Episode II – The Inferior Second Part
Everything has been leading up to this point.
The revolutionary quest of Noel Edmonds and his sea serpent cohort has claimed many lives and has consumed much dignity, but has it been worth it? Was the death of Jay Leno justified? Was the time travel bit necessary? What exactly is Noel Edmonds?
Read on, reader, and discover barely any satisfying answers.
The Match.com advert is prologue to a horrific tale of lust and bloodlust, argues Stephen Tailby
“Girl on the platform, smile,” drones the man on the other platform. His guitar produces a sound somewhere between a plink and a plonk – plenk? – and the curly, desperate male is a plank.
Initially, I had almost no issues with Match.com’s current advert. It seemed a sweet, silly story about a male who sees a female and endeavours to woo her via the power of music. My only problem with the ad back then was the woman. There was something about her that seemed off. There still is, in fact. The difference now, however, is that I’ve figured it out. I know what it is about her that makes me feel slightly uneasy. And none of it is shown on TV.
But I’ll get onto that a bit later, for I have some complaining to do.
Yet another Deal or No Deal episode succumbs to one of Noel Edmonds’ historical fantasies. Click here for episode one.
Oh, hello you. Welcome. Step inside. Take off that scarf. Remove those boots. Discard that pet dog. Come and wrap yourself in the overbearing warmth of Noel Edmonds’ Luxury Communism.
The first instalment saw Edmonds and his friend, a small leviathan, take to the streets in a bid to destroy capitalism. Jay Leno was killed in the process. But can Noel bring himself to take the life of Captain Lism, King of Great Britain? Can he? Can Noel do that? Can he possibly?
Find out now, perhaps.
This zeppelin, full of film-making skills, sadly crashed on its way to the 'Sucker Punch' set, and the crew had to go without
“Now I’m no history expert – I’m merely a fan – but I’m fairly certain there were no slow-motion upskirt moments during the Battle of the Somme.”
Blindfolded and semi-conscious, I recently stumbled into HMV and picked up a DVD. I threw my money at what I hoped was a staff member and went home to watch it. Unfortunately, I’d just purchased the 2011 film Sucker Punch.
If, say, Michael Caine came up to me in the street and asked me to summarise Sucker Punch in a single sentence, I suppose I’d offer the following collection of words:
“Well, Michael, if a coked-up adolescent Sigmund Freud made a fairly simple tribute to Fight Club, Inception, Kill Bill, and Mean Girls, Sucker Punch would be it.”
We’re live-tweeting the BRIT Awards ceremony from 8PM GMT tonight. Follow @breadandcrows for our shaky coverage.
As some of you possibly know, we – the bread&crows time and space wasters – provided a live commentary of the BAFTA ceremony on Twitter a few days ago. Spewing out approximately twelve idiotic tweets per second, we soon found ourselves colliding with the frankly fascist update limit, and the commentary came to an abrupt end.
We didn’t take this to be a metaphor, though, oh no. In fact, we grew rather enamoured with the idea of being stupid and ignorant on Twitter for hours at a time. It made us feel like celebrities.
So, to distract ourselves from the harsh realities of modern existence, and to selflessly provide you, our dearest reader, with a bit of “five star entertainment” (bread&crows, 2012), we will be taking to Twitter TONIGHT, at 8 o’clock, to narrate the BRIT Awards.
Settle down with your telly and your Twitter, and expect your screen to fill with leagues of unnecessarily cruel, snide, and mocking remarks about various talented artists (by which I mean expect the BRIT nominees to harshly criticise us).
Bring an umbrella.
Chris Jackson cleans his teeth, but not his fingernails, with tablets – but do they actually work?
I like Lush. Lush are a nice company. If you’re not aware of them, Lush are a chain of shops that specialise in fresh and organic handmade cosmetic products, promoting the use of vegetarian ingredients, and only sticking things that are actually needed into their goods. You won’t find preservatives in seventy percent of their products and their packaging is always recyclable, whilst often being made from recycled material itself.
I remember when I was younger I hated even walking past their shops because the smell of all the soap made my nose block up, but my sense of smell must have adapted because I can now walk into their stores and spend at least five minutes in there. Five whole minutes.
Recently, I’ve noticed a growing trend among their products – more and more items are appearing in solid form. A block of shampoo. Solid deodorant. Hard hand cream. Apparently, it’s to save on packaging and to squash more product into less space, but it’s almost as though the shop-owners have an obsessive compulsive disorder, insistent that everything they stock is a solid block. Don’t get me wrong, though. I don’t think this is a bad thing. I like Lush, remember?
On my last visit, I stumbled upon ‘Toothy Tabs‘ – toothpaste in tablet form.
“I wish people didn’t hate me so much,” laments Activision Blizzard’s Bobby Kotick on Valentine’s Day.
02/14/2011, 10am
To my dearest of diaries,
Today is Valentine’s Day! I just love Valentine’s Day, because that’s a lovely thing to love, right?
I caught the eye of Cassandra from PR again. I’m certain that Cassandra and I will engage in pubic relations soon. I left a cheeky Call of Duty-branded card on her desk. The words on the front were great! It said, “I want to Prestige your heart.” Ha! There was a picture of Captain Price holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a live grenade in the other.
bread&crows’ official BAFTA host application, written as stupidly as possible; a few of the things we tweeted whilst watching the British Academy Film Awards.
Hello, dearest reader (you are our favourite).
As you may or may not know, the bread&crows campaign to physically capsize Twitter during the BAFTA ceremony failed, and the website, with all of its 140-character passengers, remained afloat. We did, however, manage to spout a few bullets of liquid wit; by which I mean we did some tweets.
Sure, we lost a couple of followers – perhaps we even drove them to insanity – but it wasn’t all in vain.
The producer of BAFTA-nominated comedy Black Pond, Sarah Brocklehurst, was targeted by one of David Rattigan’s bread&crows outbursts, in which he announced his terrifying plan to marry the poor woman based on the aesthetic value of her last name.
Fortunately, when Brocklehurst came across the proposal, she wasn’t deterred, and proceeded to read through and actively enjoy our coverage of the awards ceremony. She even tweeted to her 590-or-so followers about bread&crows. Well done us, I think. This must be how Edmund Hillary felt on reaching the tip of Earth’s party hat back in 1953.
Anyway, here are a few of the more coherent things we said last night whilst watching the British Academy Film Awards.
We’re live-tweeting the BAFTA ceremony at 9PM GMT tonight. Follow @breadandcrows for our shaky coverage.
For years, the British Academy Film Awards, as hosted by the British Academy of Film and Television Arts (BAFTA), has been the victim of an existential dent. Right there, on its left shin, do you see? The shin of the BAFTA awards ceremony has been hideously bruised due to a subtle lack of something more; a lack of beauty, a lack of intelligence.
But no longer.
Observe as we, the bread&crows gaggle, set fire to Twitter in a storm of BAFTA-focused tweets, punching out the dent in its shin and bringing a crown of glory to its previously flawed head.
By which I mean we’ll be doing a running commentary of the ceremony over at twitter.com/breadandcrows. Join us.
Expect comedy, confusion, and idiots.
Niko Bellic, Hallowe'en 2008, dressed as Barry Chuckle
Watch as we brazenly advertise our social networking outlets using the medium of Grand Theft Auto IV.
Imagine for a moment that you’re Grand Theft Auto IV protagonist, Niko Bellic, but with a better haircut. It’s an average day in Liberty City. You’re squinting at a fuzzy computer screen. There’s an ominous itchy sensation in your bulging Bulgarian ball sack.
A ringing cell fractures the silence. It’s your cousin, Roman.
“Wanna go bowling!” he spurts. “Beeg American titties!”
You utter one of voice actor Michael Hollick’s various pre-recorded responses.
“No way, Roman. Pees orff.”
You crush the phone like a brownie between your teeth.
A collection of white and yellow words ping into view, accompanied by the noise of a sneezing metal bird.
Roman wants you to follow twitter.com/breadandcrows
“I said pees orff!” you groan. “Don’t you know what ‘pees orff’ means?”
You ignore the prompt and continue glaring at the glaring screen. More words.
Roman wants you to follow breadandcrows.tumblr.com
“I want to pierce Roman’s tongue with a metal coathanger, cut off his ears using the hands of a grandfather clock, and throw his limp, aching body off a bridge,” you think aloud, “or whatever it is that angry Eastern Europeans do to their annoying cousins.”
Roman wants you to like facebook.com/breadandcrows
After several moments’ hesitation, an irate blood vessel protruding from your skull, you follow Roman’s instructions.
You are ripped from your seat by an explosion of air, your eyes seared by a great white flash. Hundreds and thousands of in-game trophies and achievements crash through the ceiling, smashing and splintering by your feet. By simply embracing bread&crows’ expansive social networking empire, you instantly complete Grand Theft Auto IV, as well as every other Grand Theft Auto game, including unreleased Grand Theft Auto V, and Crazy Frog Racer, for some reason. Gene Wilder bounds into the room.
“You’ve won, Niko!” he yells. “You’ve won! You did it! You’ve won!”
And so, my friends, imagine for a moment that you’re Grand Theft Auto IV protagonist, Niko Bellic, but with a better haircut. Do what must be done.
