Some of these were still looking for my site.

the septic’s guide
septic dictionary
septic mans dictionary
syptic companion

Some of them were looking for the right sort of thing, although perhaps they didn’t find it on my site.

what does the term love mean to british

british euphemisms has your wooden leg fallen off

Some people were just angry. About stuff.

why are americans such tosspots
are audio cable companies taking the piss

Some people needed help with something.

how to demo letter g?

derogatory chat up lines

am i most likely to date a guy thats starts with the letter c

c-h-r-i-s-t-m-a-s meaning in each letter

what do americans call faggotts

I want to have a pear everyday is that ok

what belt would faggot attic ed wear

Some people were looking for… well, they were looking for something. Heaven knows what it was. I’d like to warn readers that this is where it’s going to start getting more colourful. If Faggot Attic Ed was too much for you, close this window now.

“fag snow fairy”

the bitterness of s.w.o.t. is in the analysis,while the sweetness of wedding cake is in the icing sugar.discuss

why do prostitutes eat ice cream

strung up by the tits tube

colloquialism for nothing dick

animal words for willies and vaginas beaver

dog buggers the grandmother

russian or romany lady required as live in 4-sex shagg buy please apply if you can help

how to get your wife to make sense and shag you

how to strangle your manky skanky daughters

how to transport a naked girl into your house in two seconds 

if was going to shove veggies up my pussy i use a zucchini

And finally, onto some personal favourites.

replica of chocolate cocks

arab womne looking like binbags

quickest way to deflate boner at the beach

where can you fine scandinavian grope suit 

what do you call a system that really slows work flow in a company 

Ah yes. That would be the internet. Back to work, everyone.

• Myself
• A friend of mine who works in marketing
• A friend of mine who works in publishing
• My wife (this doesn’t really count, as she said “you didn’t put my suggestion on there” and then refused to look at it)
• A selection of my colleagues at my real job

There were a few popular ones. In the end, these people whittled it down to small batch (some of which got modified in the whittling process). The ones left were:

• Proximity
• Commuter’s Companion
• BuzzStop
• Are We There Yet?
• Whereabouts

These are all pretty good names, but there can be only one winner. And the winner is…

… drum roll…

“Proximity”.

This wasn’t actually suggested by anyone on its own, but it was a part of a number of suggestions from a gentleman named Eamon Holmes, on Facebook. I’m pronouncing Eamon the winner, and will send through his books. Many thanks to all who took part – I expected about three responses so was somewhat surprised by what happened. A lot of the funny ones gave us a lot of entertainment but may possibly not count as very professional. And I am, of course, exceptionally professional at all times.

I’ll be posting here again when the app is available – will probably be in a month or so.

The app is pretty much finished, but it is currently uninspiringly called ”LocAlarm”. I need a way better name, and I am willing to give three signed copies of The Septic’s Companion to the person who thinks of one. How’s about THAT?

Why can’t I think of one myself? Well, it’s kind of complicated. I want it to be immediately apparent that it will stop you sleeping past your train/bus stop (because that’s mostly what it’s for) but I also don’t want to rule out all those other uses. The situation is complicated by the fact that it will be sold through the Windows Mobile Marketplace site, where people will only see the icon, app name and my company name, like so:

Clicking on the app shows a long description. This means that my program name and icon have to alert the casual browser to the fact that that this is to stop him sleeping past his train station, but also does other stuff. I was originally keen to have some sort of catchy Twitter-style name – was thinking about “Jitterbug” (as in “wake me up, before you go-go”) or “Dozer” but I think this is a no-go as you’d actually have to click on the app to see what it did. I then got thinking about some train-specific catchy ones (”WakeMeUp“, “BRT“) but wasn’t too happy that either of them was particularly great. The maximum length of app name is 58 characters, so I am now heading towards something horribly bland and Microsofty (”GPS Alarm“, “Location Alarm“) – I hate myself for doing this but, given the way in which the app is going to appear, I think it might be my only option.

Does anyone have any better ideas? If anyone can come up with some sort of name (and ideally an icon too) that somehow tells the reader all these things, I shall be delighted to send them three books. I will also immortalise them on the credits screen for the app, should they wish!

Q: How do you become a famous poet?
A: Sit in front of the fire until your Robbie Burns.

Robert Burns is the national poet of Scotland. “Robbie” is not an alternate name for any part of the body, although in this context it quite clearly is intended to mean “penis”.  Let’s be honest, it’s a pretty crap joke. Heavens, my dad finds it funny.

I was thinking about this joke for some reason recently, and it occured to me that this joke itself could be just the tip of an iceberg of jokes. In the honour of Scotland’s favourite bard, let me introduce you to the Burnsies. A Burnsie is a joke of the format “how do you <become a famous role>?” where the answer is “<perform some action> until your <heretofore unknown private part euphemism> <verb related to action, which has the slightest of suggestive connotations>”.

I know what you’re thinking. Perhaps this would be better illustrated by example. Or maybe you’re thinking this is shaping up to be a complete waste of your time, but you just can’t let go of the three minutes you’ve already spent. Here come the examples.

Q: How do you become a famous musician?
A: Sit in the bath until your Bill Withers.

That one, my friends, I invented. When your children try and tell you it in fifteen years, you can turn around proudly and say “I know the guy who invented that! Well, I sort of know him. He’s this guy on the internet. The internet? You remember, it’s that thing we all did when all the computers were connected by wires. Of course, back then we didn’t know the dangers.”

You’re ready for another one, I can tell.

Q: How do you have an affair with a famous politician?
A: Sit in a plant pot until your Jennifer Flowers.

I had to modify the rules very slightly for that one, but I think it can still qualify as a Burnsie.

Well, that’s my contribution to modern society. If you think of any, feel free to post them as comments. Oh yes, I know, you have this look of scornful disdain on your face, as if you were so far above this. But really, you’re angry because you haven’t thought of one yet.

The marketing concept is great - not only will you end up in the online casino, they’ve also given you a great system for spending your money there.

Without more ado, let me introduce “scott”.

From: scott <garywtw@my-syte.com>
Sent: 25 November 2009 08:46
To: me
Subject: Re: ok sending it
yo mate, ok I`ll give you my trick but if you give it someone else I`ll fuckin kill you : ) you know in roulette you can bet on blacks or reds. If you bet $1 on black and it goes black you win $1 but if it goes red you loose your $1.
So I found a way you can win everytime:

bet $1 on black if it goes black you win $1

now again bet $1 on black, if it goes red bet $3 on black, if it goes red again bet $8 on black, if red again bet $20 on black, red again bet $52 on black (always multiple you previous lost bet around 2.5), if now is black you win $52 so you have $104 and you bet:

$1 + $3 + $8 + $20 + $52 = $84 So you just won $20 : )

now when you won you start with $1 on blacks again etc etc. its always bound to go black eventually
(it`s 50/50) so that way you eventually always win. But there`s a catch. If you start winning too much (like $1000 a day) casino will finally notice something and can ban you. I was banned once on royal casino. So don`t be too greedy and don`t win more then $200 a day and you can do it for years. I think bigger casinos know that trick so I play for real money on smaller ones, right now I play on elite vip casino: www.elite24tables.net for more then 3 months, I win $50-$200 a day and my account still works. You`ll find roulette there when you log in go to “specialty” section – “american roulette”. And don`t you dare talling about it anyone else, if too many people knows about it casinos will finally found a way to block that trick. If you have any questions just drop me a line here or on skype.

c ya
—– Original Message —–
From: “rhs100932044″ <clr@chrisrae.com>
To: <garywtw@my-syte.com>
Sent: Tuesday, September 15, 2009 1:14 PM
Subject: Please send me the system

> Hi scott.
>
> Please tell me when you will send me your roulette trick?
> You promised you`ll send it few weeks ago : (
>
> Thanks in advance.
>

I don’t think it’s intended to be funny so it’s not exactly in line with other things I post here. Also, please be nice. This is something I wrote a long time ago, when I was young and stuff. These days I’m a possible contender for Most Thick-Skinned Person ever but, back then, I wasn’t so much, and I feel that I’ll end up reading your unpleasant comments in some sort of strange flashback mode. I was very much in two minds about posting this – I reread it yesterday and I didn’t think it looked terrible, but then I don’t know anything about poetry. Heaven knows why I wrote some. Oh well, here goes. Cry Havoc.

Same again, please

As democracy thunders through acres of tape
In some topical communist state
The headlines smile on at the Forces of Good
As they line up the Forces of Hate

The public euphoria seen on the streets
Shows a people released from their past
They knock down their walls and burn their bridges -
They’re free from oppression at last

But the days grow shorter and the queues grow longer
And taxes are starting to climb
The rose-tinted spectacles get slightly stronger
But the government needs some more time

So the tension flares up and the populous march
And the activists refill the square
Slitting the throats of the same old scapegoats
And firing their guns in the air

Out comes the tear gas, the crowd is dispersed
The Army is back on patrol
We’re into another state of emergency
But everything’s under control

 Last year’s leader gets out of his chair
And taps his cigar on the floor
He slowly and steadily straightens his hat
Turns round, and opens the door

About Americans

Let’s not beat around the bush here — Americans have a reasonably poor reputation in the rest of the world. They’re broadly regarded as brash, loud, self-obsessed, ethnocentric and uncultured. Why is this? Well, the rest of the world is exposed to Americans in three ways: 

• Television and films
• Foreign policy
• Tourists

 Because of television, the rest of the world is under the impression that all Americans are fantastically wealthy, and are engaged in a polygamous relationship with a homosexual dwarf whom, they will discover that evening on The Jerry Springer Show, is actually their half brother. Because of films, the world thinks each American has an unusual super-power that he’s been unwilling to use because of an accident that happened in his childhood. Eventually, when the entire world is threatened, he will use this power and save humanity. Afterwards, he will fall and love and unexpectedly die.

Because of foreign policy, the world believes that Americans hate anyone with a political system different to their own, and intend to turn the rest of the world democratic or kill them all trying. For the average American, this is a particularly unfortunate state of affairs as he or she stands very little chance of influencing things. So it goes.

Tourism, however, is another kettle of fish. It’s through tourism that Americans can show the rest of the world that they’re not megalomaniac inbreds and are actually perfectly nice people. The way that Americans can do this is, by and large, by turning a blind eye to certain godforsaken acts of complete lunacy being perpetrated by the local population. Whilst I’ll try to keep this Britain-centric, the truth is that a lot of this advice applies to Europe as a whole and some of it to the rest of the world.

One thing Europeans always like guffawing snootily about is the fact that most Americans do not own a passport. What they don’t realise is that America is so gobsmackingly large that Americans can have seen a vast proportion of the geographic spectrum without leaving the boundaries of their own country. Most Brits only possess a passport so that they can go to Mediterranean islands, get drunk, try to have sex with other Brits, then spend most of the next day looking for bacon and eggs and a pub that serves Carlsberg. Try asking Brits how many of them have been outside Europe, and you’ll get the same sort of proportions as the number of Americans with passports. Still, though, there’s a general feeling in Europe that Americans aren’t familiar with cultures outside their own, so here are some handy cheat notes to help debunk that myth.

Talking

 Of course, it’s true that most Americans are comparatively poorly-travelled with regard to exposure to other languages, and different accents. When conversing with people in the U.K., bear in mind that these people are having as much trouble understanding your weird accent as you are having with theirs.

When compared to Americans, Brits don’t do a lot of talking, and they tend to do it rather quietly. The most British of Brits simply sit in the corner grunting every so often. It’s also a general rule in the U.K. that one only really talks to one’s friends. Given this, it seems difficult to understand how a person goes about getting friends if they’re not allowed to talk to anyone, but rules are rules. Americans will normally chit-chat to one another when they are in some sort of shared limbo (in the queue at the supermarket; waiting for a store to open; et cetera). In the larger towns and cities, Brits do not do this. They will stand in stoic silence. Let’s say an alien spacecraft were to touch down in the car park at a local home improvement shop. A slimy green alien walks out towards the door of the shop, notices the “closed” sign, utters a strange disembodied sigh, throws a £10 voucher on the ground, and walks back to his spacecraft. The Brits who were standing waiting for the store to open would probably be mute. Perhaps if the alien was unusually tall, someone would mutter “he’s a big ’un” or something.

Service Expectations

Europeans tend to believe that Americans are demanding little princesses, always wanting this that or the other some strange way and never being happy to just fit in with what everyone else is doing. This is, of course, because Europeans love to get really, really bad service. This pervades society at a very fundamental level. Sometimes it means standing in a restaurant’s entrance for forty minutes before being told there’s an hour-long wait for a table. Sometimes it means not being let onto the plane because the instructions said clearly to print out the confirmation number, and all you did was write it down. Sometimes it means that no, there is no possible way that this particular dish can be served without the lettuce. Call bullshit on this great tradition and you will end up being the problem, because none of these Brits would know what good service looked like if it came up and bit them on the bum. When the waitress absent-mindedly pours soup in your lap and then claims that it was because you were in her way, just nod and smile. Professional malpractice is just one of those things that happens in restaurants! Get on with your day. Standing up and appealing to the sensibilities of the other restaurant-goers is not going to work. The minute you get up and say “Oh, man, it’s all down my front!” the assembled masses are not going to think “Boy, what a clumsy waitress.” They are going to think “Here we go; another American whining about something.” Changing this system will take many hundreds of years of societal evolution. It is not something that you should even vaguely attempt while on vacation.

In addition to their expectation of appalling service, Brits simply adore waiting for things. There is nothing more exciting to a British person than walking into the supermarket the day before Christmas and discovering that only one checkout is operational and the person serving there has learning difficulties. When faced with a selection of different queues for the cash machine, Brits will inevitably join the longest one. Do not mess with this system either. If there’s a twenty minute wait at the pharmacist’s counter when there also appear to be three would-be pharmacists sitting back there making chains of paper clips, do not dare suggest that they open another counter. Just thank the Lord that there’s someone there at all. If there’s nobody there do not, whatever you do, drum your fingers on the counter. You’ll be that little American princess again. I know, it’s hard. Count to ten.

Heritage

Many Americans have some British heritage. It’s tempting to try to engage Brits on this topic because, hey, you have something in common. They’ll want to chit-chat about their own heritage and perhaps you’ll find some sort of commonality. Right? Wrong. Brits just take for granted that they come from hundreds of generations of other Brits and they don’t give a flying fuck about their heritage. Most of them couldn’t tell you where their great grand-parents came from. The fact that your family are the McDonalds from Airdrie is going to be about as interesting to the average Brit as the fact that your ex-husband worked in Wal-Mart. In fact, the latter is probably much more interesting. Their eyes will light up as they as ask “Hey, is it true they sell guns in Wal-Mart?”

Clothes

If you wish to be a stealth-tourist, there are two items of clothing which you must not, under any circumstances, wear.

The first of these is traditional clothing from the place you’re visiting. A quick look around Glasgow will reveal few, if any, people in kilts. These items of clothing are to be taken home and worn on special occasions, not to be worn while browsing the fungal itch creams in Boots.

The second item of clothing you must never wear is white socks. I know. Everyone in America wears white socks. In the United Kingdom, only pikeys wear white socks. Take a look around a high street in the U.K. Observe the correlation between colour of socks and fear that the person may kill you.

Comparisons with American Things

Finally, Britain has a large number of tourist attractions. Like all tourist attractions everywhere, they all pride themselves in being the best/ oldest/deepest/tallest of something. Because America is a very large country full of ambitious people, the superlatives claimed by British tourist attractions are, by and large, ball-bouncingly shit when compared with their American equivalents. The Brits secretly know this, but are very hurt if you mention it. Your vacation will generally fly by easier if you keep phrases such as “I think there’s one bigger than that in my yard” or “This is IT?” to yourself.

Armed with these handy tips, you should be able to avoid being labelled as the bad variant of American tourist. And, if you get fingered all the same, you can always pretend you’re Canadian.

So I did that. I decided that I was going to blog only about things that were particularly good or bad about America. This tied in nicely with the content on my dictionary site, which I was sort of intending to promote. I carefully made notes about things that I liked, and things that I didn’t like. Then I made blog posts about them.

After a while, I discovered a problem. I neither enjoy nor excel at being positive about things. This happens at work, as well – I keep telling customers that are products are okay, which is not apparently the messaging that marketing had in mind. This personality trait means that it’s very hard to write a blog that’s supposed to be 50% positive – the blog sort of morphed into “things that are bad about America” and “things that are bad about other places”. Also, I ran out of topics. Friends of mine very kindly suggested new ones, but it’s hard to rant about something that wasn’t your idea.

So I’m going to do what everyone told me not to do, and just put my random ramblings in here. Most of them will be a bit negative.

The condiment of Beelzebub

In America, the way in which you receive your condiments will depend a bit on the sort of restaurant you’re in. If it’s an extremely expensive restaurant, you obviously shouldn’t be asking for condiments at all. If it’s a fairly expensive restaurant, you’ll get a rather nice silver dish cointaining your condiment of choice, with a dainty spoon in it. If it’s a reasonably-priced restaurant, it’ll be the bottle the sauce came in. If it’s a really cheap place or an on-street vendor, it’ll be one of those industrial-sized vats of condiment with a shampoo-style dispenser on the top, and you’re left holding your dinner under it and squirting at it. Consider yourselves lucky, Americans.

In Britain, in a really expensive restaurant, you’ll get the nice silver dish with a spoon. Treasure this because, pretty much anywhere else, you will get a miniature individual sachet of sauce. These sachets are around 8cm long and 2cm wide, and are made of a strange metal/plastic composite originally invented for protecting components of the Hubble Space Telescope. A note on the side says “tear here”. This is sarcastic. You can tell it’s sarcastic, because there is a tiny picture of a pair of scissors. No tearing for you, bucko. The only way these things are intended to be destroyed is by an intergalactic singularity.

To open the sachet, you must grip the corner next to the “tear here” nick as tightly as you can between your front two teeth, and then pull the packet away from your mouth. The packet is covered in your sweat, from the period a few moments earlier when you really thought you were going to tear it with your hands. It is more than a little slippery. You’re going to have to hold it pretty tight. Those space telescope scientists may not know how to make a mirror, but this sucker was designed to withstand re-entry. Get ready for a rough ride.

At this point, your dinner companions may start to pull away from the table or run to the loo. This is normal.

Those telescope scientists no doubt have friends in the rocket business. They all hang around together, joking about how rocket science isn’t all that hard anyway and making puns about quarks. Anyway, their rocket friends will tell you that any container, when squeezed as hard as possible and then split, will propel its contents vigorously in the direction of the breach. These sachets should come with some sort of written warning, and perhaps a set of protective eyewear. At the very least, they should say “not for use in densely populated areas” in clear lettering on the side.

And why do the Brits insist on serving condiments like this? I can only assume it’s because there is empirical evidence that one in five males has, at some time, stirred a pub tomato ketchup container with his John Thomas. Or perhaps some people have a penchant for opening the shared mustard, sneezing in it, then replacing the cap. It’s just the way they roll. Are we honestly that untrusting a society that we fear constantly that other pub-goers have been putting ricin in the tartare sauce? Are we really that germophobe that we can’t stand to eat something that’s been touched by another human being?

And, well, I hate to jump on the popular bandwagon, but isn’t this rotten for the environment? Whenever you ask for ketchup in the UK, you can be sure that they’re not going to give you only one space sachet. They’re going to give you six. And you just try giving back the ones you didn’t use. They’ll eye you with a suspicious look. They certainly won’t touch them. Who knows what you’ll have done with them. Heavens, they’ve probably been up your arse twice.