Back!, with a vengeance

Oh woe upon us all, His Almighty Squirrelness has been away for what has felt like an eternity to the faithful. He had a bit of a backlog of other universes to create, so had to devote some time to that... curse those string theorists with their multi-dimensional multiverses. Did they ever think of the extra work Squirrelmungous would have to put in when they formulated all these (as yet unproven) theories that demand an infinitude of universes? Evidently not.


But worry not dear acolytes, for he is back and wishes to bestow more of his wisdom upon us.


All hail his furry tailed wonderfulness. ALL HAIL! Amen.


It has come to our great Lord's attention that a number of apostates have dared to question the One True Squirrel. Squirrelmungous cannot abide this any longer and wishes his displeasure to be known amongst the people.

He is particularly incensed by the cult, for want of a better word, of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. Squirrelmungous would like you all to know that the FSM is a Giant Fraud (gasp)!

Here are some Squirrelmungous endorsed FACTS about the FSM;

• The FSM did not create the universe.
• The FSM's noodly appendages are not touching the faithful, or manipulating scientific research, or anything else.
• The FSM is a fraud and a charlatan who could no more create the universe than he could pass off as a viable vegetarian meal.
• The FSM has never, not once bought a round in his entire miserable cheapskate existence, and for that reason alone, is no friend of Squirrelmungous.
• The FSM suffers from debilitating and chronic halitosis

However, he acknowledges that the FSM has some pretty impressive merchandise for sale and respects his entrepreneurial spirit.

Here endeth the lesson about the FSM, for now.

Squirrelmungous was thinking about debunking the myths surrounding many of the other false deities, but a lot of their followers have no sense of humour whatsoever, so He's not going to bother at present.

Squirrelmungous on sport

Squirrelmungous loves sport, unless it's stupid pointless sports like golf, horse racing and other noncey stuff that he can't think of right now, but reserves the right to strop about as and when he remembers.

Anyhoo, he loves proper sports, like football. Right now he's jolly pleased that those funny little Isrealis (perhaps not so funny if you're a Palestinian suffering in Gaza or the West Bank, but hey ho) completely took everyone by surprise and beat Russia, allowing England another opportunity to fluke qulification to Euro 2008.

He was somewhat torn between wanting England not to qualify, thereby allowing for a full spleen-vent about the utter incompetence of Steve "fucking fucktard" McClaren, and really hoping they'd still get through so the summer of '08 has some meaning. Now that it looks like they have a chance, he's really looking forward to the game against Croatia.

Although Squirrelmungous is the one true God and the creator of all things... including Croatia, he still wants England to win. Of course.

Squirrelmungous says; "C'mon England!"

He also says; "If that bunch of overpaid fucking ponces fuck up yet again, it'll be lasers up the fucking wazoo for the lot of 'em."

He also says that football would be even more exciting if the teams looked like this...

So that's football taken care of. He's also a big fan of motor racing, as are all squirrels of course. They love watching those dashing young men pushing their technologically extreme vehicles to the absolute limit lap after lap. The modern day jousting in cars that push the envelope in the fields of aerodynamics, combustion, chassis and suspension design, ultra-lightweight materials, fuel and tyre technology. The multitude of racing circuits; from the tradition of Monaco, Spa and Monza to the latest track designs in China and Dubai. The glamour and excitement as the F1 circus rolls around the world pausing for a weekend at the most exotic locations (and Silverstone). The stars, the pit girls, the pundits and the fans.

Plus, they fucking love it when there's a big crash. That's the best bit. Like finding a whole stash of hazelnuts that you'd completely forgotten you'd buried and tucking in with a big fucking smile on your face.

Here's another gratuitous pic of the sort of football Squirrelmungous wants to see more of...

Grammar and such and such

Squirrelmungous is really disappointed that I, quite blasphemously, questioned his grammatical skills in a previous post.

In fact, bad grammar is a bit of a bugbear of his, so let's look at some more of the things that get on his tits... for a change.

For a start, saying 'I will try and do something' is completely nonsensical. You will, in fact, try to do or say or whatever. This is grammatical laziness of the highest order, though unfortunately everyone seems to do it nowadays. Even Alan Bennett, we are ashamed to report, sigh.

You might think Squirrelmungous is being a bit anal here, or is even, dare one say the word, wrong!

But if we think about it for a second we can see that, as always - being omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent and all that - he's got it bang on. Let's look at an example, shall we? Here's a common use of the type of word usage in question:

"I will try and complete that work tomorrow."

In this context 'try' has exactly the same meaning as 'attempt' or 'endeavour'. The speaker is saying, in essence, that he/she will do their best to complete the task, but cannot be sure that they will be succesful. But, if we replace 'try' with either of these two alternatives we can see that the sentence loses its desired meaning;

"I will attempt and complete that work tomorrow."

"I will endeavour and complete that work tomorrow."

If the above sentences mean anything, they are basically saying that the speaker will attempt the task and then complete it, in which case the word 'attempt' or 'endeavour' or 'try' is rendered meaningless, because the task will be completed.

Only by replacing the 'and' with 'to' will the sentence make grammatical sense and the meaning be clear.

Ok' so let's all try and get this right from now on.

FZZZAP

Ow, fuck. Bloody lasers.

Squirrelmungous wants us all to try to get this right from now on and, as an incentive, has permitted me to post a morale boosting image by way of thanks in advance. Admittedly, this is more of a morale booster for his male followers rather than the laydeez, but ho hum.

Our Lord's thoughts on Princess Diana, on the heartbreaking occasion of the 10th anniversary of her death

'Tis 10 years now since the Princess of Hearts, the People's Princess, the Shining Light of Vacuous Non-Entitiness was cruelly torn from our collective bosom. How have we managed to cope without her wisdom, her beauty, her all-pervading wonderfulness in the intervening years?

With the greatest of ease, that's how.

Squirrelmungous was never more ashamed to be associated with 'Great' Britain than he was in September 1997, when it seemed that a large proportion of this nation decided to indulge itself in the most incomprehensible display of mass hysteria and wanton fucking stupidity since god knows when.

Let's do a quick recap on the 'tragic' and 'suspicious' events of that autumn, shall we? This was a relatively attractive, yet none too bright woman who deserved some pity for having to bear Prince Charles two kids (well maybe one... Harry carrot top's a bit of a doubt) who'd let herself go to seed a bit (that swimsuit pic shows her to be a bit fatty, not bloody pregnant) and who had somewhat fallen off the radar.

She hooks up with Dodi - no George Clooney, but minted and clearly an improvement over the jug-eared and mentalist ex, and they're involved in a horrible car crash in Paris and subsequently die. All quite sad, but hey ho, what are you going to do: you get into a big Merc with a pissed up driver and race the paps through Paris and whoops, who put that bloody great concrete post slap bang in the middle of the road...?

Next thing we know, central London is carpeted in flowers and an entire nation appears to have completely lost the fucking plot. Squirrelmungous watched the news with a growing sense of disbelief as thousands of people who had never, ever met this woman and evidently knew fuck all about her wept and wailed about their terrible sense of loss. What exactly did they lose? A few column inches in Hello every week or two? The prospect of more floppy-necked heartwrenching and scandalous interviews with Martin Bashir? A shocking and compelling expose of Royal hatred and hypocrisy in some ghost-written "my side of the story" autobiography? Or perhaps she was just about to single-handedly remove every land mine in Cambodia, cure AIDS and solve world poverty in one fell swoop? Tragically, we'll never know. Although, I'd suggest that the landmine, AIDS and poverty solving bit is a little unlikely.

Three intelligent and well adjusted people ponder the futility of all existence, while at the same time wondering if Will Carling was as good a shag as they'd like to imagine.

Anyhoo, sixty squillion people line the route for her funeral jaunt, having camped on the street for 6,000 years to get a front row spot, her brother (Charles Spencer, what a remarkably wonderful man) spurts out some pointless vitriol and then Dodi's completely hatstand - but outrageously rich - dad says it's all a giant conspiracy and that Prince Philip had his son and Diana murdered. Also, the Royals are actually this lizard race that are plotting world domination, in league with the Isrealis and CarpetRight, and the only way to stop them is to go on and on and on and on about it FOREVER, and to put up a really tasteful statue in Harrods, where everyone should shop, for the sake of world freedom and in tribute to the spirit of Dodi and Diana who were the last great hope of humanity etc. I think that's the gist of it.

So, the French police and the British police investigate and both conclude that the driver was tanked, the car was going too fast and everybody should just give themselves a fucking slap and get on with the rest of their lives.

As if.

Ten years later, and we still have to put up with all of this colossal stupidity.

Squirrelmungous says; ENOUGH. If Diana was alive today, she'd probably be on the X Factor panel instead of Danni - I used to be hot, but now I look faintly frightening - Minogue, so perhaps it's really for the best that she got intimately acquainted with a slab of Parisian concrete on that balmy September evening. Amen.

Stuff that's getting on Squirrelmungous's tits- 1

The Lord Squirrelmungous is proper hacked off with a bunch of stuff in the world today, and he wants you to hear all about it.

So, every once in a while he's going to get me to write it down (he's way too busy to do it himself. Plus his claws make a nasty mess of the keyboard and his grammar is, quite frankly, appalling.) He doesn't expect it to make a blind bit of difference - that'd really be asking way too much of his creation after all. But, he needs to let off steam sometimes, otherwise it's out with the lasers and the smiting and so forth and it all gets a wee bit messy.

So, you say, what's upsetting our mighty squirrel creator today?

Here's a little list;

• When FTV says there's going to be 15 minutes of Lingerie at 8.30 and it's NOT ON. That fucks him off big style
• Not being able to find the new Nuts channel on Sky. He's expecting detailed analysis of the relative merits of brazils, macadamias, almonds etc from this channel and he's not happy he can't find it
• Fat people who blame everything in the world - other than the fact that they won't stop shovelling pies into their gobs - for their gross obesity. For fuck's sake JUST EAT LESS and TRY SOME FUCKING EXERCISE
• "100 Greatest Whatever" programmes, "What's Hot, What's Not" lists... in fact all stupid lists - I mean what's the fucking point?
• Excessive and totally unnecessary use of expletives
• Self indulgent blogging (pseudo intellectual, self congratulatory cyber masturbation)

That 's it for now...

Who is Squirrelmungous?

He is, to put it simply the ONE TRUE GOD.

He has laser eyes to strike down the unbelievers... that would be you probably.

Anyhoo, here's a picture of the great squirrelmungous smiting down unbelievers and profaners.

Look at those lasers. This isn't one of your stupid 'faith based' religions, pal. This is for real and here's your proof. Are you scared now? Have you begun to repent for your years of ignorance and false idolatory?

Squirrelmungous may forgive you. For he is mightily benificent. Just make sure to call out 'Hail squirrelmungous!' whenever you see one of his earthly avatars - that would be a squirrel right - and don't forget to 'donate' some tasty nuts and seeds and stuff to these avatars as and when you get the chance. Don't give 'em Wotsits though. Makes 'em a bit fat.