A website called
The Apologist has made it to a few newspapers here. People log on, register apologies and go about their day unencumbered by further guilt. That's the theory, anyway. For example:
Guest
Posted: Thu Jul 29, 2004 12:45 pm Post subject: Jealous
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I´m sorry I got so jealous yesterday - I just got used to you working in an office with only blokes, so when she started working there I just got scared that you would like her more than me because she understands your job and I´m not great with computers and stuff. I know that that is completely unfair and untrue, I´ll try to calm down a bit and not let it happen again. Criminals also get a chance to offload:
Guest
Posted: Tue Aug 03, 2004 10:03 pm Post subject: Burglary ------------------------------------------------------------------------
I am sorry for breaking into an older couple's house and stealing a salt and pepper set when I was 17. I was young and drunk (again). I did get a criminal record and for that, too, I am sorry.
Chris
And people with wind 'issues':
Guest
Posted: Fri Jun 25, 2004 10:47 am Post subject: To the lady into whose face I farted at Green Park
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I cannot apologise enough. You see, I'd needed the fart since I got on the Tube at Willesden Green but didn't want to release it in the confines of the train, so I thought I could keep it in until I reached the open air at Green Park. Unfortunately, the action of walking up the stairs dislodged the fart loudly right into your face, which was at arse level on the steps behind me. I know that the gentlemanly thing to do was to have apologised there and then. Instead, I took one look at your stricken face and ran all the way to Piccadilly Circus.
I am so sorry.
I guess your expectation is that you get online, release your pent-up culpability and go on your merry way. So it must have come as a bit of a surprise to
this guy when one of the women he was apologising to sprung him. I think it's safe to say there's no love lost between the two.
One of my favourite rejoinders? 'Speaking for the three of us, if we wanted support, we wud have got an uplift bra or a low-riding, female abdominal truss...and billed it to your credit card.' WHAMMO. Boy, you certainly cut him down to size there young lady! Owch!!
Here are some of my apologies:
- Glenn, I'm sorry I make fun of
Jet all the time and call them a second-rate covers band with their heads up their own arses, when you were the one who signed them to EMI.
- Mum, I'm really really really sorry for the years 1990 - 1994.
- I'm sorry I started the Joey Dee fan club when I was eleven and told my parents it was just because he was 'nice'. In truth, I wanted to touch his wa-wa.
- Brett Birkhill, I'm sorry I laughed so hard on our date that I wet my pants. I'm even more sorry that I tried to cover it up by clumsily pretending to fall into a fountain.
- Doctor who put stitches in my vagina after a horsing accident when I was sixteen and told me not to swear, I'm sorry I didn't call you a cunting fucklord.
- To the Adelaide woman whose son was found with a hook stuck in his anus, I'm really sorry we laughed about it for about half an hour on last night's radio show.
Seriously though, it does sound kind of funny.
3 comments.
I've spent a little of work's time this afternoon researching all things Queer for tonight's radio show. It was during that time that I came across these people:
Some fuckers are so ignorant even a gentle stabbing would be too kind. Words fail me.
I truly hope these folk die soon. Especially the little fucker on the left. Look at him trying to hide behind his sign. We can see you, cuntrag.
6 comments.
On my radio show tonight, we'll be hosting psychadelic freak-out merchants
The Sand Pebbles as they count down their top 5 rooting songs. We'll also be talking about all things Queer, which means for certain Glenn will be doing an inappropriately camp gay voice.
You can listen to live streaming of three people being incredibly trite
here .
2 comments.
- Slapped my knockers.
- Toyed suggestively with some sour cream.
- Called me her missus.
- Picked my nose.
- Compared me unfavourably to a bag lady at a bus stop.
- Insisted I remove the post on this blog that said one of her colleagues had 'a gay name'.
- Practiced bad open-mouth teeth-bang kisses on me.
- Stroked my thigh slowly and insanely saying: 'Ooh, laaahhhvely', with the sole purpose of creeping me out.
- Got angry at me for not eating more of her soup.
- Stood outside my front door bent over double with her face pressed up against the glass. For a long time. A very long time.
9 comments.
It's like finding your porn name, only
very rock and now . And, you know, since Jennifer Aniston wore an MC5 t-shirt on friends we all know rock is the new rock.
1 comment.
1. Going to the snow. In your head - especially if you've grown up in rigidly un-snowy Melbourne - snow is an Enid Blyton-esque powdery blanket that envelops the land, not unlike a soft, fluffy marshmallow cloud. You recall whimsical tales of ruddy-cheeked children catching uniquely-shaped snowdrops on the tip of their tongue before racing inside for hot chocolate and carols.
Then you go for a day trip to Lake Mountain and realise that not only is it just dirty ice, but you're going to spend the entire day dodging fat women in ski overalls who keep tipping over like they're rolling drunk in a Surfers Paradise nightspot.
2. Having sex with a crush for the first time. You've worked on each other for a few weeks, sodden in a hormonal haze. Not only does he or she get your references to
League of Gentlemen , they've also made you a killer mix tape. And then you get naked. It may improve from here on in, but that first one is most always regrettable for many reasons.
3. Spending 'quality time' with a three year-old. People who are 'good with kids' always seem like the most genuine, good-hearted folk. When you see them 'connecting' with some little tyke in an I'm-a-grown-up-but-hey-I'm-on-your-level type of way, you think to yourself: 'Now there's someone who knows how to get their hands dirty'. You want to be like that so you insist on a little one-on-one with a knee-high yourself. But after about an hour you realise that not only are you awkward and stiff around people who can't pronounce the letter 'r' or the word 'chocolate', you're also an unimaginative fuck who finds crawling around on your hands and knees degrading. And you are a bad person for this reason.
4. Going to a theatre restaurant. I took my beloved friend television's Kynan Barker to
Hunchbax for his 21st birthday (past shows: 'Forrest Hump', 'Bravehump', 'Raiders of the Lost Hump' and 'The Full Humpy'. Currently showing: 'Hump-erectomy'). My, how we nudged each other when the show began, rolling our eyes and basking in our intellectual superiority. What ironic fun was this!
That is, for the first hour or so. Then the show keeps going. And going. And going. And then there's cocktails afterwards. And a disco. And coffee and dessert. And your 'let's have a laugh or two' evening finishes at 1am with your life about four hours shorter.
5. Having a baby. Sure, you're all roly poly and 'glowing' for nine months. You paint a room and everyone touches you. Then you come home from hospital with a screaming shit-machine. I'd call that an anticlimax.
6. Road trip. You're not freedom fighters on the edge of oblivion. You're bickering over the O Brother Where Art Thou soundtrack and a CC's packet.
4 comments.
They make it sound so fancy pants when they say it in French.
Sexe sans conséquence
Coup sans mâle
Femmes sans poids publie
Café sans sucre
Spike sans Sofia
Niggers sans attitude
2 comments.
