A 2014 university study
in customer complaints
found a general trend
for companies to receive
a spiked increase in complaints
on Valentine’s day.
The authors suggested that
being more abjectly aware
of having no romantic partner,
took to complaining
as a distraction
for their misery.
I was less than impressed
when I read the study.
To me, it was clear
that the spike
could have been
for a variety of reasons,
and the authors were speculating
without sufficient evidence.
I wrote to the university
And I received a reply
three days later
on 17th February.
Every day for the last five years my dad has made our packed lunch for us.
The sandwiches he makes taste like shit. If he spent more time on making the sandwiches instead of illustrating the fucking sandwich bags (that will only be thrown out anyway), then I wouldn’t care so much.
Then again, he gets a great amount of personal joy from taking photos of them and sharing them on the web so that people can think he’s a great fucking dad. Yeah, well done, dad. We’re fucking chuffed at inhaling all that toxic paint and pen shit from your designs instead of, I don’t know, enjoying the actual fucking sandwiches contained inside.
I wouldn’t usually say anything but now that my father is being championed on the web as being the greatest dad ever, I want people to know that he only designed those fucking bags so he could show off to his mates and pretend he’s a caring dad.
Always be wary of people taking photos of their so called kindness. You cannot trust them.
Cancer, cancer, cancer.
Cancer fucking everywhere, these days.
Swab test reveals her susceptibility to cancer.
I might as well remove my fucking prostate now.
The cancer has spread, I’m afraid.
There’s a tumor in your brain.
Cancer of the fucking cancer.
I went to bed praying
to be a crocodile.
They can live forever
and have an immense
And they don’t get horrible shit
The next morning,
I woke up and I was a fucking crocodile
which I thought would be ace
(because I would have my human intellect
but all the benefits of being in a crocodile’s body).
It was actually pretty shit
I tried to fuck a female crocodile
but I didn’t know any of the mating rituals
and the other fellas got proper feisty with me
as a result.
I was also, evidently,
dogshit at hunting prey
because when a documentary
came on my telly about crocodiles,
I turned the TV off
and went up to my room
to watch internet porn instead.
I am now a dead crocodile.
And, in hindsight, I think
I would have rather
just stayed human.
I’ve never loved anyone enough to give them my last Rolo.
The waiter brought
the food over
and placed it in front of me
on the table.
“Do not touch
the plate. It is
I couldn’t help
but want to know
how hot it was.
Then I burnt my hand.
Several years later,
said to me,
fall in love with me.
I will only
I couldn’t help
in love with her.
Then I burnt my soul.
I dreamt we were swimming together, on holiday, somewhere warm. Is it more romantic or less romantic when I tell people you can’t swim in real life?
The supermarket self-checkout machine
tells me I need approval.
I don’t need to be reminded,
and there’s no one left to give it anyway.
This is the last poem
ever written by a human,
and that’s why it’s rubbish.
We all know robot poems
shit on the human ones,
and we’ve never been so superfluous.
I place the blame firmly on Gary Kasparov.
He should have held out a little longer in ‘97.
If Kasparov couldn’t beat them anymore,
what chance did the rest of us have?
The technologists tell us to embrace change
but they say it with their mouth full
and can barely sit upright unaided.
"There’s no need
for creative thoughts anymore,”
"because computers do them better."
Comedians read out a list of jokes
generated in a hundred billionth of the time
it would take for a human to come up
with something vastly inferior.
The audience would laugh hysterically
but they have machines for that now
because laughing and real feelings
are beneath us.
"I finally arrived at my mother’s house, but she didn’t want to see me. The maids told me she no longer lived there. As I was leaving, I could feel a pair of eyes watching me from behind, but I was determined not to turn around. I just wanted to find out what she looked like. Since she wouldn’t give me that chance, I wouldn’t give it to her either."