Pigdogfucker

If you find any of the following “intimidating”, “threatening”, or whatever pathetic term-of-the-day gets used to mean “oooh, I don’t like it, help me mummy”:

1) people drinking
2) people being drunk
3) people being drunk and loud

...then you are a worthless cunt who doesn’t deserve to live.

Yes, if people start actually threatening you (which means “saying they’re going to do bad things to you”, not “being loud and common within your earshot”), that’s a bad thing and they should be arrested. But as long as they don’t, then either shut the fuck up or (preferably) kill yourself and everyone who shares your DNA.

No way in hell do I believe this. It’s just about possible that only 33% of workers are hungover on any given day...

I get the feeling our libertarian friends will especially enjoy this clip. Gets really good from about 2m30 onwards…

Another good Doug Stanhope bit here. He’s like a right-wing version of Bill Hicks…

I just found this post from 2005 on the Evil Alcohol Menace, with particular reference to arseholes like Boris Johnson who want to ban it on trains. I think it’s fair to say I was right then, am right now, and that all the cunts who think there’s a problem can fuck off and die.

Falco has similar views, although they’re directed at whichever cunts came up with the idea of “passive drinking” last week rather than at Boris.

The decision to only allow one super-casino was a moronic one in the first place. Subject to rules on not allowing drunkards to gamble, not providing credit, and not cheating, we should have casinos wherever anyone wants to open one.

As with drugs and alcohol, gambling causes absolutely no harm to anybody: rather, as well as providing harmless entertainment to most people, it provides an outlet for people with self-destructive tendencies to destroy themselves. The idea of stopping the latter by restricting the supply of ways to destroy oneself, although appealing to generations of nannyists, Fabians and similar idiots, is simply rubbish, for obvious reasons (should you be an idiot nannyist, the obvious reason is that we can’t fucking ban everything. If would-be addicts can’t get hold of heroin, they’ll sniff glue, which is more dangerous. If they can’t gamble they’ll beat people up for fun, or gamble in illegal dens run by crooks, which is worse).

Stopping the self-destructive from self-destruction can only be achieved at the demand end not at the supply end, as demonstrated by the miserable failure to improve life of every supply-side initiative ever (see: pub opening hours. Are any of the daft cunts who opposed the relaxation of restrictions going to put their hands up and say ‘I was an idiot, it didn’t do any harm and now I can get a drink after work if I’m stuck on a project until midnight’, or are they all too stupid to have jobs in the first place?)

Therefore, the Lords’ decision to veto the government’s casino plans is the kind of moronic crap which makes me want to support the concept of throwing the daft fuckers out onto the street, despite the obvious importance of having a second chamber to eject legislation on those (far more frequent) occasions when the government isn’t trying to make life a bit less restricted and a bit more fun.

Fat Americans waste a billion gallons of petrol each year. Actually, it’s worse, as farming all that un-needed and un-healthy food wastes masses of fossil fuels. They should be making whisky instead. Hmm, whisky…

Nicaragua steps back into the fucking dark-ages by relenting to pressure from nut-job Catholics, and banning all forms of abortion, even when the mother’s life is at risk.

A police force has been told to stop logging information on drug dealers, as it would “lead to a higher target the following year”. Why this comes as a surprise to anyone is a mystery to me. If you set fairly intelligent people a fairly simple task (say, “meet all your targets, which are based upon last year’s performance”) then said people will find clever ways to game the system (such as, making sure you don’t over-shoot the target by much, as that would lead to a much higher target the next year). I’m lead to believe that since the 80s, business management has clearly understood this. Sadly New Labour learnt their ideas about management then, and seemingly haven’t bothered to actually look at any empirical evidence since.
—Doormat (who can still taste whisky: grim).

According to the BBC, “UK among worst ‘binge drinkers”. Nonsense, we’re among the three best!

“Steve Adeleke is unhonorable guy meeting girls by internet. His name is Steve Adeleke… He is creminal for me. I m 30 years old woman living in POland. I was met him by net. He made me baby , and he isnt interested in it… I’ m afraid its normal for him” – some, perhaps ever so slightly partial, observer

Update (December 2006): the Google archive of the post above has been cancelled, which suggests to me that whoever made it was being unfair to Mr Adeleke. So for the avoidance of doubt, Steve Adeleke is the Pigdogfucker Man Of The Month.

Do you like drinking? Are you concerned about becoming fat? While a recent Guardian article reveals the calorific value of various tipples, it’s silent on the crucial question of fat versus drunkenness. Which is obviously the point for the health-aware among us.

So, PDF feels obliged to create a table confirming the units-to-calories ratio of various different booze types. Use it wisely…

Today is, according to some dubious hack academic, the most miserable day of the year. This feels right: it’s bleak, it’s dull, it’s miserably cold, there’s no prospect of anything interesting happening for months, you feel rubbish, the Tube breaks down, and there are another four working days to go.

However, I’ve discovered an amazing miracle cure. When you get home of an evening, simply run a hot bath, then drink a stiff gin and tonic in it. Suddenly, the day’s miseries melt away. The world seems surprisingly agreeable. Going through tomorrow seems like a better alternative than suicide (although spontaneous suicide is never really an option: it would be a shame to go for suicide without taking a few terrible bastards with you, and that kind of thing doesn’t just plan itself…).

So, gin, quinine and a hot bath. As recommended by Pigdogfucker. It’s not just for unexpectedly pregnant women any more.