The key to scoring with women is knowing how to talk to them, once you’ve mastered the art of holding a conversation with a woman without killing yourself or falling into a coma, they’ll let you touch their boobs pretty much whenever you like.

1) First of all, women do not like to be called bitches, they usually prefer Carol or Doreen or Mum. It doesn’t matter which of these you choose, as long as it’s a girl’s name of some sort they’ll probably be happy.

2) All women like to be complimented, so a good way to start a conversation is by saying something nice to them, such as:

• I like your face, it is almost entirely hairless
• Your clothes appear well constructed and hard-wearing
• You have good organisational and decision making skills

3) It’s important to show interest in a woman’s feelings, so you should say “Tell me how you feel right at this moment” at least once every five minutes, if not more. Trust me, they can’t get enough of this.

4) If you are trying to persuade a woman to let you bone her, it’s important to remember that generally speaking women punish honesty and reward deceit.

• Don’t say: “You’re hot and I wish to bone you, how shall we proceed towards this mutually beneficial goal?”
• Do say: “I’m a doctor for kittens and babies and I’ve got my own helicopter* and I live in a castle and I’m totally not trying to sleep with you because I’m gay or something and I just want to be friends so we can spend all day talking about soft furnishings.”

5) Women love being the centre of attention, but much like wild chimpanzees they view direct eye contact as a sign of aggression – you must never look a woman directly in the eyes or she will begin screeching and hurling her own faeces at you. Instead, show the woman that your attention is focused entirely on her by staring directly at her boobs – this will also show her that you like boobs, which she will find reassuring.

6) Women think about chocolate as much as men think about scoring. In order to hold a woman’s attention throughout a conversation you will need to throw a Twix at her head every 45 seconds (approximately). If you run out of Twixes, the conversation will end – the woman will wander off and score with some other guy just to teach you a lesson.

* Nothing turns chicks on more than helicopters. Memorising the specifications of the Apache AH64 attack-chopper so that you can recite them from memory in social situations is guaranteed to get you laid with an endless succession of hot women.

Bint: Ooh look, pretty red shoes! I am a woman and am therefore entranced by shoes, I will stare longingly at them through the shop window.

Shop woman: You wish to purchase these shoes? Ha! I sneer derisively at you.

Bint: Oh no! Shop woman is sneering derisively at me for some unfathomable reason – I will never be able to purchase these shoes without her blessing.

*Removes hat*

Bint: Oops, I forgot – dying my hair gives me the confidence to buy shoes from people who sneer at me. Result! Now I can purchase the pretty red shoes, my shallow and pointless life is complete.

Shop woman: Curses, foiled again! Damn you Clairol!

Coleslaw FACTS!

• Coleslaw is the main active ingredient of Zyklon B.
• People who eat coleslaw often have small penises, especially if they are women.
• Coleslaw related accidents claim the lives of over 7 orphans per month.
• Coleslaw side-dishes at state banquets cost the British taxpayer £17 million per year.
• 10% of the profits from all coleslaw sales are donated to a secret charity which gives free toys to children. But only really rich people’s children.

Little Girl A: “Dad… It’s time…”

Little Girl B: “We think you’d be a really nice catch for somebody.”

Little Girl A: (Holding up a bottle of ‘Just for Men’ hair dye) “Pleeeeeease…”

Dad: “Nice try girls, but you know I’m not ready to move on yet. Now go and wait for me in the basement, and here, put these on…” *hands each of the girls a wig made from dead wife’s hair*

At two hours and forty minutes this is a lengthy film – fortunately, however, the brief hint of retro nineteen twenties girl-on-girl action takes place towards the beginning, leaving you free to go for a slash about halfway through while they’re covering all the blah about Doctor Manhattan getting tachyons stuck up his nose or whatever.

It was inevitable that by adapting a masterwork such as Alan Moore’s Watchmen graphic novel to the big screen, much of the nuance and complexity of the story would be lost, and the film leaves us with several unanswered questions, such as: “What the hell is that weird cat thing? Where did that come from? Did they explain it while I was having a slash?” and “Shit, that was nearly three hours! Have we still got time to go to the pub?”

Jesus did not have a girlfriend. I bone chicks all the time. Seriously, I mean all the time – I’m boning a chick right now. Sometimes I accidentally bone chicks without even noticing. I’m so good at it that I can even bone chicks without them noticing either.

Jesus was a carpenter. Loser. I work in an office, with computers and the internet and a pension plan and free muffins on Wednesday.

Jesus died when he was 32. I am 33 and a half and still not dead.* In your face, Messiah!

Jesus did not have a 37 inch high definition LCD TV. Sometimes I just stare at my TV for hours on end without even switching it on because it’s just so awesome to behold. Also, I couldn’t find the remote.

Jesus wore sandals. Dork. I’ve got a wicked pair of Vans.

Jesus was the son of God. Fair enough. But my dad could probably be an omnipotent deity if he wanted. You know, if he gave up the booze and got out of the house a bit more often.

*Except on the inside, obviously.

Fortunately Ray Winstone shows up to sort this shit out, and you can tell he’s serious because he doesn’t even bother trying to fake a Scandinavian accent when he yells: “Oy, Grendel, you fackin slaaag!” before giving the monster a sound beating with a couple of snooker-balls in a sock before porking its mum, who takes on the form of Angelina Jolie in order to seduce him.

Once the porking has concluded, Angelina spawns a half demon, half human beastie which turns into a dragon and starts to freak out the Kingom all over again. To start with, Ray’s all like “Fack’s sake, I’m retired you fackin cant!” but nobody else can be arsed to do anything because they’re all busy watching the final of Celebrity Wank Factor on TV, so he has to give the dragon a beating by himself.

Unforutunately the dragon is so pissed off with Winstone’s stupid cockney accent, that he takes the flabby bastard down with him. And then I went home and had a long hard think about what I’d learned from the story. I think the most important lesson we can take from Beowulf, is that fathering a terrifying monster who wants to destroy your entire kingdom is a small price to pay for the chance to pork Angelina Jolie.

In entirely unrelated news, this is a website about free open source software.

Bridget Jones’s Diary is a depressing film about a spoiled, whiney bitch whose biggest problem in life is deciding whether to screw a Rich Womanizing Bastard or a Rich Mommy’s Boy, so of course she screws both of them. Obviously she picks the Rich Womanizing Bastard first, and then acts all surprised when he turns out to be a Womanizing Bastard, before jumping into bed with the next rich guy she can get her hands on. The moral of this story: Nice guy gets the girl, but only after she’s exhausted all other options.

Romantic comedies feature just two types of men:

The Bumbling Nice Guys will generally be forced to jump through endless hoops to prove that they’re worthy of the female character’s affections, while all the time she’s threatening to get together some other guy – if Bumbling Nice Guy can’t get his act together, then she can’t be expected to wait around forever. Real Life: Bumbling Nice Guy jumps through all the necessary hoops, Girl realises she loathes him for being so pathetic and easy to manipulate, goes off with other guy anyway. Bumbling Nice Guy spends the rest of his life hearing: “But you’re such a nice guy, I can’t understand why you’re single”

Womanizing Bad Boys will usually be shown that their life of constant one night stands and partying is hollow and unfulfilling, when all they really need is the love of a good woman and a nice steady relationship. It’s the standard “I can tame him” bitch fantasy. Real Life: Womanizing Bad Boy pretends to change in order to score with the Girl, within a few months he’s fucking her best friend.

I’m not sure what I hate most about romantic ‘comedies’ – the constant barrage of shitty jokes, or the stupidly unrealistic picture they paint of relationships, people and the world in general.

About a Boy
Hugh Grant plays a guy who has a pile of money and a great bachelor lifestyle, he spends his time lounging around at home and in upmarket bars, and scoring with an endless stream of hot chicks. Throughout the course of the film he learns that this life is shallow and empty, thanks to the intervention of a young boy from a broken home. Real Life: Hugh tells the kid to fuck off and stop hassling him, spends the night snorting coke off the cleavage of a hot 19 year old art-student to take his mind off any lingering doubts about his choice of lifestyle.

Notting Hill
Hugh Grant plays a guy who works in a book store – one day he accidentally spills juice all over a famous Hollywood actress played by Julia Roberts, they fall in love. Real Life: No matter how rich they are, women do not ever fall in love with men who have less money than they do. Julia Roberts would either sue Hugh Grant for spilling the juice on her, or just have her bodyguards beat him into a bloody pulp.

Four Weddings and a Funeral
Hugh Fucking Grant plays a guy who keeps bumping into the same attractive, single woman at his friends’ weddings – they fall in love. Real Life: Weddings are depressing and shit, you never meet anybody who is single and interesting. Usually you just get shit-faced to cope with the unimaginable horror of it all and somehow end up with a bowl of jello on your head. Or maybe that’s just me. Either way – it’s all a steaming pile of monkey-shit.

Seriously, for most of this film I didn’t have a fucking clue what was going on, it was even worse than Syriana. To make things worse, the director used the standard ‘dark moody thriller’ technique of having the lead characters mumble all the way through the film, just to make extra sure nobody can understand the ridiculously convoluted storyline.

It’s not all bad though, this film has the most girl-on-girl action I’ve seen in a mainstream film recently. In one scene there’s a whole nightclub full of hot lesbians totally going for it with each other, which to my mind elevates The Black Dahlia above most of the dross spewing from Hollywood these days. If only more directors understood the value of adding hot slippery lesbian action scenes to their films – it certainly would have improved Syriana, not to mention the LotR trilogy: “Gosh master Frodo! Look yonder, Liv Tyler and Cate Blanchett giving each other a good tonguing! I’ll fetch Gandalf, he’ll want to see this.”

Perhaps the most disappointing aspect of The Black Dahlia is that despite all this girl on girl action, I didn’t get to see Scarlett Johansson getting it on with Hillary Swank, which was something of a missed opportunity if you ask me. I’m not asking for a full on fisting scene, just a little playful spanking in their underwear would have been enough…

Score 2/5

Ninjas: 0
Pirates: 0
Breathless, panting teenage lesbians writhing around nekkid together: 73