27 October 2005

Commercial Breakage

Don't you just hate the way grime and grease get everywhere?
Wouldn't you prefer it if the grime and grease weren't there?
In that case, try new Grime 'N' Grease B'Ware!

Just spray it on and it'll scare the dirt away by being absolutely horrible. Duh duh duuuuh! Another insensitive product from Sillit Explosion.


You know when you go to an anvil rental shop like, say, Blockruster? You rent an anvil or two for a few nights but then you have to give them back. Isn't taking things back to the shop such a waste of time? Introducing new self-destructing anvils.

When you rent a self-destructing anvil it comes in an air-tight plastic bag. You take it out of the bag to use it and after a few days of exposure to air it rusts, becoming useless. It's a rental anvil you don't have to take back! What a time-saver!

Of course, we have taken the environmental impact into account. We can't have millions of tonnes of rusty anvils dumped into landfill every month so we've arranged a recycling programme. You'll find recycling collection points in almost every anvil rental shop, so when your rental anvil has destructed, you simply take it back to the shop!

Simple. Clever. New. Useful. Self-destructing anvils. Bing!

06 October 2005

The Sequel Of Anvil Boy

As a result of unpopular demand, I have decided to continue this hideous story.

Twice upon a time, in a delicious chocolaty galaxy right under our collective schnoz, a little boy was still waiting for Edward Excel's promise to finish coming true; the Royal Pigeon had yet to bring the blue grade the boy so deserved. Fortunately, Edward had given Yuck Ass the spider a magical image of the blue grade to display on his web. The boy could not see the image himself, for he did not know the secret finger ritual for making that part of Yuck's web appear, but the University of Anvilania could and, when they saw the C grade on the web, graciously admitted the boy onto their BSc Study of Anvils course.

As an aside, the boy's BSc course should really have been called a BiScuit course, as it had a layer of hard work at the start and at the end, with a sweet money-flavoured work placement somewhere in the middle. (Well, actually, offset towards the end, but then the squishy bits are never quite in the middles of biscuits anyway.)

So at last, the boy had moved in to his room at the University. In fact, I'm with him in his room at the moment. Hello, little boy.

Please don't call me that. Call me Mark.

OK then, Mark. So, first question: Why this course at this university?

There are other universities?

Ah. I see... So, er... Why this course then?

I'm surprised you asked. You're an anvil nut too, remember?

Oh yeah... Well then, how are you finding it so far?

I suppose it's been pretty good so far, but I wish it had been better. I'd like to have done more hands-on work with anvils by now. I reckon there's been a bit too much introductory stuff. Having said that, though, the lecture on How To Plagiarise Without Getting Penalised did come in very handy. You should steal my lecture notes when I'm not looking. Read them and pretend they're your own. That way, the next time you decide to pretend to plagiarise a penguin photograph, you can do it for real instead.

That's a very good idea. What's that over there?


Oh, it must have been a mirage... So... Had any insights into the meaning of life, universities and everything?

That's a very vague question.

Yeah, well, I can't think up good ones fast enough, OK?

Shouldn't you have written down some interesting questions already?

Look, I've never done a live interview before. Just humour me, OK?

Uh, well, I tend to find that life is like cheese. The hard cheese is too hard but the soft cheese is over-rated. That's why I like anvils; they're great, they're hard... And they're anvils. And you know, sometimes, when I'm thinking of doing something, I say instructions to myself in my head as if I were telling someone else what to do. This makes me feel as if there are two of me in my brain. As a result, I have, once or twice, absent-mindedly referred to myself as "we" or "us." I know I don't have multiple personalities, so when that happens I like to imagine that the "other me" is really an anvil. I call him Todd. Sometimes I really believe he's there!

You believe in Todd too? Wow! We should start a religion... If we haven't already...! Well, on that revelation we'll have to stop to run some anvil adverts. We'll be back after these messages...