broken balls, exposed balls: cycle practice goes wrong

Hello testicles!

It's been a strange few weeks for the Zezaurian Cycling Dept. and things have been getting pretty painful out on the busy roads of London's Famous London. I'm struggling to keep up with the number of accidents people keep getting themselves into, but let's take look at some of my favourites ever since we said we'd do that silly race around Battersea Park.

1. "Invisible Stack"

Is there anything in life better than seeing Tim Howard hit an "invisible obstacle" in the middle of a busy road and camply flying over his handlebars, crashing face first into the tarmac like a rubbish twat? I've been playing that one on repeat in my head for weeks.

Total distance covered: 2.3 metres
Total time: 0.7 seconds
Shame level: getting caught out with an erection in maths class
Pain level: advanced vaginal thrush

2. "Stationary Stack"

Oh, the sweet, sweet shame of stacking it so comprehensively on your bicycle whilst going a whopping 2 miles-per-hour on one of the busiest streets in London. My dear friend, Tom, what the fuck happened? I think the bit that made us wee ourselves with laughter the most was the fact that you had foolishly hung a 4kg bike lock around your neck, ensuring a swift uppercut to your beautiful nose moments before you slumped to the ground. Thank you so much for this gift to us.

Total distance covered: 0.5 metres
Total time: (including the street of people laughing at you) 4 days, 17 hours
Shame level: soiling your pants in maths class
Pain level: the same as getting dumped by this.

3. "Riding to Brighton"

Drib Drab and Mr Morose did it last year, so why couldn't they do it this year?

Mr Morose: "C'mon ya handsome devil, let'sh ride to Brighton."

Drib Drab: "I dunno, man. It's, like, 5am and I'm pretty wasted."

Mr Morose: "Sho? What are you? A cock or a fanny?"

Drib Drab: "...I'm a massive, massive cock."

Ten minutes later Mr Morose was lying in the middle of the road mumbling about the bleeping sounds in his head (a pedestrian crossing). Ten minutes after that he was lying in the middle of the road again holding his ball-bag and asking why anyone in their right mind would stick a fucking illuminous bollard in the middle of an intersection. Brighton remained a long, long way away.

Total distance covered: 3.1km
Total time: 34 minutes
Shame level: soiling your pants and getting an erection about it in maths class
Pain level: listening to Mr Morose talk about his hobbies

4. "Balls out"

Special Brew and Ouzo are a pleasant mix, right? So much so, they make boys strip to their cock and balls and ride down what is perhaps the most densely packed road in London on a Saturday night and head home wondering how they're going to retrieve their penises from inside their stomachs. They should call this homoerotic game "Shrimp Saddle".

I think some of the naked riders were imagining that all the girls would whoop and throw their knickers at them, but all that really happened was that people shouted "fucking queer homo gays" and spat on their backs. Nice work revellers!

Total distance covered: 1km
Total time: 12 awful minutes
Shame level: telling people that you thought Terminator Salvation was a "pretty good" film
Pain level: sitting through all 115 minutes of Terminator Salvation

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See you on the 11th,

Miss Vacant Eyes

Zezaurian Summer Cycle Race

UPDATE: We've moved this to 11 July, Battersea Park – first race 1pm.

Three fast-as-you-can laps dodging orange-faced rich people walking their cats on velvet leashes. I can’t think of anything more fun than that. If your bike has gears, then you must pick one and stick with it as there are lots of fixed gear poser types competing, so we're insisting on one gear for everyone.

6 riders per race, 4 stages. Frolicking by the river afterwards and Northern Soul from 10pm-4am.

The winner gets a Zezaurian Headband - the hip new look for the summer.

Regards,

Miss Vacant Eyes

Four Days of Pain

***Updated because two of the people in these pictures are hot-shot lawyers and pulled a bed-wetting strop about it***

I Just spent four very long days exhausting myself with some nice rich people in what was, I think, the Land of Narnia. It was more fun than I've had in the last four years combined, despite being told that Narnia is shit-hole because it's full of Christians and paedophiles.

On one day I jumped off the top of a waterfall so high that all the skin was ripped off my shins from hitting the water so hard. I was also shot in the face, left kidney, buttocks, hands and shoulder by a real-life marine, fresh from Afghanistan, in a game of underpants-only paintball. Joy.

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I found this on the kitchen table of my cottage one morning. It was the only black person I saw in the country side. Her name was Sammy.

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This man came into my room every night and took the covers from me. He also made me answer questions such as: "Who would you rather skin alive and eat, your mum or your dad? If you say your dad, you're a gay."

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This is me wishing that I'd laid off all the free stuff they gave out.

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I know this looks kinda racist, but that was just a slug that I found and everyone was saying, "do something hilarious with it". The little fucker excreted this horrible jelly that took over an hour to fully remove. (Side note: slugs don't smell of anything.)

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My friend Tom took this picture. Seriously, how fucking shit can you make an image? Ooh, ooh, look, it's like we're in a saloon bar in the wild west. What a fucking drip. The worst part is, when he reads this he'll get all moody because he'll actually think it's a "good picture". When I took this off the camera it was one of eleven shots of the same thing - this being the only one in focus. Some days I hate Tom.

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This is Tom. Ladies, he's single and has these big square man-boob things because he works out the whole time and drinks four litres of milk a day. He's got the personality of cancer though.

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It's hard to tell from just looking at this picture, but that speaker was playing Hiretsukan at full-fucking-whack and it was such a great moment I thought I should capture it on film and post it on the Internet.

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This guy was called Henry. He was so chilled out and confident about his life that he slept like that all afternoon and all evening whilst everyone else got fucked up. I kept laughing saying that we should draw on his face and burn his pubes off, but everyone else just shrugged their shoulders and said that Tupac wouldn't do that, so maybe we shouldn't either.

Zezaurian Astronomy Dept. gets a Facebook account

When life gets you down, or you stare at your Facebook page and wonder, "why am I such a drip?" it’s usually best to think "what would Tupac do?" and take some time out to think about something that’s actually interesting for once. Sending barely intelligible messages to other drips is not interesting, no matter how you dress it up. But thinking about the super-massive black hole at the centre of our galaxy sure is.

I know, I know; you thought it would be you at the centre of the galaxy, but no, it’s actually "something" (most likely a black hole) 4.5 million times the mass of the sun. If, like me, you live in England you've probably never seen the sun, but I've been assured that the fucker is huge. Like, so huge it’s making my brain ache just thinking about it. So I can’t really compute something being 4.5 million times its mass.

Still, this black hole is also 300,000 light years away, which is a distance so vast it’s making my brain and my nipples ache. But at that distance, this HUGE monster of space-and-time-bending-madness is the size of a football on the moon. A FOOTBALL ON THE MOON. Please tell me you find this more interesting that writing "LOL" under pictures of last Saturday’s drunken mess?

What’s that? You do!?

Then why-oh-why am I the only fucker in the Zezaurian Astronomy Dept.?

Don't say it's because hanging out with me in a field looking at the sky is lame. It's not. It's amazing. Trust me, the first time I ever saw Saturn's rings through a telescope I could not sleep for days. Heck, it's even better than The X-Files comic series - and the The X-Files comic series is pretty cool.

So, in an attempt to lure in at least one new assistant member I would like to present to you my top ten facts about the universe as an act of persuasion.

In order of amazingness...

10. A supernova explosion produces more energy in its first ten seconds than the Sun will in its entire lifetime. Seriously, that is just astonishing. Are you not astonished? Really? Then how this little fact:

9. Uranus smells really bad today.

8. How many moons do you think Jupiter has? Guess first, then highlight to answer: Duh. It’s 63, you dope.

7. The universe is so vast in relation to the matter it contains that it can be compared in the following way: A building 20 miles long, 20 miles wide and 20 miles high that contains just one, tiny-weenie grain of sand. And there’s you looking at this stupid website when you could be out hugging nature.

6. Our galaxy has approximately 100 thousand million stars alone. Outside that, there are millions upon millions of other galaxies. Zezaurian astronomers (me) would guess that there are 10,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 stars in the entire universe. Holysmokes! That’s just too much to take in. Go and smoke a massive blunt and think about that. Then draw me a picture of your confusion.


5. A pulsar is a small star made up of neutrons so densely packed together that if one the size of a ten pence coin landed on earth, it would weigh approximately 100 million tons. Which is about the same as yo mama weighs.

4. The star Betelgeuse (it's in that video up top), is a total mutha humper of a gas-ball. With a diameter of around 700 million miles, if you put that sonofabitch in the centre of our solar system it would extend beyond the orbit of Jupiter. Does your tiny human brain have any idea how fucking massive that is? Its bigger than Lady Gaga. That's how big.

3. The Milky Way has a radius of about 50,000 light years - but there is a giant supercluster of galaxies in the direction of the constellations Perseus and Pegasus that is over a thousand million light-years long. Woooo-ie. That's special.

2. Uranus smells worse than it did one minute ago. Get some fresh wipes in there, stinky.

And my all time favourite...

1. Most of the elements found in the human body originated in stars; we are literally made of stardust. This never fails to blow me away. Then I look at people like this and realise that it's not all that romantic at all.

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I will be star watching on Sunday evening using my Newtonian Refracting Telescope. If I find life on another planet, I’ll let you know. If you find life on this planet, let me know.

Live long and prosper,

Drib Tiberius Drab.

The Zezaurian Music Dept. reviews Yann Tiersen

Electric Ballroom, May 2009



When I was born the umbilical cord was wrapped twice around my tiny little baby throat as the other end was being ripped away from my traumatised belly button. This meant that as I was violently ejected from my mother’s vagina I was being strangled and my eyeballs were popping out of my bewildered face.

To ensure I could survive to tell the tale (on the internet) all these 29 years later, the doctor had to push me back inside my (poor, poor) mother - followed by his big doctor hand - which he used to unravel the cord from my neck before ripping me back out into the blinding light of planet earth. It was a pretty shitty start to things, but ho-hum.

Of course, I can’t remember any of this happening because I was only 32 seconds old and unconscious. But I was told all about it after it became deeply apparent that I had an overwhelming phobia of having my throat or belly button touched, looked at, debated or in anyway referenced or referred to.

It’s been a real shitter all my life. The first thing that happened to me in this world has had such an effect on my mental health that I can’t even read a book without turning the centre crease to one side because I can’t have it lined up to my Adam's Apple. It's a bona fide disability.

Once, this girl stuck her tongue in my belly button during sex and my knee involuntarily cracked her so hard in the stomach she actually vomited over me (true).


Anyways, I also find it quite hard to enjoy a live music show when there’s very little space to watch the band and people are shifting around, spilling pints of beer from cups so flimsy they might as well be condoms. All those gross bodies shuffling around trying to find their dopey friends. Urgh.

But not one to make a fuss, as Tiersen faffed about on stage last week I kindly moved to one side to let this woman get past so she could join her friends just in front of me. But she never went and stood with them. No. The dope went and stood in the space I had temporally opened up to let her through, blocking my chance of moving back by wearing this ridiculously oversized leather backpack. This meant I was standing at a 30 degree angle on one foot, wincing, trying not to spill my own saggy johnny full of beer.

After I eventually managed to squeeze back in behind her, something truly terrible happened: I felt this horrendous sensation in my belly button. A toggle on the women’s backpack jabbed right in there – but because the venue was so packed I couldn't free myself and it stayed in there and twisted about as she jiggled around like a horny toad.

With the toggle jabbing ONLY in my bellybutton, and unable to escape, despite calling for help, I started to feel really dizzy. It just wouldn't stop, like the backpack was actually attached to me via a bastard umbilical cord of its own. Jab jab jab. It was the puggle not even my school bullies had managed to give me.

Would it now seem dramatic to say this was the worst moment of my entire life?

I don't care. It was.

After I had feinted the bouncers ploughed through the crowd like a bunch of champs and gave me a fireman’s lift out of there. They even helped me clean my underpants, which was pretty friendly of them.

But just like I've been doing everyday since my ridiculous birth, I'm going to keep on truckin' and try and make it to next week.

(And fuck knows what Tiersen's set was like, but I heard all the Amelie fans were disappointed that he only plays shitty post-rock these days. Bad luck.)

Zezaurians finally have fun

Last weekend a few of us thought it would be a good idea to surrender our bodies to the power of gravity and hurl ourselves from a great height with only an elastic string between us and a bone smashing, blood-soaked death at the bottom of a lake. And as if this weren't enough excitement for one day, us brave Zezaurians ventured into the wild immediately after the nerve rattling leap for a survival expedition in the notoriously dangerous and terrifying 'Scratchface Wood'.

Drib Drab and I awoke at stupid o' clock filled with fear and doubt at the prospect ahead of us. Personally, I wake up full of fear and doubt most days, so this was nothing new. I tried to invent elaborate excuses to bow out but Drib Drab explained to me that to overcome my reservations about hurtling myself through the air with great rapidity that I had to “feel the fear” and “be the fear”. He illustrated this statement with a weird clawing gesture with his hands that made me think he was suffering a stroke. After much feeling the fear and being the fear we embarked on our folly.

Accompanying us for the jump were fellow Zezaurians Terry Le Hate and Baby Monkey Skull, who put us to shame with their calm composure. After the writing of wills we went ahead and did our bungee business. It was pretty fun. We descended from the sky like graceful swooping eagles (all except for Drib Drab who had to be kicked off the ledge and looked like he was suffering some kind of mid-air seizure on the way down). 'Be the fear' indeed.

We proceeded to rendezvous with Woggle and Mr. Divorce, picked up some supplies, and headed to the aforementioned Scratchface Wood to continue our action packed day.


After a lengthy hike, we set up camp and Drib Drab and I gave the others a lesson on how to build a woodland shelter. Settling down for a rest, we surveyed our handiwork with pride and satisfaction. Terry produced a package containing this weird green stuff that he rolled in paper and set fire to. Everyone readily inhaled the fumes and began to behave quite strangely. I don't know what that was all about though.


While Terry was having a philosophical debate with an oak tree, Mr. Divorce suggested that we play a game called 'Sardines' and we ran off into the forest like a pack of loonies. I think the reason for this might have been that weird green stuff I told you about.

The night wore on, we cooked over the open fire, ate, drank, consumed more of that green stuff, talked nonsense, and decided that the world was a pretty good place to inhabit after all. We fell asleep with the dirt and the bugs and the sinister thought of the hangover rhino sharpening his scythe in readiness for a busy day ahead.

I invented the Zezaurian Society. NO, I INVENTED THE ZEZAURIAN SOCIETY.