Manual labour often leads to moments such as this – boxes of stuff landing on you. Don’t forget to sue!
Did you know 101% of all accidents take place in the workplace!? It’s Christmas and the odd bone crunching incident can occur in the blink of an eyeball, and it’s all due to snow! Just yesterday one of our staff members fell over on the stuff in the office (there’s a giant hole in the roof – plus we always leave our windows wide open) and he broke a nail. He immediately sued Professional Moron using Professional Moron’s very own Accident Insurance company, which we set up yesterday following the nail breaking fall. Oh boy, have we had a lot of business! It seems everyone’s eager to sue these days and Professional Moron champions your writes as a human bean!
What happens is this: you suffer a trip or slip at work, then you contact us and we’ll sue the pants off your employer! It worked a treat against us and now we’re going out of business, but here are personal testimonials from happy customers who have used our service within the last 24 hours:
- Mary Bilge, 40, Toilet cleaner: “I got my head stuck in the toilet bowl at work. This isn’t my fault for having a massive brain, so I contacted Professional Moron and they won me 35p and a free hair wash at the local barbers. Their service is adequate.”
- Edward Oarful, 33, Lavatory Attendant: “After accidentally getting my legs stuck in the toilet’s U bend, I rang Professional Moron. They told me they could get me £10 million compensation! Ultimately I got £10, but it’s the thought that counts!”
- Mandy Shed, 55, Chef: “Whilst cooking one morning I hacked off my arms by accident with a ladle. I rang Professional Moron. Their Customer Service team made me feel warm and happy, although that may have been the morphine doctors had put me on.”
- Gregory Clumsy, 70, Retired: “I tripped over a double decker bus and fractured my elbow. I sued the government through Professional Moron and was sent to jail. I don’t recommend them.”
- Jessica Geese, 18, Student: “On a night out I accidentally did something which I can’t remember. Professional Moron pleaded insanity for me and I now live in a psychiatric ward.”
- Ronald Trump, 40, Baker: “Whilst baking I got sucked into a machine and was baked into a 6ft loaf of wholemeal bread. I sued the company through Professional Moron. Their expertise was beyond belief. They even pleaded insanity and got me a new job as baker in a psychiatric ward!”
- Barbara Moose, 30, Administrator: “My boss fell on me by accident and I broke my left nostril. I called Profession Moron and they signed me up to experimental scientific services. I now have an extra limb growing from my forehead.”
- Bob McIntyre, 25, Footballer: “The football it me in the face and my nose went from one side to the other and now sticks out of the back of me head. I called the only company I knew who could handle my claim, but Professional Moron simply laughed. I later pleaded insanity.”
Want to sue someone this Christmas? You know the number to call: 000 000 000 000 111 000 9891
A Christmas tradition!
Christmas is a strange time where people act in an odd jolly way. In England traditions include watching The Great Escape for the 100th time, lying to children about Santa Claus, putting a Christmas Tree up, and cooking a Roast Dinner. The latter are odd things. There be no denying a full on Roast Dinner at Christmas is traditional and mega tasty, with roast potatoes, roast chicken/turkey, roast sprouts, roast gravy, and roast Yorkshire Puddings. However, it all takes around 4 hours to roast in the Roast Machine (also known as an “oven”) yet is consumed heartily in about 25 minutes flat. This is in part due to its tastiness, but also as everyone’s been starving for 4 solid hours waiting for the meal and, consequently, they gorge on the roasted food.
Professional Moron has decided against it this year. Our Christmas Day food preparation will consist of toasting some bread and cooking up some baked beans. Yes, Beans on Toast is a legendary institution in the UK and we’d like to honour it this Yuletide as we’re lazy and insubordinate. And why not? Isn’t it thyme we mock Christmas a wee bit; why treat it with such reverential seriousness? Indeed, so this year we’re not putting up a Christmas Tree. No. We’re putting up a Christmas Hedge, and we’ll decorate it with Communist propaganda! Instead of putting an Angel on top of it, we’ll stick an Angle up there – an acute one, say. We’ll pass on watching The Great Escape in favour of SpongeBob SquarePants, and we shan’t be buying anyone ANY presents. No. We’re going to ram raid a Toys R Us and take our pickings. MWahahahaaa!
We suggest you join us. You don’t have to, but we suggest it. Also, if you’re fed up of listening to Slade’s Christmas song for the 50 millionth time, put the below ditty on whilst you shovel baked beans into your subversive mug. Christmas cheer! Huzzah, I say! Huzzah.
Courtesy of the awesome Gratisography.com
We were going to write a proper post today but gave up. We decided to leave this karate dude, whom we’ve called Cuthbert, in charge of the Professional Moron blog whilst we’re away. Got a problem? You’d better not, as Cuthbert can punch with the power of 70 billion sardines! We know you’re scared but fear not – normal service resumed tomorrow.
The Age of Reason.
Welcome back, morons, to Book Of Da Week. This is a weekly (usually) column where we explain to you culturally starved lunatics the brilliance of brilliant novels! On this occasion we take a gander at Jean-Paul Sartre’s The Age of Reason, his first novel in the Roads to Freedom trilogy. Now Sartre was a fan of this thing called Existentialism, which is about existing within an “ism”. No one knows what this means other than Sartre and Albert Einstein, but they’re dead. Consequently we’re not going to elucidate the matter, as we can’t. We would apologise, but we can’t be bothered.
Before we continue, a note on the text. It IS NOT to be confused with the equally enjoyable: The Age of Raisins. Raisins are nice food stuffs, but not the topic of choice for literary giants.
Excellently this confusion doesn’t impact upon the excellence of this excellent novel. Excellent! There’s a certain edge to the themes as it was published in 1945, with the Nazi occupation of Paris a startling realisation for Sartre. The book deals with Mathieu Delarue, who deems it vital to raise 4,000 Francs in order to fund his mistresses’ abortion. Introduced early in the story, the central plot becomes secondary as Mathieu pursues other interests. As a philosophy lecturer, he lusts after the extremely pretty but emotionally stunted Ivich, whilst acting as a father figure to her awesome brother Boris. The characters he introduces all deal with the author’s ideal of freedom, in its many forms, as the ultimate human goal, but the philosophical nature of the book doesn’t deter away from the fact it’s a remarkable piece of writing. We could enthuse further but the only way to do justice to this novel is to read it. Do so, or face the consequences!
A few years ago on Professional Moron we managed to get Santa Claus to write official weekly columns for us. Unfortunately this deal turned sour after Santa accused us of tampering with his work. Some of the claims Santa levelled at us were: a) We made him out to be a psychotic maniac, b) We made him look like a psychotic drunk, and c) We ruined his mythology with a and b. Following a cooling off period, Professional Moron and Santa are back together again as he “Needs the money…” and only we are offering him the chance to rant for a meagre 1p a sentence. Welcome back Santa!
We should state Santa has been truncated this week as his writing has lost its former sheen. Gone are the witticisms on his yearly haul around the globe. In their place are what we dub “bittercisms”, a kind of bitter contemplation and lamentation on existence as a whole. Yes, Santa’s gone existential. Whilst he gets back into the swing of writing we’ve allowed him leeway, but this does mean he’s only been paid 13p for this week’s work. The poor old git.
Santa’s Column, December 11th 2014
“I began this week by punching one of my Elves violently in the face cos the cheeky SOB called me a “Fat sack of ship!” (I have changed the swear as it seems in bad form to write “shit” out for the world to see). The other Elves, plus the one I punched, have now boycotted their present making duties until I apologise. They want me to make amends by doing the Gangnam Style dance naked. I’ve told them to “stuff it one, you little freaks!” I’m not doing that!
This does mean only 49% of the presents are ready for Christmas, so if you’re expecting that pony, or a DJ kit, or a new laptop, you may well go disappointed. The Reindeer, particularly Rudolph, have not been helpful during this time. Rudolph is petulant and lazy! Yesterday I asked him to help me and Mrs. Santa Claus cook dinner. “Piss off!” he yelled from his Reindeer Shack. I went to see what he were doing and he were sat there on his sofa staring blankly into the middle-distance. He seemed depressed, so I shot a wodge of ketamine into him with me shotgun. He was last seen terrifying the Elves with his dancing impersonations of Miley Cyrus. I hope this solves the boycott.”
Thomas isn’t very alone in Thomas Was Alone.
Ashamedly, we woz well slow on this one. Mike Bithell’s excellent indie puzzle game were released in 2010 as a Bowser (get it?) game. Since then it’s found a home on the PC, those stupid iPhone things, and on duh PS3, but was released on the Wii U and PS4 at the end of November 2014. We picked it up on the Wii U and have been delightedly playing its awesomeness ever since.
The game centres around Thomas, a rectangle in a computer mainframe who has advanced Artifical Intelligence (AI) following some sort of incident. The big irony of the title is Thomas isn’t alone. He’s totally not alone. At all. He’s quickly joined by a group of other shapes, such as the grumpy Chris, Claire who has designs on superhero stuff, chirpy John, and bouncy Lisa. They all have various jumping abilities for you to traverse the stages you come across. When you reach new areas Danny Wallace’s narration kicks in with amusing, fourth wall breaking comments. Plus there’s the music, which is ace. It’s all rather proper bo!
It’s a straight forward, weirdly relaxing puzzle game which doesn’t offer a massive challenge on your brain, but we guess this is the point. You drift through and come to love the little shapes with their disparate personalities, powered along by the emotive soundtrack. It reminds us a great deal of the equally brilliant World of Goo from 2008, which is a ruddy good thing. It’s dubbed by its creator as a “minimalist game about friendship and jumping” and it’s one anyone can get. So what are you waiting for, you ignoramus? Download it and have fun. That’s an order, soldier! If you’ve not been tempted (or terrified enough) yet, watch the trailer. Innit.
It’s believed penguins survive in their freezing wilderness by wearing a variety of stylish scarves.
It’s winter on Earth which means human beings will be warming themselves with all manner of clothing items. This can mean gloves, mittens, hats, monocles, a pince-nez, a big coat, and two or three pairs of pants. Some folk may refuse to go outside for fear of this stuff called “snow”. Snow is rain which has frozen; it plummets to the ground at 1 million miles an hour and is notorious for wiping out the dinosaurs. Never fear, wearing a hat this winter will fend off the danger.
There also be the scarf, which helps to keep your neck warm and makes for a stylish fashion statement. It’s been researched by dimwitted historians and scientists dat duh scarf probably originated in ancient Rome, where it was used as a kind of sweat cloth. Yes, you heard it here last, the scarf was once used to mop up sweat. We presume everyone must have been very sweaty in the past. Unhealthy gits. In other eras of humanity they were used in armies to reattach severed limbs, block nosebleeds, and no doubt mop up the buckets of sweat everyone seemed to kick up back in t’old days. Around the 19th century everyone stopped perspiring so much and the scarf was used in a way we now take for grunted (*grunt*): as a fashion thing. Indeed, scarves were banished to usage only during cold months. Think about it – when did you last see anyone wear a scarf on a 30 degree day (other than Brad Pitt in World War Z, although it wasn’t technically a full blown scarf)? In many nations, most notably England, wearing a scarf during summer months is a severe breach of law and results in 30 lashes with a sweat drench scarf. So watch it, you hear?
Rejoice, then, the scarf can be used again this December! What made us particularly happy was this information on the official Wikipedia article: “[Scarves] can come in a variety of colours”. Whoever said Wikipedia wasn’t a trustworthy source?