Hardcore Media Law

I was sat in Media Law this afternoon, as I am on most Fridays. Key phrase - most. Not many people bother to turn up, let alone listen, after the first couple of lectures. Our lecturer repeats himself and all the stories, anecdotes and "unique whips" that come with it. So much so that a Facebook group has actually been set up to showcase all of his top-rated and favourite quotes and sayings. Seems boring? Yeahpppp. That's how we get our kicks.

There was one piece of useless and inappropriate information that did catch my attention though. My lecturer's random question of the day that seems to crop up completely from left field was this: What is the most commonly used word on the internet? Law-related very valid question, I know. Typical answers such as "A" and "The" were assumed by most, so we all pressed Apple + Tab and carried on slagging him off on Facebook.

His answer. The answer to the most commonly used word on the internet - Sex.

Sorry what?

At the mention of this word, every student's head (typically) shot up from the shorthand exercises we were given earlier. A reference to sex in a Media Law lecture was like Christmas in Israel- it just never happened. Especially from a man you wouldn't blame for forgetting what sex actually was at his age. Facebook lost half it's online population in that split second.

Because apparently, 70% of the internet is entirely made up of porn. Rubbish, tacky, occasionally excellent, porn. Man's greatest invention, a complex system more powerful than any other imaginable to the human being, is actually filled up with cock-sucking, boob-wanking, bukaki-drenched S & M hot action. A waste of human resources? Perhaps. Catholics certainly wouldn't agree, as we see in the educational documentary "Monty Python - Every sperm is sacred" sketch, still to this day played in primary school classrooms to avoid "the banana lesson".

What does this say about us then? Does it say that we are still "driven to pursue the continuance of the human race" and the only way we can safely do this is to keep the pipes clean? Points for effort, but no. What 70% of the internet being made up of sex actually shows is one basic fact - that we are all f*cking perverts. Including my law lecturer, who will most likely sue me for "defamation" after this. Do I know what the consequences of this are? Hell yes I do, say it with me now. Two years imprisonment, unlimited faaane. He can't sue me for it being the truth because it's not. The 70% fact is wrong. After this blog, its 71 actually.

Sat-Navs and Jersey Plots

It interested me to read this morning that scientists have discovered a new, larger ring that runs around Saturn that has never been seen before. According to the BBC News website, the extra ring is "probably made up of debris kicked off Saturn's moon Phoebe by small impacts".

All this begs one very simple question. If these scientists at NASA are really as savvy as they say they are, sprouting from tip-top universities such as Harvard and Yale, then how comes they didn't spot this f*ck-off circle around Saturn slightly earlier?! Science is not exactly my forte, but if you gave me a telescope, pointed it in vaguely the right direction and asked me to take a look, I recon I could point out that this tree has one more ring in it's trunk than Buzz and Woody admit to. After all, we're not dealing with something the size of a Hula Hoop here, are we. So next time you find yourself floating around in space, don't rely on the Satnav to get you home, because chance's are it's shit.

The best story I read today even beats this though:

"Drugs baron found guilty of conspiring to import £1m of cannabis into Jersey by boat from Amsterdam"

I don't smoke weed, cannibis, skunk or grass. In fact, I try to avoid anything that cows would also eat. That said! I'd like to offer a piece of advice to this gang, should they ever stumble across this. IF you are going to import that many drugs into one single country, would you really, really start with Jersey? Jersey?! I'm hardly known back where I come from as a drugs warlord, but anybody with sense can see that importing all these drugs onto what is essentially an island somewhat limits one's options. The chances of escape should you get busted are pretty low when the furthest you can run away from Jersey is the end of the pier. I'm also not sure that of all places in the world, where drugs are rife and people kill for a line or a spliff, Jersey has the highest demand for weed.
What is the most ironic actually is that Amsterdam, the one place in the world where I would expect weed to be in the most demand also happens to be the one place they attempted to smuggle it out from! What was this escapade? Lads, I have a plan. Lets take this weed from a country we can smoke and sell it completely legally, to an island off the coast of England and sell it to the wrinklies and ferry-drivers. Top plan. And this is the ring-leader who "police still consider him to be one of Britain's most wealthy and influential criminals". If that's the case, then fuck me dealers are thick! Enjoy the spliff whilst you've got it, otherwise it's going to cost you a ferry ride and a stick of rock too.

I want to do a poo at Paul's!

I've been at university for nearly three weeks now, and my room is finally starting to smell a bit (you were right Mum, you can't recycle cereal milk into chedder). I removed the bowl of soggy Weetabix but it wouldn't leave, so we had to go to Asda's.

What was supposed to be a ten-minute round trip ended up being a three hour spend-a-thon. This consisted of a cycle of insisting on saving money not buying luxuries and then spotting Captain-Rocket lollies on special offer (three for a pound!). I finally spotted the spray stuff with that advert with the kid needing "a poo at Paul's", but it was too expensive. I also thought insisting on taking your trousers down "only at Paul's house" was a little rapey. The product is called "Touch and Fresh". Touch and Fresh? Er, back on the register.

The little glass ones that don't spray randomly and make me jump were a lot cheaper. I picked up the lavender and chamomile one to take a look, but was then blitzkrieged by my housemate because lavender and chamomile is "a fucking annoying smell that would put me in a bad mood". Funny that, I never knew smells induced periods? We went for Morning Mist, with a fiver riding on it smelling better than the other one. We didn't think how we'd know which smelt better, but we weren't going to start smelling plastic packaging in the middle of Asda's to find out. We see fit lesbians in that place all the time. We didn't want to cramp our style.

The smell in my room since replacing the penicillin-farms with air-fresheners has actually improved. Having my housemate stroll in my room without knocking, sniff, smile and then leave again as if he'd never been there wasn't pleasant. Him doing that when I'm standing on one leg putting my pants on is even worse. Knock next time. In all fairness though, it does smell damn good in here since Madame Mist arrived - thanks Glade. You're better than Johnson's, "a family company". Fucking queers.

P.S. Here is the video of the Touch and Fresh. You can decide for yourself if Paul is a maggot-fondler or not...:



P.P.S. ^^ Sorry about that. Apparently Paul can violate videos too! Here's the clever one that told her mummy what he was doing:

The P90X Chin-Up Bar

After settling into university, my housemate and I both agreed that keeping in shape would be an issue. However, funding this issue would also become an issue. Students aren't exactly renowned for being money-making machines, and the gym costs are a little excessive. We therefore got thinking. How do we keep in shape (or get into it even) without busting the bank? Running is far too time-consuming and often leads to embarrassment if running in public. Even in Bournemouth, there will be somebody driving past who will find my beetroot-coloured face amusing. Getting up early to avoid this isn't even an option, and hitting the gym without paying will also get me in trouble.

Googling this one night, we came across the P90X chin-up bar; a clever invention which hooks onto the door frame without needing to drill holes in the wall to keep it in place. Our student house deposit would therefore be safe, and the bar would be mobile so when Ben isn't using it, I can. We compared it to it's main rival, the JML IronGym, but the P90X was cheaper, and JML only reminded me of the Ped Egg. For twenty-three quid, it was a good investment.

The bar itself comes with more screws and holes than a French orgy. Assembling the chin-up bar (after working out what went where) ended up burning more calories than actually using the thing, not to mention the exercise used in catching the free bus into town to get a spanner. The first impressions were not so great. When I'm actually using it however, it seems fine. My muscles ache after a measly number of pull-ups (weed) and I'm out of breath from just hanging on it. Going to the gym in college was clearly a waste of time knowing I did jack over the summer. Fail. I suppose in conclusion, apart from forgetting it's on my door and hitting my head on it, the P90X proves itself to be a safe little bit of equipment that doesn't break the budget - just my door frame.