PROBLEM PAGE 25
DECEMBER.01.2008 TEDHANDSOME@gairrhydd.COM
Ted Handsome He's a ruddy good lad
A letter about complaining Dear Ted, I'm at my wit's end. Like many of your regular readers, I am a stuckin-the-mud conservative pillock, who has such dull and predictable views that I bore most of my friends half to death. Therefore, given the various newsworthy events that have occurred in the last few months I've been able to bring my snipey grumbling to almost Olympic levels of irritation. However, now that the whole Jonathan Ross/Russell Brand malarkey seems to have blown over, and the utterly ludicrous nature of the fuss being kicked up about John Sergeant, I can't really bring myself to get wound up about anything in particular. You always seem to be teeming over with bile and hatred, have you any ideas for something for me to complain about? I do realise that complaining that I have nothing to complain about is somewhat of an amusing
paradigm to be in, but could you please look aside this to give me some advice. Preferably in a profane and amusing fashion Yours, William Hysterectomy Dear William, One cannot simply have a topic for complaint thrust upon them, one must develop a slow burning, seething
I am sure it will end up as another lazy Channel 4 list show presented by that awful, haunted ventriloquist's dummy, Jimmy Carr
plain about nothing in particular is a marvellously British phenomenon, and one that truly defines us as a nation. I would pursue this matter further if it were not for the fact that I am sure it will end up as another lazy Channel 4 list show presented by that awful haunted ventriloquist's dummy, Jimmy Carr. I swear if my evening's television viewing is ever ruined by seeing that useless twat's gurning plastic face I will stamp on a kitten. Not to mention the utter forest of dicks that accompany these kind of shows. Attention Northern comics, simply repeating products and advertising slogans from the 1980s and saying 'what's all that about?' is not a joke, nor is it funny. You know who you are. Yours, Ted
hatred over many, many minutes of reading a letter. Being able to com-
A letter about my resurrection Dear Ted, OMG! I can't believe that it's nearly Christmas! I love Christmas sooo much! I love all the decorations, the trees, the presents and everything about it! I love how people all love it, and everyone is really very happy at this time of year. People who don't like Christmas are awful people! I don't understand how people can't enjoy such a wonderful time of year. What with the needless repetition of pointless traditions, the insulting nod to an outdating belief system and the enforced gaiety that everyone has to endure through gritted teeth at the risk of being accused of a spoilsport. What can I do to make all my friends who don't like Christmas to feel the same way as me?
Yours, Katie Misogyny Dear Katie, Ah, Christmas time. Good old bloody Christmas. Drink driving, disappointed children and domestic abuse.
I hate the reverential tone given to listening to some decrepid old tart lecturing the nation every year at Christmas Truly a time to be merry. I actually really don't like Christmas, which I am sure will come as a massive shock to
the vast majority of people. Not only do I really not enjoy being cajoled into pointless activities and spending money on people I wouldn't usually waste my piss on them if they were on fire. I hate the reverential tone given to listening to some decrepid old tart lecturing the nation every year at Christmas. I hate watching the Great Escape. I really don't like being forced into interacting with your colleagues in some deluded attempt to bring these people together under the banner of a commercial festivity. In fact, I think that the only thing that I do like about Christmas is the fact that inevitably a significant amount of children will end up disappointed at their lack of the latest video game console or whichever fad has infected their glucose-riddled mind. Bah humbug. Yours, Ted.
Handsome's Week
T
his week, I have mainly been avoiding the gaudy, glittery monstrosity that is 'Winter Wonderland.' In my vast world experience, there is very little that is wonderous or wonderful about winter. For one, the fillies all decide to start wrapping up in countless layers of warm clothing and the only few that actually buck the trend and decide to flash a bit of flesh are already so well insulated with flesh and cellulite
as to pretty much counteract the next few erections that I attempt to have. So to glorify winter as this magical period in such a tacky and repulsive manner offends me deeply. The last thing I want to see are the various members of the Cardiff underbelly, resplendent in market knockoff designer wear, taking turns to stick their tongue down the throat of some underage slag and producing boluses of phlegm to land on unsuspecting patrons of the
whole bloody event. In fact the whole damned place looks like some ghastly tribute to Coney Island, yet without any of the things that made the original Coney Island fun in the first place. I mean, where are all the tattooed freaks, the carnies hustling you and where, I ask you, is the flaming heroin? Exactly.
Ted on...
...vulgar displays of grief/anger
I
have avoided the rather prickly subject of the latest poster child for tragedy, for the simple reason that my light-hearted jocularity would be misconstrued as tantamount to paedophilia by the pitchfork wielding masses. However, my spending an increasing amount of time on time-consuming anti-social networking site Facebook has presented me with little else for the last few weeks. In between the various groups warning me about ‘What UCAS didn’t warn me about Uni’ or imploring me to join a ‘RECORD BREAKING FACEBOOK GROUP!!!! GUINESS RECORDS OFFICIAL GROUP’, I have noticed an abundance of groups set up with the undoubtedly noble intention of commemorating a child that none of them have ever had contact with. While it cannot be denied that the events that came to define this poor child’s life were horrific, is a poorly spelt, badly photoshopped elegy to the child in question really what it requires? However, what shocks me even more is the seething level of violence these groups seem to foster. Simple minded knucklebiters can go from biblical teeth-gnashing and chestbeating utter despondency at the maltreatment of this child, to complete and utter murderous bloodlust for the parents. Both men and women, young and old, of all creeds and colour join under the banner of complete and utter blind fuckwittery to engage in contempt of court and conspiracy to murder. Apparently another thing that I didn’t realise is that being a mother qualifies you to spout such utter unbelievable toss, which is clearly the incorrigible truth, simply because you’ve pushed some unwanted bawling sprog out of your hateful twat. Just because you let some hairgelled wanker spaff his illiterate seed all up the inside of your thigh in a postOceana two Bacardi Breezer kneetrembler, does
not give you some inherent authority to discuss child protection issues. Of course, I wouldn’t know, I’m not a ‘proper mum’. Would a proper mum really be calling for prison inmates to kill people? Have you ever even heard of a Vicious Cycle you barely cogent pleb? Violence breeds violence, and that’s quite the example you are setting for your kids, isn’t it? It’s the McCanns I feel sorry for. Remember all the hoo-haa about the cute little middle-class girl who disappeared in Portugal? No, you don’t? Oh right, of course, because the gutter press have latched themselves onto another child, and dropped their ‘Find Maddie’ campaign as if it were built of explosive scorpions. Quite why I have been drawn into this whole affair is actually quite beyond me. I only signed up to the bloody Facebook site, because I was assured by some acquaintances that it was a veritable mine of quim, and so far the only smell of minge that I've had is off middle-aged women and confused Persian men. Ladies, here is some advice from the Tedmaster General. Men aren't entirely stupid. We do realise that the less of you your contact picture entails, the uglier you are. Indeed, the same is true for group photos. If a woman uses a picture of a group of friends as her contact picture, then I will guarantee that she will be ugliest one in the photograph. In fact, I'm still not sure I trust this whole internet malarkey. Old Handsome Stables is becoming quite the mess, and so I decided to hire some help. However, a lesson that I quickly learnt was that under no circumstances do you ever want to search google for 'young lad + grooming'. Well, not unless you want a stiff knock at the door, and your finest silk collar felt by a hairy-knuckled policeman. Oh how we laughed later on. After the random beatings in my gaol cell, not to mention the buggery. Oh the buggery.