Tag Archives: photography

The White Stuff

The white stuff.

Bet your thinking “another post about clone sex/auto-fellatio/great arcing ropes of jism/etc” aren’t you?

Ah, memories!

Well, I hate to disappoint but, just for a change, I’m talking about the other white stuff…

That’s right cocai- No, not fucking cocaine. Who said that?

Snow, I’m talking about snow. Good old-fashioned glistening, wet and white snow (does sound sexy when I put it like that doesn’t it?), and what a bunch of it we’ve had.

It’s crazy though. I’m sure I’m not the only sad case blogging about it, but what the fuck is up with the council? Fucking, once a fucking year it’s like this..if that! Once a fucking year the place comes to a standstill and folk hit the panic button.*

We’ve had a healthy dose of snow over the last few days but cars are still driving, the sun is still rising (allegedly) but folks just can’t handle it. A few towns over from me they’ve run out of milk and bread.

The entire town!

No milk!

No bread!

“It’s the apocalypse!” Fucking morons – and that’s offensive to morons**

Mushroom cloud

A mushroom snow cloud. Signalling the End of Days (if you live in Cowdenbeath)

Anyway, enough bitching. This post is about photos.

SNOW! Good God y’all. What’s it any good for? Going fucking sledging!

Yes, sledging. Awesome fun. You are never too old, unless your 90 (and dying painfully of hypothermia, scrabbling around on all fours, like a dog, looking for a hole to crawl into and expire).

Took the boys down the park on the first day of the snow (Sunday the 28th November for my bit of the world) for an epic sledging adventure.

As expected though, the snow was threadbare like a badly laid carpet covered in the BFG’s dandruff.

What's left of his hair is supposed to be black. Fuckin' manky all that dandruff. Have a wash you big bastard.

Still, the boys had a laugh and I took a dose of photos.

What a Face!

"To winter's chilly touch doth golden autumn yield"

Surfin' the Snow

We only lasted about an hour as it was baltic and the boys were a bit too wet to be hanging about in the freezing cold.

As I was wrangling them up Charlie says to me

“Dad, can I go through your legs?”

“Aye, sure son.”

“Cool.” he says with a mischievous little laugh that I took for excitement more than anything else.

So up the skate ramp he goes (for that, dear friends, is the death trap we were using to get the most speed and exhilaration – as I said before:  carpet/dandruff/BFG/threadbare) and gets ready. I, meanwhile, pass the camera to Jamie’s pal and tell him to take a photo of Charlie motoring on through between my open legs in his sled.

Moments later he is building to warp speed, down the ramp, heading straight for me and the gap between my legs.



Time seems to slow down as the sled and Charlie, giggling like a schoolgirl, hurtle towards me. I prepare myself to guide him through so that no injury occurs. The nose of his sled crosses the threshold betwixt my stems of ambulation and then…

CRUNCH! A tiny fist. right in the fucking bullets!

Right in the Bullets

Little fucker!

Telling you I’d have ripped him a new one if I hadn’t been laugh-weeping at his audacity and forward planning.

Nicely played, son. Nicely played.


*Well all apart from the one guy I saw out cleaning the snow of his and his neighbours (plural) cars at 07:50 this morning. He was dressed for it wearing a woollen tammy on his head along with a brown cosy looking dressing gown, green wellies and pink marigolds. Not a fucking joke either – wish I had had my camera with me.

**I wanted to use the word retard here but I felt that that was too…too…retro. Yes, too retro.


Photos by the Boy

Just posted a couple of photos to flickr.

Here is original jpg from the panorama I took of my LSD bathroom:

Magic Eye Wallpaper (Pano)

Arrrgh, my eyes!

Crazy fucked up that is.

But these two Lego Star Wars numbers were taken by the wee boy (though I did the processing).

He was on about taking some photos for ages and then went and got the DSLR. He wouldn’t let me set up a stage though so took the photos while playing with the toys. Still, they look not bad at all.


I chopped 'is little fackin' 'ead orf


No, no, no, no! How do I turn this thing off?!?!

No, no, no! How do I turn this thing off?!?!
First TK422, then those poor droids and now...now...Woody! Nooooooooo!

Nice to encourage them and get them into photography (as long as he doesn’t start to outshine me!)


Slight Return

Well, it’s been a while since I was last here. Don’t know why really, just busy with other things. Other things, I may add, which have been quite mundane – don’t think I’ve got a single funny story!

Or do I…….?

Nope, I don’t.

I suppose I could reveal some snippets of information in bullet point kind of form, in order to get me back into the swing of writing shit down on this ‘ere blog.

Let me see.

1. I had a vasectomy towards the end of August!

Got to tell you it’s the easiest thing in the world. The biggest problem came when the surgeon, in a huff, had to phone 4 or 5 other nurses on their days off to come in and help manoeuvre my massive cock out of the way so he could work. I made a big deal of apologising but insisted that there was a danger of death by fox if I didn’t bring him along.

Other than that, it was a fucking breeze.

I even got to watch the operation. He cut a little hole in my nutsack and pulled through the Vas Deferns tube. With a flick of his wrist he sliced a bit of tube out with his scalpel. Easy-peasy. The bit he cut out looked a bit like the just cooked Cheesy Pasta (before you add the powdered sauce mix)- I forgot to ask to keep it.

Cheesey Pasta

A box filled with the discarded snippets of Vas Deferns of a million men. All for 79p with cheesey sauce powder thrown in for free.

The only other interesting bit about the operation is getting told to spunk in a cup after 16 weeks and the murder of 24 salvos of innocent babies. I waited just 11 hours to “batter” off the first salvo (really like that term: salvo. It’s got a real ring to it).

Little bruising, no pain, a little discomfort in bending down for about 4 days and that’s fucking it. Like i said, easiest thing I’ve ever done – you “blokes” who are afraid or say it’s painful…yer all fuckin’ pussies.


Take your pick you so called

Actually, that’s another thing – why call it the “snip” when I clearly saw the surgeon perform a “slicing” move? I decree that heretoforthwiththereafter that the common name for a vasectomy shall be “The Slice”.

What else?

Oh, yeah.

2. Turned my Clone Saga epic into a little book (buy here if interested).

The cover of the most awesome book ever printed.

and a view of the inside of the most awesome book ever printed.

As Steve Jobs would say “It’s pretty cool”.

3. Received training in Disaster Victim Identification (DVI).

Apparently high fiving a fragmented corpse is a no-no and they suggest that I cease doing the same with “normal” corpses. Whut-eva.

Me giving a cadaver a high five.
(not really you crazy bastards, I'd get the sack publishing such a photo)


4. I made a new bit of art.

This is actually an early version - couldn

Not my usual style but I likes it a lot. Even use it as my iPhone wallpaper. It’s called “Impelial Japonhees Navy” – yes, yes I know “casually racist” but since there is no IJN anymore I think I can get away with it.

I made it after making this picture of Isoroku Yamamoto:

Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto - strong with the Force is he.

to use as my avatar on twitter after I had been overcome by the Force Ghost of the man. He’s since left my mortal coil and I am back to {Banzaaaiiii!!} normal.*

Think that’s about it, really. Pretty poor couple of weeks, eh?

I have an input to give to a bunch of pro & amateur photographers in November so I am going to make an effort to go out and do more photo stuff myself. I will, of course, reflect these ventures in this ‘ere blog. Probably.

Now, I’m off to complete salvo #32 towards eventual sterility. I know it’s only 24 that are needed but I like the practice.


One, more thing (also something Steve Jobs would say). My laptop has died. It’s been sputtering along on it’s last legs for about a year and a half. I’ve had to open it up on a few occasions and replaced dead parts with bits scavenged from other machines (I’m actually shocked it worked at all after that) but now it is finally dead.

This makes me very sad. Very sad indeed. Specially since I have not the funds to buy a new one. So, any updates to my blog will come from my iPhone or the wifes netbook. However, should you wish to assist with funds to replace my dead laptop with a new MacBook Pro (just the 13″ screen will do) please contact me via the comments box and I’ll get back to you with details on where to send your cheque. Thanks.


*Don’t ask, if you don’t follow me in twitter then you missed all the fun.

Commence Commerce

Believe it or not I actually started this blog in order to punt photos or other things that I have made. Not to make my fortune you understand but if folks are willing part with their money for my stuff then gimmie, gimmie, gimmie.

So, I decided on Redbubble.com. There were a few choice but I thought that one looked the best. Currently it’s pay for the print/t-shirt/etc as priced by Redbubble with me getting a very small amount from the sale. I could have pumped up my profits to 50% of sale but that just makes things far too expensive and it’s like you are paying for it twice so I knocked it right down (and some things will probably have no profit on them – dependant on content).

Anyway, to finish this small, hardly funny, post I shall provide the link to my portion of Redbubble.


Not much on it at the moment, just a few t-shirt designs, I’ll add more as I view them worthy of selling.



“You Can Go About Your Business…Move Along”

In addition to last nights rant on Star Wars branded lego here is a film still style photo of Luke, Old Ben Kenobi, C3P0 and R2-D2 attempting to befuddle a Sandtrooper and his little flying camera friend.

Think I'd like to see a gangsta reboot of the Star Wars saga:
"Wassup, ma Nigga? Na, man, these ain't no droids da muthafuckin Empire be axing bout!"
"Am about a bust a cap in yo weak-ass mind wit tricked out Jedi powers, fool" *

Info for geeks:

Nikon D40.
1/6 second
Little process in Photoshop to make the grainy film look.


*casual racism aside I think a gangsta parody, shot scene-for-scene might be quite humorous.

Lego! No, Seriously. Let Go, I’m Not Forking Out That Much!

Birthday day!

The wee lad (previously seen riding his bike unaided for the first time) turned 7 today and chief among his “wants” and “gimmies” was Star Wars Lego sets.

Over a period of approximately 2/3 months I have successfully turned my boy into a Star Wars geek. Through exposure to Lego Star Wars on the Wii (the story mode of which he completed by himself) and the 6 films he’s become a firm fan. So much so that at any opportunity to watch a film it’s a Star Wars flick. Return is his favourite – I think he may have watched that one more times than I have!

Also introduced him to Lord of the Rings films, all three over the course of one weekend. Then later it was new Trek and quickly thereafter Terminator: Salivation. Before anyone starts, I can’t show him Terminator as it’s a bit much for a 6, I mean, 7 year-old and I don’t currently have a copy of Terminator 2: Judgement Day. As for number 3… “talk to the hand”

"I need your clothes, your boots, and you motorzykle" " Get to the choppaa!" "Let off some steam, Bennett!" I could go on...

Trying my best to get him on the geek side of the Force, just like his old man, and it seems to be working.

The eldest on the other hand, he’s too cool for school. I despair in my attempts to geekify him. Can only expose him to movies once as after he has seen them once he states he has no interest in viewing them again at a later date (though I suspect he’ll have his own wee selections of exceptions).

Took him to see Scott Pilgrim… and, though he liked it, I could tell there wasn’t the geekgasm that most of the films audience had. Still, at least is he’s “too cool for school” it means he’s not a knob and that, people, is a result for me.

But, like a Chlorophobic Green Keeper, I digress*.

Star Wars lego was the point of this post.

So, the wee boy wants what he wants and in particular, this year for his birthday, he wanted Emperor Palpatine’s Shuttle. Now, we were not going to get it for him due to having bought him other stuff but since he got a bunch of money he has bought it himself for £60.


Don’t get me wrong – it’s a very nice piece of kit (though as of this post, building has not commenced) with cool little minifigures, But £60. Seems as though tacking Star Wars on the box gives the price a good hike. I guess thats the way of it and to be fair, Lego stuff gets a fair old use in my house.

When we got back from the shops with the set I became intrigued about the price hike of other branded lego and fired up the Google.

I thought £60 was bad but there are much bigger and much more expensive kits out there – £280 for lego Death Star! Fuckin’ peach of a toy with loads of character minifigures but at a premium.

That all made sense, big sets, lots of bricks and minifigures…fair do’s. I suppose.

But then I got into searching for loose minifigures.

You know like maybe buying in a good few Stormtroopers or something. Maybe to do something like this:

"Infiltration" by Chris McViegh (click the photo to see this and his other work)

To be honest, I wasn’t that bothered by the high prices of the sets. Hours of fun, longevitiy in lifespan of product, it’s fucking Star Wars! etc. When I saw the price of some of these fucking loose minifigures, however, I was appalled.

Not so much at the audacity of the sellers but at the brainlessness of the folk who would buy the things.

I mean, look at this…

Jango Fett - £99.95! Doesn't even have a fucking visor in his helmet!

not even bagged mind, 2nd hand from a lego set that you could buy for £85 and it’s on “sale” for £99.95…on it’s own. A 4cm plastic figure, not boxed (so any “mint condition” tag is ropey at best) for about £15 more than that very same figure in a full lego set that you can build up and is boxed so if you don’t open it it stays “mint” forever.

Is it just me that doesn’t see how folk can justify buying the single figure over the full kit?

Same with Boba Fett (I’m sure I saw one advertised at $1000 but couldn’t find it again):

Boba Fett. Who'd have thought it'd cost so much to aquire a bounty hunter? Wonder what the minifigure of "Dog" goes for?

Loose minifigure at £89.95 is about £11 more expensive than the full lego set with the character in it.

I think what gets me about it is this, this is where Star Wars geeks/fanboys get a bad name. You know what I mean, the sad types that sit in there homes with shelves upon shelves of unopened toys, models, etc. Saving up any spare cash from their PC helpline jobs to buy another toy etc that wont be used for the reason it was created, wont be played with…

Do I have to get all Toy Story 3 up in here? Well, do I?

On the other hand, maybe I’m being too precious with the term geek. Maybe I just want to keep the term, as it applies to me, on the cool side of the social divide when, in all likelihood, I am probably just deceiving myself and possibly setting up the wee lad for ritual humiliation regarding love of Star Wars later in his life.

Maybe the eldest has the right idea and it’s time I got “too cool for school” aswell.

Well, if that be the decision I think I’ll start by buying this:

Check that badboy out. If I wore this no-one would fuck with me. No-one!

Now that fucker is awesome, there is no one cooler than the Fett and having a lego Boba Fett outfit would make me the coolest dude in the hood.

Er, I’ve run out of things to say on this topic, I feel like this is the moment in the post where the AT-AT Walker, in a comedy call back to a previous Family Guy episode, falls over and hurts its knee, grabbing at the injury to numb the pain and saying “Aaah” multiple times and lasting way longer than is funny but yet you still laugh…

(and what the fuck is up with that video title? “Robot Camel”??)



Oh, I almost forgot. The wee lad had a few friends round after his party on Sunday. One of them was talking about his forthcoming party, a fancy dress effort. He stated how he had a full Stormtrooper outfit to wear and I went…wait for it…

“Aren’t you a little short for a Storm Trooper?”

Not one iota of recognition from the boy or his mum or my missus. Not one.

I felt wholly unsatisfied at that moment and, in the end, had to high five myself!



*apologies, that just may have been too obtuse a simile but it did make me snigger a bit – leave a comment if you need me to elaborate.

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.