The Dark Prince

I went to the Australian Open yesterday and bring you the most shocking, most topical and most important news in Tennis today, namely: Serena Williams has an absolutely enormous ass. I mean, really, until you’ve actually seen it for real, it’s hard to believe, because it’s just beyond belief. Here is about the only picture I could find to prove this to you my stoically unconvinced but loyal readers:

See? But even this picture seems to lack the impact that being within 500 metres of this glutonious glob of fat has. The fact is I strongly belief that her ass is so incredibly massive that has a considerable gravitational effect on a light object such as a tennis ball, because there must be some reason why she actually wins matches.

In every match I’ve seen her play, she makes countless errors, hits the ball strongly and confidently way outside the line and generally acts extremely aggressively. Her acclaimed power is indeed there, but the ability to choose where it goes is not - she just hits hard, nothing more. For every shot you see of her hitting a ball close to the line she will have made at least five that missed by miles, yet everyone defends this lardarse. She is praised unconditionally by commentators, regularly stating that they don’t understand why she is making so many mistakes and that she doesn’t usually play like this. Just for reference, if you’re a tennis commentator, the word ‘usually’ means something that occurs regularly, and this is something that happens regularly.

Really the only thing that she and her slightly less rear-dominant sister have proved is exactly how terrible the state of womens tennis is.

Good evening no-one in particular. It has been several weeks since my last update, and this is due to several reasons, the main one being that I don’t really have that much of interest to say. But now that I have something to say I will damned well say it, so just try and stop me. Please.

Right, for a while now, officially about 5 weeks I have been a fulling functioning and contributing member of society. I have pulled my weight and earnt my right to bitch about students and so on. I have been officially employed, doing perhaps the most useless job in the history of paid occupation. I re-order stuff on the shelves of a supermarket to make it look neat.

Now, I know the first thing I’d do upon reading that would be to go to my supermarket and mess everything up as soon as possible. I’m having a hard time not doing it right now, although I’m helped by the fact that nothing is open at this time of night. So I’m not surprised that you’ve already noted down in your cunning but sadly tiny mind that you should do this at some point. The sad fact is that even if you flukely manage to guess the correct supermarket and the right section, (since there’s about 11 people doing this job) it won’t matter. It takes only a few seconds to clear things up and even less time for the next imbecile to unwittingly mess everything up.

My job is so utterly pointless that it takes me five hours to return all the things that have been left everywhere to their rightful spot and neaten up all the shelves so items are in the right place and neatly arranged, and about five minutes for the new batch of shoppers to destroy it all the next day. I’m still not entirely sure why this job is even around, but that’s not the most startling thing.

The most startling thing is that most of the managers (and even a few of the workers) seem happy with where they are. I’m sure as a kid when they were asked what they wanted to do with their life they didn’t respond, “I’d like to manage a small section of a supermarket for the rest of my life”. How can they live with such a low expectations? I imagine their life goes a bit like this: Wake up, cry for a bit, go to work, go to a pub, get very very drunk, cry for a bit more, go to sleep and fantasise about not being so fucking boring. I don’t understand how someone can live this way.

Still, I have learnt a few ways to annoy people who work in stores, so here they are for you to abuse at leisure:

• If there is a huge stand of watches, take one and set an alarm for any time you feel people would enjoy it, and then replace it deep within the pile.
• Be sure to place as many items in a precarious position as possible so they fall down on the next person unfortunate enough to stand there, (particularly enjoyable around rowdy children in a china department).
• When taking things off the shelf and returning them, if a worker asks you to just leave them because they’ll put them back, be sure to tell them that you know best and stick said item in the most obscure place possible.
• If you are old, find a drone who is obviously busy and/or stressed and don’t let them go. Ask them every single price and expiry date of every single chocolate on display. Multiple times. They will love you for it.
• Crowd around the most central aisle possible with a large group of friends, making sure that no-one, shopper or staff, can get past you. Pretend not to understand requests when people ask you to move or look at them like they’re some sort of wierdo. What right do they have to ask you to interrupt your conversation so they can get past?

There really isn’t any good way to end this, so stop reading now.