can be expressed with complete disregard for any social etiquette like politeness, tact and diplomacy, because, hey, who wants to monitor their own thoughts and behaviour when you can act like an animal for free from behind the blanket of anonymity and the safety of a bedroom?

Basically, the Internet has provided everyone with the potential to illustrate just how much of a bellend they are. Fundamentalist zealots, hate groups and narcissistic misanthropes alike can communicate with us and inflict their emotional retardation with us all at a click of a button.

Don't like something on YouTube? Leave a comment expressing your critique, involve yourself with the other comments and start fights with those whose opinions dare to contradict your own sophisticated knowledge of what is good and bad. It's important that you do this, because the world must know of your opinion and dislike. It is reported that the Chilean miners await your opinion to their plight, starving children in famine-stricken countries want to know what you have to say, the entire globe is interested in the vitriol boiling away in the vacant space your soul would sit in if you were not seeded by Satan and manufactured in the womb of despondent nightmares.

Want to start a campaign against something because you are an insane bigot with no regard for human life other than consuming the E numbered waste food and poison and watching exploitative daytime chat shows that feature the epitome of human failure? Start your own blog/website/Facebook group and bring like-minded losers like yourself together for the mutual exchange of hate and illiteracy, where you can blame everything on someone else and feel good about yourself for joining the symposium of sycophantic psychos who will most probably be statutorily culled when overpopulation reaches a critical mass and only the intelligent and polite are permitted to survive for the good of human civilisation.

Disclaimer: No correspondence will be entered into, so don't expect a reply to your illiterate rebuttal.

As for the rest of us, the Internet is a bridge of communication for us to embrace the beauty of our diversity, to share in it's wealth and contribute to a greater understanding of our relationships as people and forge a new dimension for peace and understanding. Oh, and to share pictures like these because they are so cute - 

IT department's monitoring measures exposed.

Here is a photo of me when I used to work for a major video games publisher. All staff were under constant surveillance, we often felt that all of our activity was being monitored at all times. Some people thought I was paranoid, and of course the HR department denied all rumours of snooping on employees, but then I found this Tracker on my PC.

Thank you Britain

After my mental Edinburgh and Roadshow appearance, I am humbled by the enormously positive feedback and love I have received from the wider British public. I have dreamt of making comedy that could build bridges, comedy that everyone in our increasingly polarised country can embrace, and although not everyone will be pleased, the new legion of fans from every community has warmed my heart and replenished my hopes to really do something different with the magic that is comedy.

We all laugh in the same language, comedy is the vehicle with which we can explore our commonalities and expose the divisive fear, greed, and affiliation tactics that are employed to polarise us for sinister gains. I know this sounds like hippy-talk of a modern day Gandhi, but it's my vision and my way my of life, so whatever good it reaps is not my own to keep, but simply a contribution towards the hope that comedy can be the opportunity for something positive.

All of this is a far cry from the school failure I was. Always told off for talking too much or not paying attention, I never did my homework because I was too busy playing Street Fighter II on my Super Nintendo.

If you're not familiar with the Super Nintendo, well, you missed out on the golden era of video games. Before games were ridiculous in their scope and detail, games were simply fun and had actual game play, where skill and intuition were what drove gamers to shell out up to £60 or even more for royalty-inducing cartridges that contained a video game that would now fit on a cheap USB stick several times over.

Before the games industry had any links to the education institutes, I had already decided that I wanted to become a games designer. Careers advisers just looked at me blankly when I told them this and would recommend that I get into "Graphic Design", as this is what their manual told them to do with difficult creative visionaries like me. Armed with bum fluff and an NRA (National Record of Achievement) folder I entered the real world of being 16 and over expecting the swimming certificates I had to make an impression in the interviews I would be in as I tried to find my place in the adult world. That NRA folder was an utter waste of time, we spent ages on it in class, took it to an interview, only for the employer to lean on it with their elbow whilst asking you questions in regards to your aspirations in the stock movement capacity of a department store for minimum wage. Once regaling them with my dreams of something other than cheap manual labour, it was often easy to get a job to fund my higher education as long as I could speak English and put things into boxes.

I still have my NRA folder today, I will keep it was a reminder and lesson for my unborn children that despite how polished your certificates and personal statements are, if you're a unmotivated cack-handed bellend with no grasp of language, then you're really digging your own grave.

Winston Churchill, dyslexic yet Prime Minister of Britain. Richard Branson, dyslexic yet billionaire industrialist. Yoda, dyslexic yet Jedi Master.

"Oh, so you smarty art now? Well, lemme aks you this, lemme aks you this... can you kick... my ass?"

*Yes, this is parody of an existing Chris Rock joke.

Michael McIntyre's Comedy Roadshow

Okay, here we go, after years of gigging like a maniac, driving to gigs the length and breadth of the country whilst listening to comedy CDs and Magic FM (I'm soft at heart), my prime time TV debut happens tonight on Michael McIntyre's Comedy Roadshow on BBC1 @ 9.25pm. This is a clip of a true story of my experiences in being the only "English" kid in an American school that I attended when I was 12 years old.

I'm getting an influx of positivity coming from friends and fans alike, although my friends see it fit to take photos of their Sky Plus and send it to me, which is quite bizarre.

Ya get me?

I've wanted to be a stand-up comedian since I was a teenager, I've known that I've always wanted to perform since I can remember, I am now doing that, and these people pay me monies to do it on a stage (and at least once, in the gangway of an Indian restaurant).

The upshot of being a comic is that I am sometimes offered a casting for a TV or radio project, which sounds exciting as it is one of the areas a comic can diversify into. Obviously, I have often been offered many dodgy typecast roles based on my appearance and reputation, which I repeatedly turn down because I chose not to be a porn actor for a reason. However, often enough when a contemporary and youthful take is required for a role of the British brown variety, this much is communicated to me by the deft diplomacy of a casting team who joyously respond to any urban embellishments I can add to a reading, ya get me? If the last paragraph has left you bewildered, then it's quite obvious that you will be unable to comprehend the scope of my mockery and thus the inherent insult of this insinuation.

I failed all of my GCSEs, and after I got my results I went and sat in a tree with my friends because that's where I was expecting to live when my family found out. During this time I realised that talking like an "eediat" was the guaranteed path to nowhere or a career as a mobile phones salesperson. It happens that it was in fact hip hop that encouraged me to improve and extend my vocabulary. Listening to the likes of Eric B & Rakim encouraged me to start recreational reading of the dictionary. Suddenly, the creative freedom a better vocabulary afforded me a greater sense of communicational prowess, although I was totally alienated from my peers on the GNVQ Art & Design course I had managed to get onto in college. Whilst some of them were painting their shoes, I had filled out a job application form and got my very first job as a Stock Movement Advisor at Debenhams on a paltry pre-minimum wage of £3.26 per hour. I started that job on the same day as one of my best friends from high school, his name was Dwayne and he often broke the China in the stockroom and rampantly farted in the staff lifts.

Welcome to my official comedy blog!

I'm always this excited,
I never switch off!

Hello you lovely mofos!

Welcome to my official comedy blog, a place where I can exercise my creative writing and get a bit shouty about things that I feel are important, funny and even 'proper mental', and all without the restrictions of the limited haiku-esque character restrictions of Twitter. Expect to see all kinds of insane nonsense, random photos of kittens in awe-inducing cuteness, some nerdy geek stuff to express my Japanophile-ness, topical stories to do with the crazy people who are in charge of running the planet, and perhaps some pics of some sexy chicks, because I like sexy chicks... and Nutella.

I've already stayed up way too late in order to start this blog, and instead of going to get something to feed my malnutritioned ass, I am up on the internet when I could be playing HALO Reach with my friends or even cooking myself some food. Having recently learnt to cook whilst in Edinburgh, thanks to my friend Rachel Anderson and her consummate culinary craftsmanship, I can whip up a mean vegetable pasta. Once I know how to make my own Nando's, I'll be set for life.

Right, it's super late, time for some food and then sleeps, tomorrow is another day full of meetings, writing and then performing, before slaying some Metroids or Covenant bad guys.

Nighty night, don't let the bed bugs crawl into your mouth and eat your innards whilst you sleep.

x