The Best of Gizz's Page 2003
by Georgia Maclean-Henry aka "Gizz"
Kelly Osbourne's lost weight, hasn't she?!!!!
Happy Fucking Christmas.
This is it: the final straw! I have finally gone and lost any tiny little piece of faith in Humanity that I had left, and I am only 23. What a cynical bastard I will be if I ever reach 80!!!
This year my mates and I decided to go out for a few beers on Christmas Eve – nothing fancy, just a casual drink. By then end of the night, there were just three of us left, and we walked up through town to get home at about 1:00 in the morning. Of course by this time it’s actually Christmas morning, so everyone is wishing everybody else “Happy Christmas” (as you do).
So we walk past these two blokes and say “Merry Christmas!”
Should have been the end of it, right? Ha ha, don’t make me laugh – my life is not this simple!
We carried on walking by and suddenly these two blokes jump us from behind and start attacking Dave and Chris! And when I say ‘attacking’ I don’t mean a wet slap with a fish’s fanny, I mean full on punches in the face with intent to cause ….well, pain and death, basically! I’m talking mega psycho druggie shit. These guys were fucking nuts, and they wanted to kill us. Great.
So we did the clever thing and tried to run away. But they weren’t having any of it, and followed us, which meant having to turn and fight the fuckers!
To say that Dave and Chris gave as good as they got is putting it mildly – I couldn’t help thinking at the time that it would have made a good Manga scene. (Picture 2 guys with long hair and leather coats in a street brawl with 2 spiky-haired psychopaths, and you get the general idea.)
Whilst keeping as far away from the flailing limbs as I possibly could, I did keep up a good array of girlie screams: “Don’t hurt my friends!”, “Leave us alone!” (and my personal favourite) “Stop it! Stop it! It’s Christmas, for fuck’s sake!”
Although I did get the offer to join in (“Oh you want some too, do you, you fucking bitch??!!!”), I declined. (“Get your fucking hand off me, you bastard!” *hides behind Dave*)
Anyway this went on for about 5 minutes, until we got further enough up town for enough people to notice, and my screams of “CALL THE POLICE!!!!” actually got heard.
At this point our attackers bid a hasty retreat. And for some reason I shouted after them: “Yeah, run you cowards! Hope your mum rots in Hell for all eternity!!”
I’m sure they probably don’t care if their mums did rot in Hell, but saying it made me feel a lot better! Although, it didn’t help Dave and Chris feel any better – Chris came away with two black eyes, and Dave……well Dave was just covered in blood. All over him, all over me – his blood was fucking everywhere, and his lip was the size of Mount Doom!
Ironically the club who phoned the police for us in the end, and who let Dave wash the blood off himself in their nice bathroom, was the place where he’d previously been beaten up, thrown out of and banned from (wrongly so, might I add)! In fact this time round, they were very nice! And although comments of “Oh Dave, who’ve you been beating up this time??” we’re very amusing, I must point out they don’t reflect his usually gentle nature – we were just in the wrong place at the wrong time….again!
No, no wait I got it wrong – we weren’t just in the wrong place at the wrong time: we were in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and stupidly wished two strangers a “Merry Christmas!” Well, fuck me, I won’t be doing that again in a hurry.
What a sad world we live in.
Here's a random thought: I've decided I hate French language. German is
much better. The German temp we had in our office for a few weeks sent us a
thank you e-mail when she got home, and.....well it made me giggle:
"...I had with you 4 beautiful weeks in which I not only much learned, but
also completely dear nice humans became acquainted with..."
Waw. I've never been described as 'human' before!!! *attempts to arrange
hair so horns don't show*
Well it’s that time of year again when the elderly and decent law abiding citizens alike lie cowering in their backrooms petrified that some little bastard hell-spawn is going to tear them into little pieces, or at least wreck their house with eggs and flour……and petrol bombs.
And who do we have to thank for the wondrous tradition known as Trick And/Or Treat? Our American cousins or course!
Don’t get me wrong - I love Americans.
…Now let’s rip the piss out of them:
Sometimes it DOES take a Rocket Scientist!! (True story)
Scientists at Roll Royce built a gun specifically to
launch dead chickens at the windshields of airliners,
and military jets , all travelling at maximum velocity.
The idea is to simulate the frequent incidents of
collisions with airborne fowl to test the strength of
American engineers heard about the gun and were eager
to test it on the windshields of their new high-speed
trains. Arrangements were made, and a gun was sent to
the American engineers.
When the gun was fired, the engineers stood shocked as
the chicken hurled out of the barrel, crashed into the shatterproof shield, smashed it to smithereens, blasted through the control console, snapped the engineer's back-rest in two and embedded itself in the back
wall of the cabin, like an arrow shot from a bow.
The horrified Yanks sent Rolls Royce the disastrous
results of the experiment, along with the designs of
the windshield and begged the British scientists for suggestions.
Rolls Royce responded with a one-line memo:
"Defrost the chicken."
Joke of the week:
The new American Marine Captain was assigned to a Irish Regiment in a
remote post in the Lebanese desert.
During his first inspection, he noticed a camel hitched up behind the mess
tent. He asks the Irish Sergeant why the camel is kept there.
"Well, sir," is the nervous reply, "as you know, there are 250men here and no women. And sir, sometimes the men have...m-m-m.... urges. That's why we have the camel, sir."
The American Captain says, "I can't say that I condone this, but I understand about urges, so the camel can stay."
About a month later, the Captain starts having a real problem with his own
urges. Crazy with passion, he asks the Irish Sergeant to bring the camel
to his tent. Putting a stool behind the camel, the Captain stands on it, pulls down his pants, and has wild, insane sex with the camel.
When he is done, he asks the Sergeant, "Is that how the Irish do it?"
"Uh, no sir," the Sergeant replies. "They usually just ride the camel into
town where the girls are."
(God bless America!!)
Douglas the humble crab and Kate the Lobster Princess were madly, deeply and passionately in Love. For months they enjoyed an idyllic relationship until one day Kate scuttled over to Douglas in tears.
"We can't see each other any more..." she sobbed.
"Why?" gasped Douglas.
"Daddy says that crabs are too common," she wailed. "He claims you are a mere crab, and a poor one at that, and crabs are the lowest class of crustacean and that no daughter of his will marry someone who can only walk sideways."
Douglas was shattered, and scuttled sideways away into the darkness to
drink himself into a filthy state of aquatic oblivion.
That night, the great Lobster ball was taking place. Lobsters came from
far and wide, dancing and merry making, but the lobster Princess refused to join in, choosing instead to sit by her father's side, inconsolable.
Suddenly the doors burst open, and Douglas the crab strode in.
The Lobsters all stopped their dancing, the Princess gasped and the King Lobster rose from his throne.
Slowly, painstakingly, Douglas the crab made his way across the floor...
and all could see that he was walking, not sideways............ but FORWARDS, one claw after another!!
Step by step he made his approach towards the throne,.... until he looked the King lobster in the eye.
There was a deadly hush..................................
For quite a while...........................
Finally, the crab spoke.......
"Fuck me, I'm pissed."
Another installment of Crazy Things...
Thought for the day (It's been a while, I know!):
What is it about office buffets that prompts workers to bring in their
bratty little Hell-Spawn?? A boring office like this one is no place for a
restless child. They become grumpy and agitated, and start screaming and
crying! We get enough of that bollocks from the clients - do we have to put
up with it from babies too???
"Isn't he just adorable....?" Asks the Overweight Office Hag of Doom.
No. He is the by-product of a sexual act between you and your fat, sweaty,
balding, arrogant twat of a husband - which makes him repulse me in every
way! Now go away, and take your ugly whining offspring with you!!!!!!!
> These are (allegedly) metaphors from actual GCSE essays:
> Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two other sides
> gently compressed by a Thigh Master.
> His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like
> underpants in a tumble dryer.
> She caught your eye like one of those pointy hook latches that used to
> dangle from doors and would fly up whenever you banged the door open
> The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling
> ball wouldn't.
> McMurphy fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a paper bag filled
> with vegetable soup.
> Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.
> Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in the centre.
> Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
> He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.
> The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry
> them in hotgrease.
> Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the
> grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left
> York at 6:36 p.m. travelling at 55mph, the other from Peterborough at 4:19
> p.m.at a speed of 35mph.
> The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the full stop after the Dr.on
> a Dr Pepper can.
> John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also
> never met.
> The thunder was ominous sounding, much like the sound of a thin sheet of
> metal being shaken backstage during the storm scene in a play.
> The red brick wall was the colour of a brick-red crayon.
> Even in his last years, Grandpa had a mind like a steel trap, only one
> that had been left out so long it had rusted shut.
> The door had been forced, as forced as the dialogue during the interview
> portion of Family Fortunes.
> Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.
> The plan was simple, like my brother Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just
> might work.
> The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for
> a while.
> "Oh, Jason, take me!" she panted, her breasts heaving like a student on
> 31p-a-pint night.
> He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck either, but real
> duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or
> Her artistic sense was exquisitely refined, like someone who can tell
> butter from "I Can'tBelieve It's Not Butter."
> She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just
> before it throws up.
> It came down the stairs looking very much like something no one had ever
> seen before.
> The knife was as sharp as the tone used by Glenda Jackson MP in her first
> several points of parliamentary procedure made to Robin Cook MP, Leader of
> the House of Commons, in the House Judiciary Committee hearings on the
> suspension of Keith Vaz MP.
> The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg
> behind her, like a dog at a lamp post.
> The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of
> his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly
> surcharge-free cashpoint.
> The dandelion swayed in the gentle breeze like an oscillating electric fan
> set on medium.
> It was a working class tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with
> their power tools.
> He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if
> she were a dustcart reversing.
> She was as easy as the Daily Star crossword.
> She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was
> room-temperature British beef.
> She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.
> Her voice had that tense, grating quality, like a first-generation thermal
> paper fax machine that needed a band tightened.
> It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the
Well I'll tell you what I did - I took the day off and went to ...THE ZOO!!!!!!
Yup. Nothing better than watching a bunch of animals right in the middle of mating season!
Kid: "Mommy, what's that big monkey doing to that small monkey?"
Mum: "Oh my! That's disgusting - I think I'm going to be sick!"
Us: "Woohoo! She never saw that one coming!! Ha ha ha!!”
“Jeezus Christ that didn't last very long - glad I'm not a baboon!!"
As well as that, other highlights included the orang-utans (One was trying to work out Dave's digital camera, while the other one just kept rolling round and round and round…), the funky wobbly bridge which read "Hang on as necessary", the reptiles (I love reptiles!), the Lion that wouldn't shut up, and the junk shop at the end, where I bought assorted plastic lizards for no particular reason.
And then there was this:
Dave: "Oh weird - look at those! They look like giant ducks!!"
Me: "Yeah, they'd be geese!!"
Heh heh. ‘Giant Ducks’ does sound more interesting to be fair, right?
Downsides included having to resist the urge for the following:
'Accidentally' push annoying kids into the tiger enclosure.
Chase relentlessly after the peacocks in order to yank out a tail feather of two.
Run through the zoo screaming "They're loose! Run for you're lives!!"
Anyway, so that was my day! Back to the office tomorrow.....which is kind of like a zoo anyway to be honest.....!
Living by the seaside has it's disadvantages...
WHY IS THE SEA SALTY???????
An update to Crazy Things!
Who says I don't pay enough attention to the topical issues of the world?
And check out Crazy Things
Yerg! I think I'm BLIND!
Things that people say on the phone, which really piss me off.
Anyone who has ever worked in a place where you’re answering a lot of phones knows that the telephone turns the average human being into a babbling fool. Directory Enquiry operators will know only too well the frustration caused because the guy on the other end gave his own name, rather than the name of the person he needed the number of. And then, moments later, he rings back demanding to know why he ended up with his own phone number!
Oh yes, it is most annoying, and no doubt causes a great deal of unnecessary stress in the workplace. But what can we, the public, do to avoid such dilemmas?
To help you lot out, I have compiled a simple list of the top five phone conversations I never want to have ever again:
Me: “Morning, Social Services.”
X: “Hello? Is that Social Services?”
(I want to say: ‘Er, no actually, I just like pretending that I work for them, ‘cos I am THAT sad.’)
Me: “Yes, how may we help you today?”…
Me: “Morning, Social Services.”
X: “Hello? Is that the library?”
(I want to say: ‘What did I just say, huh? Did I SAY “Morning, the LIBRARY”? No, I didn’t, did I. I said “Morning, SOCIAL SERVICES” – DUH!!!!’)
Me: “No, I’m sorry - you’re through to Social Services. Can I get you the number for the library?”…
Me: “Morning, Social Services.”
X: “Is that you?”
(I want to say: ‘What do you mean ‘Is that you?’ Of course it’s me! Who else am I gonna be, dumb ass?!’)
Me: “Who did you want to speak to?”…
Me: “Morning, Social Services.”
X: “Is Mrs Bloggs there?”
Me: “I’m afraid she’s off sick today, can I get a message to her at all?”
X: “Well, when will she be in?”
Me: “I’m afraid I don’t know. She could be off for the next few days.”
X: “Well, why don’t you know?”
(I want to say: ‘Oh I’m SO sorry I don’t know the battle plan of the bacterial infection currently infesting Mrs Bloggs’ small intestine! If you could wait a while, I’ll just give them a buzz on my inter-corpus walkie-talkie, and ask them, shall I???
*Agent Gizz to Chief Bacterium! Come in, Chief Bacterium! Hello? Hello, Commander Microbe, is that you? How long are you going to be keeping Mrs Bloggs out of action then? What’s that – you don’t know? Maybe a few days? Thought so. Over and out!*’)
Me: “It really all depends when she is well enough to come back. She will probably be back within the next few days…”
Me: “Morning, Social Services.”
X: “Hello, is Mr Smith there?”
Me: “I’m afraid he no longer works here, can I get a duty worker to take your call?”
X: “….No, I really want to speak to Mr Smith please.”
(I want to say: ‘Oh I see, you really want to speak to him! Well, that makes all the difference! I’ll just wave my magic wand and make him appear out of thin air shall I? Oh hang on, that’s right - Even if I could do that, he still wouldn’t want to talk to you because he DOESN’T WORK HERE ANYMORE!!!!!!)
Me: “I’m afraid he no longer has any dealings with this office……”
So that’s my basic top five.
For obvious reasons I did not include the ones who take 2 hours to give you their whole life story, when all they really want is a bloody walking stick (bless ‘em!).
There are, however, other issues concerning my beloved phone:
· If you want to avoid winding me up to the point of galactic destruction, never ever start a telephone conversation with:
“Oh yes, hello, I wonder if you can help me…”
Do you realise how many times I hear that exact phrase every day? Oh lord preserve us, just thinking about it is making me mad!
No! I can’t help you, you pointless bollock! Stop saying that! Stop it – all of you!! No! NO!! NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!
· Don’t start lecturing me about Government policy. What is the point in moaning at me about all the money going to refugees and losers? I know the system sucks, but it really has nothing to do with me – take it to Tony fucking Blair! He runs the country, not me.
· I am not Directory Enquiries!! If you want a phone number, look the bugger up, or phone 192! Don’t phone Social Services – despite what you people seem to believe, we do not know everyone in the country personally!
· Do not phone up and ask for ‘the person I was just talking to’. I do not know who you were just talking to - I am not omniscient. This situation is made worse by the fact it usually always results in me having to run round the office asking people if they remember phoning somebody.
I get enough exercise walking to work, people – I don’t need that shit.
I hope these suggestions of what not to say have been helpful.
Remember: You too, can be my perfect caller! The best type of caller phones some bugger else!
If you have any thoughts or suggestions on this subject, please leave your message after the tone…
Joke of the week:
Two men are sitting in a pub, when one turns to the other and begins telling
him a story...
Man 1: I was walking home from work last night, and I saw this woman tied
to the train track! So I skidded down the bank, untied her, took her home
and made mad passionate love to her all night long.
Man 2: Bloody hell. So, was she pretty then?
Man 1: Dunno. She didn't have a head!
My mum told me that one. :-/
My friend just sent me these…
Hmm… Some people just have TOO much time on their hands!!
Today I have reached the grand old age of 23. To celebrate I'm thinking of erecting a giant statue of myself in the middle of town, and force 47 naked, bloody virgins to dance round it chanting "All hail almighty Gizz, Bringer of Darkness, Destruction, Chaos and Despair!", which in turn will summon the spirit of Satan to erupt from the bowels of the Earth, and scorch the entire world with the most Evil and Terrible Fires of Seventh Hell. Either that or go to the beach and get a tan. Each option would include beer, so I'm happy.
OK. So every now and then I get a bunch of those lame questionnaires that
ask you what your favourite colour is and how you like your steak cooked.
My big question of the day is: WHO FUCKING CARES?
I used to fill them in with what I though were hilarious replies and send
them on thinking everyone would laugh and realise just how witty and great I
But then I realised that it actually just made me look like a sad loser with
nothing better to do.
So I have devised my own questionnaire:
1. What is your name?: Georgia Maclean-Henry (AKA Gizz)
2. What is your age?: 22
3. What shoe size is your mum?: 4
4. What shoe size is your dog?: Don't have a dog.
5. What is your favourite colour of ant-eater?: Purple.
6. What makes a good tooth?: Enamel.
7. How come ginger people look like they have no eyebrows?: 'Cos they're
8. How come gay people look like they have no eyebrows?: 'Cos they're gay.
9. What the hell is that??!!!!!!!!!!! ?: Dunno.
10. No, look! It's right behind you! It's coming to get us! No! Oh my
GOD! AAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHH!!!! ?: Look, I told you I don't know what it
11. What's your favourite day (Excluding Christmas, Easter, your birthday,
anybody else's birthday, Halloween, Pancake Day, New Year's Day, New Year's
Eve, St Patrick's Day, St George's Day, Independence Day, 5th November,
April Fool's Day and any day of the week/weekend)?: Um..... Saturday?
12. NO, you twat! I said excluding any day of the week or weekend!! ?: Oh,
sorry, um...... Christmas Day?
13. Oh you're just stupid. Get a fucking life! ?: .......ok
14. What's the bloody point?: Not sure...
15. How many times have you killed yourself?: 3.
16. What is the square root of 47,139?: 217.11517
17. Did you use a calculator?: ....no
18. You're lying aren't you?: ......no.
19. What's the first thing you notice about the opposite orang-utan?:
Edna's an orang-utan??
20. What is the colour of your imaginary friend's trousers (If he is
invisible, and won't tell you what colour his trousers are, write 'Not
applicable')?: He's wearing a skirt. And it's pink.
Now copy and paste this into your own e-mail. Erase all the answers I've
just put and write in your own lame, boring ones. Then send it to everyone
you know, just to piss them off.
If you send it within the next 5 seconds you will get so much luck you'll be
shitting the stuff out of your ears! The world will grow a big rainbow:
Starving children will suddenly become ok again, and little fluffy lambs
will skip through the land singing songs about how lovely you are!!
If you don't send it you will DIE!! Everyone you love will turn into flesh
eating dolphins, and they will rape your arse in Hell for all eternity!!!
Now BUGGER OFF!!!!! And never send me another bloody e-mail questionnaire
Here's something to cheer you up: I've just heard a cool
topical joke that I deem worthy enough to be on my poor neglected page as
joke of the week:
George Bush has a heart attack and dies. He goes to Hell where Satan is
waiting for him.
"I don't know what to do here." says Satan. "You are on my list but I have
no room for you. You definitely have to stay here, so I'll tell you what
I'm going to do. I've got three folks here who weren't quite as bad as you.
I'll let one of them go, but you have to take their place. I'll even let
YOU decide who leaves."
George thought that sounded pretty good, so he agreed.
Satan opened the first room: In it was Richard Nixon and a large pool of
water. He kept diving in and surfacing empty-handed over and over and over.
Such was his fate in Hell.
"No!" George said. "I don't think so. I'm not a good swimmer and don't
think I could do that all day long."
Satan led him to the next room: In it was Tony Blair with a sledgehammer
and a room full of rocks. All he did was swing that hammer, time after
time, after time.
"No, I've got this problem with my shoulder. I would be in constant agony
if all I could do was break rocks all day!" commented George.
Satan opened a third door: In it, George saw Bill Clinton, lying on the
floor with his arms staked over his head, and his legs staked in
spread-eagle pose. Bent over him was Monica Lewinsky, doing what she does
best. George Bush looked at this in disbelief for a while and finally said,
"Yeah, I can handle this."
Satan smiled and said........................................
"OK, Monica, you're free to go!"
Well, normally this would be where you would see Gizz's rants from February, but since she was busy and then got her tonsils taken out, she didn't have any rants...
Surprisingly, after all the hassle I’ve had over the past few months, I have managed to stay in my job. As part of the re-shuffling of our admin staff, I have recently been given the wonderful responsibility of managing the Stationery Cupboard.
In my new role as Stationery Girl I have been ordering all the things we need, and it has made me realise how easy going this place can be:
A moment ago I completed quite a lengthy stationery order, and gave it to the boss for authorisation, which she signed happily, seemingly without checking it. I am pleased that my boss has such confidence in me as an honest and conscientious member of her team. Besides, I could've ordered an elephant for all she knew! But I didn’t. Aren’t I responsible?
…Did you know you can order a box of 10,000 personalised mouse-mats for just over £13,000 for your office? (Who the hell has an office that needs THAT many mouse-mats!?)
I should have ordered those – the boss wouldn't have noticed!! I could've personalised them with the words "FUCK OFF!!"
10,000 "FUCK OFF!!" mouse-mats - what a great way to get the sack!!
This is what happens when Psycomatronic and I get bored at home:
My personal favourite is the hooker!! 'Mmm... gingerbread prostitute!'
Catch Gizz in her worldwide debut video! (avi format, 708Kb)
Yeah that's me! I don't even like fish! Ammy did the sound effects, and Vex filmed it (just to give credit to the rest of the film crew..!) Oh god, we were all so wasted - we bought three fish (one each) from a shop down the road from Vex's house. The guy in the shop said "Why the hell are you buying those? To which we replied "Why the hell are you selling them??" And on the way home, we kept dropping them on the pavement, in all the muddy puddles, and Ammy thought it would be really funny to put a fish in all our drinks when we got in!! Eeeeuurgh!
Also, check out Mrorangehead!
By the way - here's my joke of the week:
A cow turns to another cow in a field.
Cow 1: "All this talk about Mad Cow Disease is a bit scary really, isn't
Cow 2: "I dunno - I'm a tractor."
The European Union commissioners have announced that an agreement has been reached to adopt English as the preferred language for European communications, rather than German, which was the other possibility.
As part of the negotiations, the British government conceded that English spelling had some room for improvement and has accepted a five-year phased plan for what will be known as EuroEnglish (Euro for short).
In the first year, "s" will be used instead of the soft "c". Sertainly, sivil servants will resieve this news with joy. Also, the hard "c" will be replaced with "k". Not only will this klear up konfusion, but typewriters will have have one less letter.
There will be growing publik enthusiasm in the sekond year, when the troublesome "ph" will be replaced by "f". This will make words like "fotograf" 20 per sent shorter.
In the third year, publik akseptanse of the new spelling kan be expekted to reach the stage where more komplikated changes are possible. Governments will enkorage the removal of double letters, which have always ben a deterent to akurate speling. Also, al wil agre that the horible mes of silent "e"s in the languag is disgrasful, and they would go too.
By the fourth year, peopl wil be reseptiv to steps such as replasing "th" by "z" and "w" by " v".
During ze fifz year, ze unesesary "o" kan be dropd from vords kontaining "ou", and similar changes vud of kors be aplid to ozer kombinations of leters.
And efter ze fifz yer, ve vil al be vriting English ze vay Germans spel it today!