The Holy Trinity

Better than God. Three Gods.



You heard me, boys and girls, today sees the ninth and a halfth bicentennial celebration of the birth of Jesus Chris, Our Lord. Or his "nineteenth birthday", as some might say. And what better way to commemorate it than write a pointless blog post that no-one will read? Well, I could get him a present maybe... Send him a card or whatever. But that has been done before, and this (so far) hasn't. However I will expect one in just over a month ladies. So on with the show!

Christopher Jayne Arnold Dunne was born on the 31st of May, 198something. I can't be bothered with the maths. I told you it was 19 years ago, you work it out if you care so bloody much you jerk. Left in a basket in the Forest Of Mount Kayagonogo with nothing but a guitar and a rusk, Chris's ascension to modern-day hero is nothing short of spectacular. He started by bartering with the natives, trading his rusk for a spear before spearing the poor people to death and taking back the rusk. But it's ok, the natives were fans of the work of Martin Lawrence.

Christopher was slow to pick up the idiosynchratic language of the Kayagonogian people and so learnt to communicate using his guitarial acumen. The Grand High Priest of a nearby tribe heard a sound like no other when journeying through the forest, and found a now infant Chris with a head of golden black curls in a Clash t-shirt he had found, strumming away to himself. Against the young man's will, the Priest adopted Chris and took him to his Grand High Palace which floated in the sky. Here he taught the young Chris humility, graciousness, respect and a love for anything edible. Chris had finally found a true home. But it wasn't all rock music and internet porn from here on in, oh no sir. Disaster was hiding around a nearby post office. And it is here that I hand the story over to Matthew, as he is funnier and I am bored and about to go out...

Well well well. Chris. I first met Chris when I was hanging from a precipice in the mountains. He came strolling by, pushing through the snow in his t-shirt and shorts, and when he saw me he called out 'Alright mate?' I replied that I was not alright, and was in fact clinging to my life by a single finger. And so Chris stamped on said finger and sent me plummeting to my death on the jagged rocks thousands of feet below.

No wait that's not right. I first met Chris when we both woke up in a grimy abandoned public bathroom. We quickly found we were both chained to pipes by our ankles. Luckily I had my gun, so I shot Chris in the face and was able to eat his body in order to survive until the grizzled police chief found me and set me free.

Hang on. No. Oh yes I remember now. I first met Chris when I set him on fire and pushed him into moving traffic. Wait, I'm supposed to carry on the story. SHIT. Ok yes Chris was living in the floating palace, having killed the radio star behind a post office by throwing a video at his head. Then one day he found a magic lamp. He rubbed it, like he rubbed most other things (such as his penis) and a genie came out. The genie granted him three wishes, but Chris had a magic talisman that allowed him to have unlimited wishes. So he wishes to live forever and to be able to turn into animals and to have a big scary castle and all sorts of stuff.

Anyway this jerk duck stole the lamp so Chris had to get it back. Then a load of stuff happened that I won't go into and basically it all ended with Chris falling out of a huge castle floating high above the Earth. Also the genie got set free and had an annoying voice and was ugly and sucked ass. Luckily Chris landed on a gigantic pair of breasts.

Yes, he had landed in the magic land of the Giant Women, which was where the giant women lived. They were like normal women except, you know, giant. Chris quickly seduced the women and they taught him everything he knows today about women. Here is a list of the things Chris knows about women:
  • They weigh four hundred tonnes.

  • They are as tall as six Jeeps.

  • You can climb up inside them and they love it.

  • Their hair can be made into ropes for restraining giant panthers.

  • Their skin is as rough as tree bark.

  • All women are evil.

  • They like a man who knows how to scoop out earwax with his fists.

One day the women tired of Chris and his incessant guitar playing when they were trying to watch The Godfather, so they gave him a lot of money and sent him to Brunel University. And the rest is history, by which I mean it's getting late and I'm out of ideas.

Happy Birthday Chris.


Musicographical Beatomatic

Image Hosted by ImageShack.usMusic has the power to change the world. Every once in a while, an album comes along that changes everything, for better or for worse. Revolver. Never Mind The Bollocks. Doolittle. Nevermind. Wingspan: The Best of Paul McCartney & Wings. Today sees the release of another world-changer. Today sees the release of Musicographical Beatomatic.

Over one month in the making, Musicographical Beatomatic promises to do for music what wheels did for cars. What cheese did for cheese sandwiches. What bears did for bear fighting. You are about to download the greatest EP in the history of the world. I know you are, because it is destiny. Nobody can avoid the powerful pull. You will download it, and it will change your life.

Use this links to download the best things you will ever have on your computer. (Right click, save as)

The songs on this album are:
1. Josh You Are (with Mr. Christopher Dunne)
2. Mean Ol' Chris
3. Meditation Song
4. Robert Stamper
5. Robert Stamper (Passion Mix)
and if you like you can read the lyrics to them here. Then I guess you could learn to sing along, although obviously you could never match my own incredible vocal displays.

If you are not downloading the EP right now, I suggest you scroll back up a bit and start the download right away because you are wasting valuable 'listening to Matt's fantastic songs' time. In fact I don't even know why I'm writing so much here. Well there you go, I guess I'm providing good value if nothing else. I'm watching CSI: Miami while I'm writing this so I'm not really giving it my full attention. Horatio certainly knows how to ask questions about stuff and then solve a murder. Can you think of any more TV shows that feature a person with ginger hair as the hero? I certainly cannot.

Image Hosted by ImageShack.usHOLY CRAP they're having a cool boat chase! They've got one of those fucking boats with the huge fan on the back and they're chasing a man all over the place! FUCKING SHOOT HIM HORATIO! This is awesome. I would love one of those cool fan-boats. There's a helicopter too, it's rotor-city. Whoa there's a big fire or something, this is crazy. LOOK OUT FOR THE FIRE! He's running away! Oh wait the fire is in the way, HAHAHAHA! "There's nowhere to go, put that weapon down right now!" says Horatio. This is fantastic. OH MY LORD he ran into the fire! No way is he going to make it out of there alive. What a stupid thing to do. They never go after clever people on this show. Yep, he died in the fire. That's not even a nice way to go, why not just shoot yourself? Well that was really exciting but I guess it had nothing to do with Musicographical Beatomatic. Hopefully by now you can go and listen to it and I won't have to waste time like this anymore.

OK so please download the music if you haven't already and also blah blah blah thanks a lot. All of the songs are inspired by people I have met at university, so if you want to pretend you know people then maybe this is a good thing to download.


How To Be Popular Part 4

Hey gang, it’s me again with some more top tips on Popularity. Before we go any further though, I’m afraid as is always the way in life, just as you get all excited and hopeful I have some Soul destroying news. My How to be Popular series has been cancelled. Now I won’t go into details but let’s just say some of my views were seen as too controversial and subversive. CONTROVERSIAL AND SUBVERSIVE!? I’M NOT RAPING KITTENS OR SETTING FIRE TO THE POPE AM I!
Lord knows I want to when this sort of shit happens. Last time I got that angry was when Alison said she didn’t want to be with me anymore. Luckily I changed her mind and just as soon as she gets back from her round the world cruise, we’ll be married. Oh it’ll be such a beautiful ceremony, but you don’t care about that! Anyway I’m going to have to fit the rest of my vast social knowledge into one post. I am going to cover the most crucial social areas, including politics and dancing and every so often throw in a super fun buzzword alert! What on earth is that you say? It sounds genius! Well I’m afraid you’ll have to wait and see, you’ll enjoy it more for waiting and there’s a great little time release joke for you there! Genius. HahahaHAHAha I did it again, I can’t stop it. (Sorry, but you’ll get it soon)


Now politics is often thought of as a deeply boring subject, but this couldn’t be further from the truth. Politics has an effect on all our lives and as such is akin to Gravity. You can’t go anywhere without Politics dragging you down, keeping you in place and stopping you flying free. Yes, this is a great analogy. Politics is as old as time itself and is the reason women’s breasts stretch as they get older.
It is a common practise for the speaker of the House of Commons to check if a suspiciously intelligent women is in fact a man in drag by pulling on her breasts. Usually in this case the intelligent ‘woman’ is exposed as an average man, but every so often a real woman repeats something clever off the telly and all hell breaks loose!
But of course it’s not all fun and games, there are some downsides to politics. The most notable of which being Political Correctness. Now in the past it was perfectly acceptable for us to put inferior cultures in their place by calling them ‘slitty eyed’, ‘Barbarian’ or ‘French’. However French people began to resent these labels, saying it depicted a totally one-sided view of France. They listed great thing after great thing to come out of france: wine, champagne, Jean Reno, rosé. Dazzled by this insurmountable list, the weak British politicians said “Oh my days, wow, ok we better had leave these people alone, and just so this never happens again we’ll be nice to everyone”.
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O.K. ‘being nice to everyone’, that sounds alright you think, but wait a sec, what about serial murdering rapists? Do we really want to call them ‘morally challenged, act-first think-later ragamuffins’? No of course we don’t, this would just encourage them to rape and kill, which is why political correctness is untenable, you see?
No? Well to summarise: Political correctness is responsible for almost all rape and killing that has occurred in recent history, bar those committed by the French.

Buzzword Alert!

You should say genius as often as possible but taking care to say it only where it is completely wrong. For example “this porn is genius”, “I am genius” and if you are a cool dark person like me “death is genius”.


The Chris P
Once upon a time in a land not so far away, there was a noble Prince by the name of Chris P. He was loved throughout the land by everyone but his heartless older brother. The evil prince was destined for the throne, but he was so unloved and Chris P so beloved of the people that the king agreed that Chris P would be King.
But one terrible day, the elder prince swapped Chris P’s usual ‘Diet Coke’ for a pint of Guinness. Chris P’s one weakness was alcohol and the moment he supped the putrid concoction, the incredible bitterness and high alcohol content dissolved his liver and throat. Without these vital body parts Chris P could no longer talk or eat, vital functions in the ‘posh dinner’ oriented world of Royalty. He was locked in a cupboard and the evil young prince’s position was safe once more.
However before this terrible event Chris P did much for the culture of the world, mainly in the field of dance:

Chris P

The sprinkler
Err… everyone loves sprinklers so why not dance like one?
No I’m not sure about the origin of this one but it looks damn cool and is a bona fide pussy magnet.
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The Capes
Ah, Capes. A modern day Chris P. A spark of hope for the future. Some say not as dancingly talented as Chris P but what he lacks in this field he more than makes up for in inventing words. Yes, I boked a good lot of shalk into the Roro Huttee last Huzzle. LOL!!!

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Now I’m going to tell you a little story about how not to do it. There’s this great guy I know called Chris (not Chris P, but yet another Chris), he has a weird number of similarities to me. Some people say he is like an alternate personality of mine LOL!
His problem is that despite all my expert advice, he doesn’t always believe in himself and can be pretty withdrawn. Except when he is drunk when the opposite applies. In this case he is frankly a nob, and I will let the pictures do the rest of the talking.

Other dances of interest

The mark. Dedicated to the unique author of Tiny Tickle Unradio

Screwing the light bulb. Pure unadulterated genius

The floppy armed pelvic thrust
. Probably the greatest dance of all time.

This post is dedicated to the memory of Chris P


Drink Or No Drink!

I was sitting in ‘Spoons a couple of weeks ago with a couple of non-Trinity related buddys (sorry to break it to you like this guys), and I was thinking about Deal Or No Deal as per usual. Then, surrounded by plethora of reasonably priced alcoholic beverages, I was struck by an idea like a clichéd phrase – What if Deal Or No Deal could be made… better? Now hold up Dre, put down your pitchforks and listen to me, for this is no sacrilegious cacophony. I wondered about the possibilities of breeding DOND with said alcoholic refreshments to create the ultimate delicious televisual drinking game experience… And it has been achieved.

For practical circumstances, the game was primarily designed for three people. As you should well be aware, the show consists of 22 contestants with numbered boxes, one of whom is selected at random to be the shows protagonist. Therefore there are 21 other boxes available for that player from which to choose. 21 is perfectly dividable by 3. Thus, each person takes 7 boxes as their own. For the sake of ease, let’s say the shows protagonist has box 22. This means that one person takes boxes 1 – 7, another takes boxes 8 – 14, and the last takes boxes 15 – 21. If you have the time to kill, or the numbers aren’t so easily dividable, perhaps you could put the numbers in a hat and draw out 7 each, introducing a ‘Bingo’ element to proceedings. Whatever, really. Now, here’s where the game starts…

The protagonist chooses a box, your box let’s say. It’s opened. If it’s a red that means you take a prolonged sip of your drink of choice. We said three fingers worth. If it’s a blue then it’s lucky for you, and your compadres are forced to drink, but only two fingers worth each. This continues until your vision blurs and, more importantly, the protagonist finally deals. Here’s the ingenious part – then the conditions take a 180 degree twist, and a blue number means you drink, and red sentences your co-players, as Noel hopes to prove it was the ‘RIGHT DEAL AT THE RIGHT TIME’©. All this game needed now was a delightfully simple yet brilliantly brilliant name, which played on both the nature of the game and the T.V show of which it was spawned. Thanks, Matthew.

Now being the hardcore extreme Man-men that we are, we felt that the mixed vodka we were using for the rounds could be in some way supplemented by more alcohol, plus we wanted a way to fit a favourite of Holy Trinity Towers into the game in the delicious appley form of Mickey Finn’s. Hence, we drew up a list of certain DOND nuances which, if rear their head during the game, cause a waterfall of shots to be taken by each player. They are as follows:
  • The banker asks to speak to the player

  • Somebody declines to comment when asked for advice

  • Noel says it's "the right/wrong deal at the right/wrong time"

  • Somebody claims to "know" that their box contains a low number and turns out to be completely wrong

  • Somebody says "it's ok" when it isn't "ok" at all

  • The banker chuckles

  • The hotel is mentioned

  • A speed round is played

  • A speed round is brought to a halt by a really crap box

  • The contestant loses track of their own progress

  • The seal on the box is broken prior to a break

  • Noel gets excited and claims a particular round is either the best or worst in the history of the game

  • Noel pretends the offer is a bad one, before walking to the camera and winking or whispering “watch his/her face!” and revealing a fantastic offer.

So there you have it, kids. Play sensib… nah who am I kidding, GO MENTAL!! But remember that everything has its consequences! Being drunk around lots of cool townie people with lots of hair gel can be dangerous to your well-fostered credibility, and if not sensibly managed can lead to serious roof-fallage and other such accidents. So in timely Trinity tradition (alright Mark?) here are some guidelines by which you should lead your alcohol-addled lives:

Do: think it’s a good idea to jump over some big concrete blocks in the middle of the grass and jump off them really high!
Don’t: actually do it…

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Do: dance enthusiastically to Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go and high-five anyone who walks past.
Don’t: worry about how gay you look.

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Do: try it on with the hot girl who comes and sits down next to you, playing it cool yet subtly impressing her with your friendly, lovable demeanour and verified wit.
Don’t: sit on the edge of the table sulking when she dances with her friends, before deciding to ‘get in on the act’ by dancing oppressively closely to them and then mistaking Artic Monkeys for The Kooks, ending any chance you’d forced open in one foul swoop.

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Do: try to meet new people.
Don’t: get too upset when the bastards blank you.

Do: observe the neatly stacked boxes.
Don’t: jump on them.

Do: walk home singing a version of Afternoon Delight that the Beach Boys could only dream about.
Don’t: do it when a group of exceedingly sober people are leaving the library after some late night revision.

Do: wonder quietly to yourself how strong the corrugated plastic roof is.
Don’t: fall through it.