Category Archives: Shit I Make Up

Ancient Weapons & Bad Puns Are No Match For A Good Blaster At Your Side, Kid!

There is a fair bit of Star Wars referencing going on in my blog.

It’s a it strange too cos I’m not that a huge pedantic fan, though I know a few, but the originals are quality (the prequels too to a much lesser extent).

I guess it’s just one of those things that is easy to apply to all aspects of your life and things that go on. There is always an opportunity to fire off a quote from the film or a hideous pun..

Which brings me to my main point.


Star Wars puns.

Sometimes they are great, like this:

"I Find Your Lack of Face Disturbing"
click through to buy a t-shirt with this design

or this:

"I Feel a Disturbance in the Horse"

(both the above by Chris McVeigh)

But then there is my recent pun, which I felt compelled to turn into a “work of art”.

Actually, the reason I came up with this one was that I was looking at the different searches that have lead people to this blog. At first I was seeing completely mental sets of search terms, for example:

So, physics students and perverts are my core audience?


"carbonite is forever" - Imagine what kind of a James Bond film that would've been?

not forgetting the classic

That's fuckin' deviance right there, that is!

But it was the 1st of December when I looked at the search terms and saw this:

"Lego Boa Boa Fett"

and I was in fucking stitches.

“Boa Boa Fett”? BOA fucking BOA? Ha ha. I thought that was brilliant.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it that whole day and eventually decided that I would attempt to create something based on that search term as a t-shirt design to punt on Redbubble.

Naturally I dropped the superfluous second “Boa” (who wouldn’t, right?) and was then left with “Boa Fett” which I thought was fairly humorous at the time but since have figured it to be a really poor example of a Star Wars* pun .

Still, bad pun or not, I started my creation.

It wasn’t long til I came upon my first problem… I’m a shitty drawer (I’m sure I’ve alluded to that previously in this ‘ere blog). However, a bit of persistence and I was off an running.

I had envisioned this dramatic full frame piece featuring the scaly, glistening face of a Boa Constrictor decaled out to look like Boba Fett’s helmet. Alas, my skills have yet to reach such proficiency and the end result was something much different.**

That said, it’s not “bad” different, just different different. Kind of like when they changed Jennifer, Marty’s girlfriend, in Back to the Future from Claudia Wells in part 1 to Elizabeth Shue in the following adventures

They are both decent birds but Shue wins cos she got the tits out in Leaving Las Vegas

and not at all like when Darth Lucas changed the Force Ghost of Anakin Skywalker from Sebastian “Yooo werrr riiiiiiiightt” Shaw to Hayden “Sandhater” Christensen.

C'mon, Lucas. You don't even have him looking in the right fuckin' direction.

So, I’ve finished my “design”. Not as good as I hoped but I’m happy enough.

I’ve made four versions but the only alterations are text additions. Click the pics to see the designs in different t-shirt colours (and buy in bulk for that added discount).

The Baddest Bounty Hunter in the Jungle/Galaxy

Boa Fett!

Yo, dawg! I put a pun in your pun so you can pun while you're punning!

Calssic Mandalorian script. What d'you mean you "can't read it"?

Leave a comment if you have opinions on them (those 5 of you that are reading my blog).


(actually I am a huge pedantic fan – just ignore that introduction above)

*I don’t really know why I’ve italicised all the movie titles but left things like “Boba Fett”*** as standard?

**Anyone who does have the skills though, feel free to attempt a more dramatic, cooler, version of “Boa Fett”.

***Ha ha, I actually typed “Bobo Fett” as I was writing that line. Fuckin’ “Bobo”! Ha ha, can see it now, a little Bonobo chimp wearing Fett’s helmet, wanking like he’s about to die! Quality, and I think it’s evolved to being called “Bonobo Fett”. I think that’s next on the list (if I can learn to draw properly).


From Jingo to…oh, fuck it.


Shut up! I fixed it...alright?


Redbubble links:

Fucked up Boba version

and rectified Jango version

I’m away to cry in the corner.



From Jango to Jingo[ism]

UPDATE!! – Right, before the pedants see this…yes I fucked up. “Jango to Jingo” but I used Boba ‘s distinctive red colouring rather than Jango’s less distinctive blue colouring.

I am an erse! I will fix it in another update after work but I think I shall keep the original.

Jango Fett + Jedi Master Sifo Dyas + Kaminoans = Jango Clones

Jango Clones + Training + Accelerated Growth + Trade Disputes = Cannon Fodder Clone Troopers

Clone Troopers + Darth Sidious + Order 66 + non clone recruits = Storm Troopers

Ta da. See my maths is still kick ass.


Made a new “design” that I have uploaded to Redbubble. It features the visors and surround colours of the helmets from Jango Fett, Clone Troopers and Storm Troopers beacuse, as well as being cloned, Jango’s Mandalorian armour was likely the inspiration for the Clone Troopers armour which later evolved into the Stormies armour.

You'd think they'd get more work out of the Troopers if they turned those frowns upside down*

I might be wrong on that point and I await the vilification of fanboy pedants across the globe.

I made the visors sharp but kept the background colours a bit “grungy” – would look better if I had a tablet but I don’t so it doesn’t.

Buy or don’t buy there is no trial.


*I wonder if anyone has done that before? To google!

The Clone Saga – They Think It’s All Over…

I’m a fan of the TV show Dexter. He’s a Forensic Blood Spatter analyst for the Miami Dade Metro Police by day. By night he is the “Dark Avenger” – a serial killer with a near insatiable lust for murder (of those who deserve it).

Every time he lets loose the “dark passenger” inside him he inevitably has to clean up the mess (bet the fucking “dark passenger” doesn’t hang about for that bit, prick). The show, and the entertaining books, provide some details of how he goes about this.

The key points are thus:

1. Prepare your Death Room by lining the walls, floor, ceiling, windows and doors with copious amounts of plastic/polythene sheeting and heavy duty duct tape.

2. Post murder, cut your victim up into manageable chunks.

3. Wrap each manageable chunk in heavy duty black bin liners, taped closed with heavy duty duct tape.

4. Recover the, now heavily bloodstained, plastic/polythene sheeting from the Death Room and also wrap same up as per manageable chunks of human.

5. Finally, dispose of manageable chunks/plastic sheeting by taking out your motor boat a good distance into the Atlantic and throw over the side.


Knowing the above it makes you wonder how in the fuck the check out girl at B&Q didn’t suss him out? I mean he carried out a ridiculous amount of murder and cleaned it all up the same way! Pay peanuts you get unobservant, slack-jawed monkeys, I suppose.

Anyway, I digress.

Why do I bring up Dexter‘s methods of disposal? I bring it up as this was the position I found myself in immediately after my triumph over my evil doppelgänger…


May, 2010

As I looked down at the corpse of my clone on the bedroom floor I was besieged by a mixture of feelings. That of triumph and joy at victory combined with feelings of dread and panic over what to do with the body before the missus arrived home.

I thought back to episodes of Dexter and my own training as a CSI but decided there was no help to be gained there. Not with the time I had for disposal.

Then, suddenly, I was hit with an epiphany! The next most obvious means to dispose of a corpse of your very own evil twinner…freezing in carbonite!

I let a small, smug grin play out over my face, delighted that once again my genius level intellect could save my bacon by breaking the boundaries of accepted physical and natural laws.

I collected my hammer, chisel and #2 pencil, licked the tip (of the pencil) and got to work. 10 minutes later and my newly minted carbon freezing chamber was complete.

Aerial photograph of my newly created Carbon Freezing Chamber

Without bothering to wash my hands after the build I heaved the heavy corpse of my clone to the operations deck of the the freezing apparatus. I balanced the corpse upright, as if standing under its on volition and meandered to the control terminal.

As my finger hovered over the big red “Freeze” button, I looked towards the clone, eyes watering slightly. “I love you” I said, and then, quietly, under my breath, whispered “I know” imagining it to have been said by the clone as it once was, many moons ago, by a charming rouge at the mining facility on Bespin Cloud City.

I thumbed the button and the Carbon Freezing Chamber began to work. The whole process took less than a few minutes to complete and, with an almighty clang, the carbonite encased body of my doppelgänger lay flat on the floor of the operations deck of my freshly built, and fully operational, carbon freezing chamber.

Carbonite Clone - The fusing of 2 technologies that the rest of humanity can only dream about creating.

Next began the simple clean up. I manoeuvred the carbonite block (quite easily since it had anti-gravity generators installed into the underside of the casing) to the garden shed where I propped it upright and draped a sheet over it. Then, I quickly dismantled the freezing chamber mere moments before the return of the missus.

Result. Clone taken care of and no one any the wiser of my activities.

All was well for the next 7 days until, once again, I found myself alone in the house with nothing to do. I resisted for about an hour of solitude before I was again  staring at the carbonite encased corpse of my clone.

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t leave well enough alone. I had to unfreeze it, even if just to exam the consequences of carbon freezing a dead body.

I punched in the commands to the control panel on the block and stepped back. The block melted away in a fusion of light, heat and rapturous music to reveal…

…my clone, shrunken to size that would allow it, if still alive, to take Kenny Baker’s place inside R2-D2! It seems as though the process that causes temporary blindness in living subjects serves to shrink the body of a decased subject. Fascinating.

I lifted up the diminutive reproduction and examined it. It was a perfect and oh-so cute (as most little things are) and I knew then exactly what to do with it.

You may, dear reader, remember that a few episodes back I described the business of creating an image to advertise t-shirts from Darkbunnytees (and the events thereafter that led directly to the creation of the Carbon Freezing Chamber).

Well, I had received word that the judges on the competition had been bribed and that my entry would not be the victor as it should so obviously be. This put in a bit of a bad mood and angry at this usurping I tasked my superior mind to come up with a new competition for me to show my prowess and ultimately win and, as I gazed at the miniature clone, I now knew what that competition would be…

…I was to perform as a ventriloquist on Britain’s Got Talent.

I got work, deftly slicing and dicing at the clone’s face in order to give him the required ventriloquist dummy style mouth. A dab of make up here and there to hide the grey pallor and highlight the cheeks and nose and I was ready to go.

Fast forward 2 days and I was preparing to go on stage towards my new destiny. Lubed up to the max I got the clone/dummy into position, squeezing and manoeuvring until I was wearing it firmly, like a glove and I took to the stage.

It's amazing how far up a human (even a shrunken one) you can stuff another humans arm.

I performed my act, throwing my voice around like a ninja launching throwing stars at a samurai. The crowd were cheering, screaming my name. I could see Ant & Dec off-stage tearing up with joy and expectation. This was my moment.

I sensed Simon Cowell pulling his trousers up a few more inches in respect of my act. I witnessed (along with the entire crowd) Amanda Holden wiping herself down post-orgasm. Then I looked towards Piers Morgan.

But Piers wasn’t there. It was someone else. Someone…familiar.

Then realisation dawned.

It was the same man that I had discovered had bribed the judges in the Darkbunnytees competition. He was here now, as one of the judges on Britain’s Got Talent.

I narrowed my eyes at him and he responded in kind and winked. The bastard! He must’ve set up another bribe situation. I thought to myself that, surely, any bribe would not stop Holden voting yes (not after the power of that orgasm she had just had watching my act) but Cowell, he was the weak link.

I waited, with baited breath as the result was proferred to me.

I was not to progress to the next round. Damn you Cowell and damn you unknown stranger.

How many more times will this new nemesis of mine foil my plans? And why does he look so familiar?

I stood, as the crowd gasped at the result, and pointed, with my left arm, toward the judges and exclaimed:

“I will have my revenge, stranger. Oh, yes. I will have my revenge!”

The stranger stared at me saying nothing as I stalked from the stage to cries from Amanda Holden to come back as she had “never experienced an orgasm like that before” and must have one again. I stopped, looked at the Holden, removed the clone from my left arm and threw it to the ground.

“There,” I said, “that will do the trick for you Holden as it is probably just the right size to fill the gaping void that is your vadge” and continued my exit.

I knew, as I stalked along the road and away from the Britain’s Got Talent studio, that my fleeting experimentation with cloning was over. Now all my energies and superior genius brain would be put to use finding out who this mysterious, competition ruining, stranger was and ultimately, to find a way to destroy him.


Here ends The Clone Saga. A tale of unusually creative scientific breakthroughs and abominable sexual conquest.

A tale possibly best forgotten…

…as most tales are.

In the end.



The Clone Saga – Tears of a Clone

May 2010:

Fuck yeah!

Today was the day. Today that clone was getting what was coming to it…

Just hours after the medical intervention that separated us (see last instalment), probably saving my life, following the “indiscretion” I resolved to put right that which I should have many years before.

I decided that I had to bring an end to the clone…an end to the abomination created solely to prevent me spending money on overly expensive photo manipulation software.

Photoshop - Use this if you don't have the smarts to make your own clone

Yes, at the time of creation of the clone, I viewed it as a wonder. A breakthrough of scientific barriers to equate to that of Hawking or Schrödinger. Alas, now, as I think on past events involving the doppelgänger, I can see that I should have ended its pitiful life as soon as I had completed that first photograph (see “The Clone Saga – Beginnings“).

Stephen Hawking. A genius but, as you can see in this photo, a bit of a square.

Now, however, was a time for action. All thoughts of “should have done” and “would have done” were cast from my mind and I prepared myself for the final battle.

I called to the duplicate, asking it to come up to my bedroom. I hoped that if I indicated I wanted more…I shudder now just thinking of it… more “contact“, then I would gain the advantage of surprise and could probably bring the messy business of murder to a relatively speedy conclusion but it was not to be.

Erwin Schrödinger. The man who invented the Zombie Cat.

My well conceived plan turned to mush as my overachieving genius brain pushed in to ponder the question:

“If I murder my clone am I committing suicide?”

The question drew my attention away from the slowly opening bedroom door and the clone, making a sultry entrance into the room.

The clone stopped, dead in its tracks, as it saw me crouched behind the now open door, staring wide eyed into space as I wrestled with the answer to what I considered at the time to be the ultimate question.

Without warning the clone pounced on me. At first I thought it was making the first move in an overtly aggressive sexual adventure but the muscular fingers closing around my neck shook me fully from my considerings and spurred me into action. The endgame was in motion.

Finger biceps. Why not?

We grappled and wrestled, wrangled and wangled until the copy bundled me to the ground and reached out for the two swords, that I had planned to use to end its life, I had left behind the bedroom door.

I remained still as he approached, blades in hand and murder (or possibly suicide) in his eye.

Malclone prepared to strike. I watched the two blades arc down towards me…

…and that’s when I pulled a Ryback!

Grabbing the pommel of the sword in the doppelgängers left hand I put just enough pressure on to force the blade to the side effectively parrying the killing blow from the cutlass in his right hand. At the same time I twisted his left wrist and, while rising form the floor, completed the Ryback transferring the sabre into my own hands.

The clashing of blades upon my intial blocking move caused the clone to recoil, pulling back the remaining sword in an upward arc exposing his torso to attack.

I thrust and the blade slid home, up and under the rib cage, perforating the diaphragm and plunging directly into his heart.

In deep. But not yet deep enough!

The clone spasmed, sword falling to the ground and, after mere moments, passed into death.

I withdrew the blade and watched as the body of the clone collapsed to the ground.

I breathed a sigh of relief and exhaustion. I stared at the corpse for a few moments and exhaled again.

The battle was over, let the clean up commence….





[Stay tuned all this week for the body disposing conclusion: “The Clone Saga – They Think It’s All Over”]

The Clone Saga – Why Can’t I Quit You?

May 2010.

Here the story takes a turn for the better and then veers off at a tangent heading towards a horrible conclusion via a really nasty (and probably unnecessary) act of self abuse.

My animosity for the clone lessened and I started to view him as more than just a “thing”. I could see the value in having him still living, breathing, that sort of thing. That value was in T-shirts. Free T-shirts to be precise. was running a competition for their customers to create an advert in which to showcase any Darkbunnytees that they had bought. The format was fairly simple:

“Rules are simple – Take a photo of you (or a friend, or more than one friend depending on how many t-shirts you own) In a movie-themed setting. This could be anything at all. A recreation of one of your favourite movie scenes. Inside a cinema with a bunch of your mates, whatever you like.”

I already had an idea in mind for the competition before my incident with the clone in the bathroom (see last instalment of The Clone Saga) but it required two people and, to be honest, I don’t have that many friends that I could ask one to help me. So the clone appearing when it did was serendipitous indeed!

I sat it down on the couch in the livingroom and told it “I need you to be in another one of my photos” to which he responded not.

I slapped it in the face 3 times.


I got more forceful “You will assist me with my photograph”, I waited, hand poised to slap again. He nodded his agreement, slowly.

I slapped it in the face again. Felt great.

Suitably subdued and ready to shoot, I prepared the clone and set up the rest of the shot. It was to be a “re-enactment” of the Idol lifting scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark with me as Indy (naturally) and the clone in the background as Satipo, the back stabbing guide that gets his comeuppance via some nasty spikes.

I took the shot.

Raiders of the Lost Tee - Competition submission. Kicks ass, doesn't it? A sure fire winner!

It looked good. I was pleased. It needed a bit of work on the computer before it was ready but the shot was good.

I was so pleased with the effort I thanked the clone. Even bade it sit and slapped the kettle on for us to have a coffee each.

Coffee in hand I got down to work tweaking the image for submission. After about 10 minutes I had completely forgot the clone was sitting there, watching me.

I finished up the photo and sent it in to be judged, knowing full well I already had it in the bag.

I closed the lid of the laptop and drained my coffee. Then I looked around at the clone. He was still watching me, his coffee untouched. It just sat there, staring. I stared back, my anger and animosity towards it creeping back in.

Suddenly, his eyes softened, his expression changed from that of lethargic hatred to one more akin to apathetic longing.

It was strange. All those years of treating it like a minion not fit to lick the dirt from my boots and now, now I looked at it with awe, with adoration.

Those eyes, that slack jaw.

The godlike musculature, those blowjob lips*!

*The Lips of Heaven(c)

He was beautiful.

He was…me!**

I stood, held out my hand and waited for about 5 minutes before I realised that my sexy clone was a moron. I grabbed his hand and dragged him to the bedroom.

Yes. The bedroom.

I am not going to sully the act that took place within my bedroom in those next three minutes. An act of love, pure and true. An act that did not require the full and willing participation of both parties. A physically demanding act of ultimate self-love.

No, I shall not sully it by describing it in minute detail.

Image forbidden by order of the missus X/

Once was not enough, however, and, as is the want of men, the second time got kinky. I wanted to be deep, deep inside and I got what I wanted. I always do.

In deep. Far, far to deep.

For the next week we were almost inseparable…until, finally, I was able to be extracted from the clone at the casualty ward.

That week stuck inside the clone made it love me all the more but I, I had been changed. I had been traumatised by the event and, indeed, the depth of my own personal depravity.

I couldn’t look at clone. I couldn’t even look at my own reflection in the mirror. I was disgusted by myself and the clone. It took me only a couple of hours of being free from physical contact with it before I realised that the clone, not I, was the depraved one.

The clone, not I, was the one who seduced me.

The clone. The fucking sexy clone.

I steeled myself and confronted the clone for our final battle…



**with the exception of the slack jawed gape.

[to be concluded in The Clone Saga – Tears of a Clone]

The Clone Saga: Rage-ahol!

May, 2010.

5 Years Later.

What a difference 5 years makes. Would have thought that in that time I’d have quit my band, failed to get promotion and developed a massive belly? Good job I have a sense of humour.

I was in the bathroom, getting ready to brush my teeth. Had a dentist appointment scheduled 15 minutes later and, y’know, it’s just rude not to brush ’em before you go.

Anyway, for the last 2 months I had heard this scrabbling behind the walls and, well, I couldn’t quite place it. The missus said it was just the cat in the eaves and I took her word for it. I hadn’t considered it to be the clone because, 2 years before I had noticed he had disappeared.

Now, you might wonder why I didn’t bother to investigate his disappearance especially since, with him essentially being me, he could possibly end up getting me into bother out in the world. I mean, “I warn’t me, guv. T’wer me clone what did the deed” doesn’t really hold water as an excuse/alibi/whatever.

The real reason I never bothered to track him was just because I forgot. I was getting prepared to go on a night hunt, I had my Death Bag all ready to go and everything but we had come into a bit of money and the missus wanted a little “just the two of us” holiday. So my murderous hunt plan went out the window. When I got back from hols I was too knackered what with all the sex my and the missus had 😉

Oh, alright, we didn’t have all that much sex, maybe once or twice 😐

Ok, ok. I masturbated…profusely. I’m married, what else am I going to do? 😦

So, I forgot. But it turned out I would have wasted a perfectly well stocked Death Bag in the hunt as the bugger hadn’t escaped. He’d merely pulled a Dufresne, matching all except the poster and the actual escape. Instead he crawled through 500 yards of shit-smelling foulness I can’t even imagine and somehow ended up behind the mirror in the bathroom.

Shit swallow

Andy Dufrense. Y'know how when you go swimming you swallow a lot of water....

I mean what sort of moron manages that? He may have my awesome sexy looks but he don’t got no brians likes a mine own!

So, I’m standing there, checking my sexy ass out in the mirror, getting ready to brush my teeth for the first time in a month (due to the dentist appointment) and, fuck me, if that bastard clone doesn’t pop up in the mirror (mirror image an’ all) and make a grab for my throat.

Copious amounts of digging and shit crawling had resulted in Malclone developing decidedly short shoulders. Stupid clone.

Quick to act, as per my ninja training, I pulled a Ryeback, and twisted that shit around on him, forcing him to strangle himself with his own hand (I am that good).

Casey Ryback. Will kick your arse, especially if you draw attention to his fucked up face. Ha ha ha, check it out (don't kill me Mr. Seagull)

I was going to end it, right there and then. Kind of what I should’ve done after the I took that first photo. But, something in his eyes said “No!”.

It was a talking woodlouse. Somehow it got trapped under Malclones eyelid. It’s sweet words stayed my hand and I dragged the clone through. I decided, then and there, to keep him alive as I had another photograph to take. One that would win me my fortune and get my plans for world domination back on track.

A competition to advertise Dark Bunny Tees*…





[Malc and Malclone will return in “The Clone Saga – Why Can’t I Quit You?” – coming soon]