Bastard

Do everything for me, please, I'm so fucking lazy and damn important I can't be arsed.

It currently sits there, disagreeing with everybody, lying and contradicting people, even calling people liars. It sits issuing empty orders which are ignored by all, never lifting a finger to solve it's own problems, it wants everything doing for it, it wont contribute, it won't think... in fact, it can't think, it's stupid, retarded, childish and emotionally void - except for rage and anger and unless it gets what it wants, everyone will receive it's wrath.

It is in fact, impossible to be any lazier.

Disrespectful, bigoted, psychopathic, arrogant, ignorant, impatient, self-obsessed, gibbering bell-end. Make it die big Mo'. Strike it down for it IS sin.

The fat, idle, spoilt, lazy twat. May it's devilish parents burn in hell for birthing such a monster.

DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE!!!!!!

Excuses, Excuses.

"You sound like a man who didn't get much sleep last night." What? I've not even said anything yet, what the fuck does that even mean?

It's disruptive behaviour continues with a new unfounded vitriol this morning as it finds yet another excuse to talk. But here's the snag; it never says anything useful, worthwhile, interesting, work-related or even amusing; it just talks and talks, moans and complains, constant innate bollocks like a broken fucking machine.

It doesn't listen, it doesn't stop, it never stops to think, breathe, ponder, it's endless, everlasting, non-stop monotony. Solution: it's got to go, get sacked, die, disappear, anywhere, anything... just fuck off away from me you fat cunt!

I think Kyle Reese, or Michael Biehn, hit the nail on the head in 1984's The Terminator:

"It can't be bargained with. It can't be reasoned with. It doesn't feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And it absolutely will not stop, ever, until you are dead".

Never was a movie quote so well suited to real life. The question is: If I tried to crush Jelly with a giant pneumatic press, as Sarah Conner did to The Terminator, would Jelly split or would the press explode?

Filth

I prayed to big Mo' the other day and he has agreed to help me see off Jelly. Now, with Mohammed on my side, I can finally help it die, after all it must want to… look at the state of it. It's fatness frequently gets in the way of it's everyday activities such as washing, standing, walking, moving and the such.

The only thing it doesn't seem to affect is it's eating. It's never-ending feasting on sugar and fat, like a giant lard-fuelled parasite gorging and gurgling, like some kind of Uncle Buck on whiz, must be bad for it's health. Constantly puffing on billions of fags, or 'hell darts' as I like to call them, must also be causing it some breathing difficulties. Perhaps by encouraging it to start puffing woodbines, or 'hell daggers' as I like to call them, it will help to cripple it's colossal, lard-coated oil box for a heart. Just imagine what a box of 'hell swords' could do to it.

Thinking more plainly about it, I could even trip it up. Gravity would drag it down so fast that it might explode or split at the sides if it fell down the stairs… or directly onto it's derby. What a thunderous, but amusing blang-splosh that would make, and it would all be in the name of big Mo; which makes it okay, apparently.

'Hell Swords' are Cigars by the way.

Please Mohammed, make it die.

The Angry Bulb

Artwork copyrighted to Zip Zip Kanuté 2009

Eyeless Jelly

Please make it stop!
This morning Jelly has decided to talk AT me all morning further confirming it's disruptive, destructive nature. Although completely aware of my ignoring it, it continues undeterred rattling on incoherently in search of some attention, a reaction or more likely; an argument. Well, I'm not playing ball CUNT!

I think this might be the greatest 'concentration test' I've ever had. To ignore it's endless gurgling and rambling from only 3 feet way and continue to work, unaffected, fully focused is tough. There's been many times I've felt the urge to tell it to 'shut up, fuck off and die' but I've managed to keep my cool so far.

Maybe this is a turning point for my rage, maybe I'm becoming a 'nice' person… in honesty it seems unlikely. I still wanna rip it's guts out and shove 'em up my arse then shit them back in it's face.

Below are just a few of it's most ridiculous emissions so far; relating to someone it saw on it's journey into work:

… she was just utterly stupid...
... I was sick of looking at this bovine creature…
… with people like her, there is an excuse for euthanasia…
… some people are so rude and utterly stupid…

The moaning cheeky cunt. The fact that it has the guile to speak about other peoples appearances is outrageous in itself and I assure you; if anybody resembled anything even like the seething mass of frothing sugary anger that is the Jelly; they'd have seen themselves off a long time ago.

Arsenut

Will you stop banging the fucking table you fat fucking oaf!

Now please, fuck off and die you miserable twat! Please... just die, you fucking cunt! Infact, drop dead NOW and suffer in a pool of your own toxic vomit; you cunting hell-child fuck face!

You're a fucking horror of a person, a fucking horror, a nightmare, a foul stinking sweating bastard arse rag twatty bollocks!

DIE!

The Result

For those of you who had a flutter in the bookies last night I am pleased to announce that Jelly has phoned in sick again today. Although this was always the favourite outcome, congratulations to those who gambled and won.

I personally put a £10 bet on it dying but sadly this wasn't the case.

Boredom Makes You Sick

After moaning for two days that it's bored and has no work to do (even though there is plenty to do), Jelly has decided to feign illness this afternoon and spend the rest of the day at home. This was to be expected as it's constant grunting, puffing and grumbling always seems to lead to some sort of physical disgruntlement whether it be truth or lies.

But the intriguing bit of this rather mundane event is that today is Wednesday, and we've already been told that Jelly will be taking Friday off, leaving a precarious Thursday in the middle. So after a quick phone call to Billy Hill for some odds, the only question is:

Will Jelly come to work tomorrow?

9/2 - It attends
13/8 - It phones in sick
13/2 - It dies

Keep you posted for the result tomorrow.

Misquoted

After taking over a job from Jelly and reading the client's email that was sent to 'it', I spotted a possible conflict regarding a quote, given by Jelly, within the email's content. I decided to call the client to clarify the job and make sure I got it right.

The phone call went swimmingly, she was polite, friendly and clear about what she wanted me to do for her, which unfortunately didn't tally with the quote she was given. In fact, the quote Jelly had given her was 9 times LESS than what she should be have been quoted. Confused and dismayed at the new and correct quote I gave her, she referred to her line managed and opted to call me back. I apologised yet again on behalf of Jelly (to his gross dissatisfaction) for the confusion and the misquote and said goodbye. No sooner had I put the phone down when Jelly barked;

"Who was that?"

I calmly replied

"I thought I'd call ********* to clarify what it is she wants us to do, some details in the email seem to conflict and I think she's been misquoted"

I saw a rage creep across it's hideous face like an evil tidal wave of custard

"The *expletive* liar, the *expletive* liar! She asked for 'blah blah blah' and I gave her the price. I'm *expletive* sick of these lying *expletive*!"

Jelly then stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind it. It returned red faced ready for another bout of moaning. Scratching my head, I thought to try to diffuse the situation as I can no longer cope with Jelly's endless moaning and 'spoilt child-like' behaviour, so I quipped in hope:

"Well, everybody makes mistakes sometimes"

I said this in an effort to dismiss any blame from either party, hopefully shutting the bastard up even though I knew he'd dropped a bollock. This unfortunately backfired as Jelly's venomous retort proved:

"Not me! I don't make mistakes! The *expletive* moron asked me for a *expletive* price for *expletive*…"

It's at this point I switched off as my ears were ringing. How is this Jelly still employed? Your guess is as good as mine.

Wasted

With the government about to make a hideous amount of cuts right across the public sector, I can scarcely believe the content of this blog. It's no surprise cuts are vital when the waste that incompetent lackadaisical bastards create is frightening - as the pictures above prove.

Q. But what are the pictures Albert?

A . Ink my good people, £13.000 unbelievable Sterlings worth of wasted unusable ink.

Needless to say, due to the gross incompetence of Jelly; I've had to get on top of the situation and take charge to stop this ever happening again, and to stop the potential threat of having the department shut down.

What a mother fucking waste of money!

The End of Mr Table

Once upon a time there was a table called Mr Table. It was big and strong and very study, so much so that it actually warranted it's hefty price tag (thousands of sterlings). The table was very happy for many months and enjoyed being used by responsible and respectful staff but uUnfortunately it was frequently abused when Jelly came over to play. Jelly would frequently force the table to move around whilst it's wheel locks were locked, causing the table much pain and stress.

After many months or torturous abuse, Mr Table's poor wheels eroded and it's little tires slipped off making it even harder to move Mr Table around. Although this is outrageous enough, it is only the tip of this cacky iceberg. Luckily for us, even after months of torture, Mr Table was still super sturdy and strong and provided us with many more months of wonderful service until yesterday when Jelly; Mr Table's arch nemesis, decided to end Mr Tables life.

With a thrust of it's massive gut, Jelly slammed it's girth on top of Mr Table without warning, Mr Table shrieked in pain before buckling at the wheels, immediately becoming crippled. A nonplussed Jelly laughed with evil menace before wobbling back over to it's stone chair for more refreshments. We stood around shocked in disbelief.

Broken Records, Getting Upset & Plop in Slippers

Hey up folks, two things to talk about this time including how the angry Jellyfish gets annoyed at absolutely everything, no matter how inconsequential or meaningless (to the point where by it's own admission, it trembles and spits with anger and frustration) and secondly, Jelly's use of the same boring hypocritical and irritable phrases.

Firstly I'll tackle the later subject; auto-phrases. Never has a Jelly of such little wit and wisdom muttered the same, drab never-ending phrases to customers and staff. Despite announcing: "I'm the boss" to all and sundry on a regular basis, it rarely behaves like or carries out the job role of a boss or supervisor (never mind a studio manager). It is also important that you understand that Jelly LOVES the sound of it's own gurgling. Proof of this can be derived from the noisy gaseous-like emissions, usually spat in the face of customers, in which it frequently belches: "I don't know, I colour pictures in for a living" and "it's my opinion that counts", not forgetting "I'm not a typist". It's as if there's an answering machine with a seriously bad work ethic inside it's head. All questions can be answered with one of around five auto-statements; "You can fuck off I'm not doing that, please leave a message after your call."

Also, I've been recently keeping a log of 'The Fat One's' absences from the studio as it had become apparent that it disappears from the studio far too often. Ubiquitous excuses such as: "I'm going for a fag" or "I'm having a break, if they turn up tell them to wait until I get back" are spouted endlessly and are designed to somehow absolve it of it's responsibilities. Obviously, it doesn't.

Utterly ludicrous.

The 'Jelly's Break Log' I've been compiling over the past three weeks will prove that the above auto-phrases are amongst the most often used. (Disturbingly, calculations show that Jelly averages a mighty 29% worth of breaks in average 8 hour day, which if we recalculate in monetary terms it means he's being paid around £7000 per year for free).

But, probably the funniest and most cowardly of all it's ridiculous verbal regurgitation is the now infamous: 'I won't be bullied' catchphrase. This is usually shat out when a disagreement occurs with a customer or member of staff, even if it's just merely a difference of opinion voiced. (A particularly trite catchphrase considering Jelly's local reputation as a forceful dictator, opinionated bully and all-round gobshite). It's probably this auto-phrase above all others which highlights it's incompetence, piss-poor communication skills and reluctance to carry out it's job role. It seems Jelly uses it at every available opportunity for a variety of different purposes including avoiding work, deluded assertion, shouting down customers and staff or merely an excuse to shout and spit in the face of somebody.

Other mundane phrases such as 'the problem is of course' and 'for want of a better word' are less pompous but equality irritating. Below is a list of other more offensive quips from the wobbly one:

'Are you sitting down? I'm six foot five, I'm just not used to people looking over my shoulder'
'Shut the fuck up, you whining shit fuck'
'It's not my fault you're all dwarves'
'Useless shit fucks'
'If you got run over by a bus'

Now that this is finally off my chest we can move on to the anomaly as to why Jelly gets horribly annoyed and agitated at the drop of a hat. No discussion necessary; the answer is simple, it's a complete cunt with an inferiority complex. Probably down to being bummed by his Dad.

Am I not allowed to have an opinion?

Without giving the subject matter away, this is a snippet of a recent 'conversation' Jelly began:

"Oh, so it's only your opinion that counts, am I not allowed to have an opinion no?" Jelly squealed with anger, frothing at the mouth. I calmly replied, "In this case, of which I am well researched, I would consider my opinion more valid than yours as your knowledge, by your own admission, is lacking and is ill-informed. How can you have a valid opinion about something you know nothing about?"

Bubbling with rage Jelly spat; "So I'm not allowed an opinion!" I retorted, "Of course you are allowed an opinion, but don't expect me to change my view to agree with you just because you've voiced it, consider that I know more about the subject than you; it's simple logic that I don't agree with you". Boiling like an impatient kettle bobbing on the stove, Jelly spluttered, "So your opinion is more valid than mine? B*ll*cks, it's the complete opposite of logic..." sarcastically and triumphantly he continued to blabber incoherently. As I zoned out, he continued undeterred and blasted; "(blah blah)... so you're right! Nobody else is allowed an opinion... you're being an arse, as usual." Jelly started to gurn smugly as if it was winning a mind-battle with a 6 year old american delinquent with cerebral palsy.

For purely comedic reasons I continued, "I've already said everybody, including you, is allowed an opinion". I put my swimming goggles on and prepare for the spray of a thousand bovine bastards. He splattered, "Do you ever think you might be wrong, and somebody else might be right! You always think you're right, every time but you're not, you never listen to anybody else!" Struggling to keep a straight face I responded, "I do, I listen an awful lot (mainly to Jelly considering it's porcine-like mouth is always either eating or gassing)". He continued childishly, "No you don't, no you don't".

And on the rant went. As he continued I thought he might actually cry with exasperation (and explode; producing a wave of pig custard creating the world's first 'shower-trifle') but unfortunately this wasn't the case. Instead, the back of my computer monitor received the biggest man-produced biological spraying in recorded history as it was pelted with bacterial goo from Jelly's toothy cavern of noxious despair... the blast of hypocrisy and communism was so absurd, it became completely comical and slightly surreal (which is disappointingly common where the Jelly is concerned, as many will confirm).

To sum it all up. I think the Jelly's mind has finally collapsed under the pressure of it's own enormous, self-righteous ego. Let us hope that over Christmas it suffers an enormous stroke which renders it immobile and incapable of speech (let's be honest, it's already half way there). This will give us all the opportunity to shout our opinions into it's wobbly ears knowing it won't be able to reply or spit in our faces with it's usual bombastic, socialist bullsh*t. Sod waterboarding, his eyes will POP with rage when he realises no-one can hear him. Hilarious.

The Mariah Carey Incident

Shut the f*ck up you fat f*cking waste of b*st*rd space!

Welcome to a new 'Jellyjitters' blog. Today we'll be discussing 'Jelly's' incredible ability to annoy and frustrate everybody around him by merely being himself. Usually one can laugh as 'Butterball' spits and gurgles his trotsky-esque opinions and tedious anecdotes however, there are times when no matter how hard you try to ignore the b*st*rd, his never-ending racket, self-showering in drool and blatant far-leftist opinions begin to grate on the very foundations of your being.

One such trait is his complete competence at acting 'the tw*t'. Earlier he was observed guffawing at his own jokes and being as openly racist, anti-gay and misogynistic as possible. Unprofessional, loud, obnoxious and bigoted; 'Megaflatulance', after 20 years of being stuck in his chair, continues to shock staff and clients alike who still cringe with disbelief at his behaviour. How does he get away with it? Well, he doesn't. A recent complaint was issued against 'Trifle-Delux' due to his extremely poor attitude, appalling interpersonal skills and reluctance to help a member of staff. Laughing all the way to happyvile, the staff and I whooped for joy when this was announced but unfortunately it appears (yet again) he has gotten away without serious punishment. 'His' lies appear to be more potent than 'their' lies, if you catch my drift.

The ego has spoken!

Allow me to give you another a good example of 'Cheesepuff's' unprofessionalism: "I can't believe they asked me to put on Mariah Carey, I can't believe it" he plopped for the umpteenth time; "I started laughing when they asked me, so I put on Public Image, that annoys everybody" he scoffed. (Public Image by the way was a appalling, tuneless and somewhat pointless band Johnny Rotten formed after The Sex Pistols split up, needless to say, they were sh*t.). Unsurprisingly, the clients (all four of them) were upset with the choice of music blasting into their faces and understandably asked him to turn it off or at least turn it down. Smug with his own self-importance, he promptly refused and began laughing, slurping; "You dared to ask me if I had any Mariah Carey so I thought I'd put this on". It makes you wonder why some of them complain.

After 45 minutes of ear splitting music, spitting in the clients face and ranting about the history of Public Image to anybody in the vicinity; the entire workshop had developed an unsavoury atmosphere, customer were beginning to gossip about his behaviour. Fortunately (for him), The Blob stood (for the first time that morning) and exclaimed: "I'm going out for a fag, I'll send the poster to print when I get back". A mixture of disgust and relief was clear to see on the scowling faces of his clients. I quickly dashed across and turned the SH*TE music off; much to the appreciation of everybody in the room.

You'd now think; 'Right, he's told us all about the incident; end of story' but you'd be wrong. Depressingly, and probably the most outrageous aspect to this story is that at every available opportunity Butterface retells the event to myself. This happens on an almost hourly basis, revelling in his own 'superiority' and sniggering at the 'hilarity' of the event. It's as if he's won some kind of moral victory over the customers by being a complete c*nt and getting away with it. He's now been rabbiting on about the same b*st*rd incident for an entire week and it's driving me mad.

He won't shut up.

Doesn't he get the message?

We were f*cking there you stupid f*cking retard! Will you just shut your flabby f*cking trap for five b*st*rd minutes you revolting sh*t rag from hell!

Dogmatic Tedium

Edward Woodward, star of the critically acclaimed 'The Wicker Man', died recently. To pay homage to the man Mark Kermode (a huge supporter of the the film The Wicker Man) posted a video blog detailing his thoughts of and brief experiences with Woodward during their collaboration on a BBC documentary about, you guessed it, The Wicker Man. Needless to say Woodward received a warm remembrance from Kermode as he spoke of his impression of Woodward when they met. Kermode discussed Woodward's account of the filming of TWM (notoriously famed for it's back-stabbing and squabbling during production) and spoke of his acting performance within the film and in general. Then 'it' piped up.

As Kermode began to talk positively about the film, the mighty Sugarsphere began bombastically blabbing, as if provoked by some unknown fascist force, and dismissed the film as 'sh*t', referred to it as 'the emperor's new clothes' and then stated that 'it has no redeeming features'. Tough talk for one so soft and jelly-like.

I paused the video blog as the hatred flowed out of his frothing mouth as it couldn't be heard amid all the venomous spitting, slurping and gargling. Eventually the Sugarbeest's verbal assault withered into just gurgles and bad breath. It then exhaustedly gulped some air, sat back, had a 'snack' and settled back down into it's sugary slumber. As the air returned to a pleasant stillness I decided to press play again in the vain hope of actually hearing what Kermode had to say. I got 40 seconds into the recorded transmission before I had to press pause again.

Now, I think everybody's entitled to an opinion, and considering this is a democratic country in which freedom of speech is a given right, I attempted (whilst I had the chance) to voice my support for the film which I enjoyed very much. I commented on the high quality script, the acting performances, originality of the story and the clever direction as a counter argument to Jellyjitters previous comments.

Unfortunately, before I could complete my wonderful defensive argument; I was bellowed down by the spittingsphere and was told to 'have your own opinions instead of following everybody else'. Perturbed and agitated, I took a deep breath and readied myself to continue with the remainder of my argument... but it was too late. True to it's beastly nature, Sugarplump sweepingly dismissed everything I had said and was about to say and began another tirade of tyrannical jibberish. I pressed pause again an opened my umbrella.

It appears that unless you agree with Sugarbulb you automatically don't think for yourself and yet if you agree with Treacledrip you do. What a strange reality he lives in.