Because stuff needs talking about.


A (Flappy) Bird In the Hand…

Recently there’s been quite a lot of stuff going on; the most expensive and possibly most anti-homosexual Olympics has kicked off, Philip Seymour Hoffman has sadly departed this world, and, in the celebrity “news” section, Ryan Gosling and Eva Mendes have split, causing a tidal wave of drool to circumnavigate the globe as Goslingites worldwide drift off into steamy daydreams.

Up there competing for valuable social media space though, and somewhat surprisingly I might add, is a rage inducing game with the addictive nature of heroin cut with pure Pringles extract. Yes it’s Flappy Bird; a largely simplistic yet inexplicably hard game where the player guides an incapable bird through a maze of varying, Mario-esque pipes with the objective being…to fly through an infinite number of pipes. It certainly seems that for the public to get hooked on a game, it has to be bird based and fucking impossible.

Another victim of bird rage.

Another victim of bird rage.

I’m happy to admit I’m a bit of a games nerd, I’ve played FIFA games for so long that the majority of real players have retired, and overdone it on Call of Duty to the point that a walk down the street often resulted in assessing objects for their camping opportunities. To cut a long, geeky story short, I expect to be pretty good at games in general, especially ones where the only input needed is to occasionally tap the screen. Surely, a game named ‘Flappy Bird’ where the key objective is, rather obviously, making a bird flap can’t provide much of a challenge to seasoned gamers?

It took me seven attempts to get through one gap, it took me another ten attempts to reach three. After twenty minutes I had managed six, and after another ten minutes it had been deleted after rage had filled my body and left me on the verge of reducing my phone, and it’s infuriatingly flappy contents, to pieces. It raises some issues too, other than how can a pixellated bird which has no ability to fly already be airborne, and also, what’s with all the pipes? No, what it really brings to light is that as a whole, the public is a massive glutton for punishment, on the basis that we can get a couple of ranty and relatable statuses out of it. We will happily put ourselves through the hardship of guiding a wholly dependent blob through a plumbing fiasco in a doomed attempt to complete an endless task, because we know we can get pissed off and vent it all over social networks and be safe in the knowledge that a load of other poor saps will be doing the same and like or share or whatever to show their agreement.
Such is the annoyance level of this game even the creator has had enough and deleted it from the app store. Perhaps it was the relentless internet hate directed towards his avian invention, or simply the constant trips to the bank to deposit his bulging bags of money. Whatever it is, the bird is set to no longer be the word and the world has been freed from its addictive grip, ready to move on to another equally infuriating and tweet generating time-waster.


NekNomination: Being a Lad Goes Viral

As you all have been made aware by a myriad of drunken and badly filmed videos cluttering up your Facebook news feed, a new social media craze has been doing the rounds. It is of course the online drinking game, NekNomination, where people try their best to concoct and imbibe alcoholic abominations in a bit to out-lad each other, and then NekNominate their friends to one-up their effort.

Alcohol + vest = LAD, apparently.

Alcohol + vest = LAD, apparently.

Despite the obvious glorification of booze culture, the irresponsible celebration of reckless alcohol mistreatment, and maybe worst of all the misspelling of neck to make the whole thing “cool” and edgy, my main gripe lies with the terrible promotion of lad culture across the world.

The new viral trend gives air time to those who actually value the ability to down a curdled blend of potent nastiness, an endearing trait you all must agree, in a bid to prove themselves as the next alpha male, and earn them valuable commendations in the form of Facebook likes to help them cement their position. This ability alone is obviously not enough to secure momentary, localised, internet fame though, oh no. The participant’s on screen presence is paramount to the video’s success. To ensure popularity and respect from the lad-osphere the whole video must be treated like their own private reality TV show, only like one of those hybrid reality shows where the people portray a character of themselves which they yearn to be in real life. Basically, each individual must try to be as much like a TOWIE or Geordie Shore pinnacle of manliness as possible, complete with shaved chest, terracotta fake tan, gel drenched quaffed hair, and of course the mandatory white vest and cap uniform.

What is most disappointing about the whole affair is that has been wholeheartedly accepted and enjoyed by an overwhelming number of the online community. The internet has the power to bring awareness to real, important matters, and try to bring about a change for good in an often unjust world. In this case though, the internet as a population has chosen to get behind testosterone-soaked shows of strength and celebrate wanton liver damage.

At least this guy from South Africa had the right idea and used his minute in the public eye to do something useful and worth commending rather than necking a pint with all manner of shit in it (including shit, it actually happened). Hopefully his will be the challenge accepted by others and the next internet craze will be a positive one.

Harry Potter and the Unused Book Titles

We are all familiar with the monumentally successful book series Harry Potter and the subsequent film adaptations which have captured the hearts and minds of children and adults alike since the late nineties.

What you may not know is that, with every release bringing more and more notoriety and the possibility to make some serious wizarding moolah, an almost infinite series started being planned, keeping Harry and his friends in a never-ageing, never-changing magical stasis, while each new title flew off the shelves to the sound of cash registers ringing. The idea was eventually scrapped however, as Rowling realised how much of a contradiction minefield the fictional world would create and was in a meeting with Bloomsbury, was quoted to have said, ‘Fuck that!’

Here at TPCA however, we have managed to unearth a shocking list containing just some of the hundreds of provisional titles that were being held in consideration for this new look, leviathan book series.  We must warn you, it is clear that attitudes towards the nation’s beloved wizard had taken a turn for the worse, presumably as a result of the constant media storm surrounding Rowling and the imminent release of the film adaptations. Some are vicious, others just plain lazy, and some, well they’re just absurd.

So here, finally available for public viewing, is the forgotten list:

Harry Potter and the Effervescing Elf

Harry Potter and the Vandellas

Harry Potter and the Half-Pound Mince

Harry Potter and the Sartorial Disaster

Harry Potter and the Wizarding Occurrence

Harry Potter and the Ghost/Werewolf/Bad Wizard

Harry Potter and the Time Shit Got Real

Harry Potter in the Hood

Harry Potter and the Time He Didn’t Win

Harry Potter and the Disappointing Ending

Harry Potter and the Blood Test Mystery

Harry Potter Goes To Washington

Harry Potter up The Khyber

Harry Potter and Ron’s Dad: An Unlikely Team

Harry Potter and the Need to Prove Himself

Harry Potter and the Penetrative Sex Scene

Harry Potter and the Satisfying Toilet Read

Harry Potter and the Rehashed Plot

Harry Potter and the Muggle Genocide

Harry Potter and the Trip to Alton Towers

Harry Potter Sings the Classics

Harry Potter and the Hate Crime

Harry Potter and the Band of Nerds

Harry Potter and the Suggestive Robes

Harry Potter and His Merry Men

Harry Potter and the Spiked Drink

Harry Potter and the Incredible Likeness of Being

Harry Potter and the Victimless Crime

Harry Potter and the Wand Fest

Harry Potter and the Overzealous Friend

Harry Potter and the Crushing Weight of Expectation

Harry Potter and the Legend of Ron

Harry Potter and the Exile of Ron

Harry Potter and the Seducing of Ron

Harry Potter and the Long, Drawn Out Affair

Harry Potter and the Inevitable Film Adaptation

Harry Potter and the Wizard’s Sleeve

Harry Potter and the Dorm Room Diaries

Harry Potter and the Scandalous Revelation

Harry Potter and the Troubled Boy Comes Good Storyline

Harry Potter and the Unerring Lack of Emotion

Harry Potter and the Taciturn Hand

Harry Potter and the Steroids

Harry Potter and the Burning

Harry Potter and the Inexplicable Reliance on Owls

Harry Potter and the Complete Reading of ‘King Lear’

Harry Potter and the Surprising Omission of English, Maths and Science from the Syllabus

Harry Potter and the Massive Bereavement

Harry Potter and the Banana Hammock

Harry Potter: Neville’s Story

Harry Potter: Hedwig’s Revenge

Harry Potter and the Dutch Rudder

Harry Potter and the Lion, Witch and the Wardrobe

Harry Potter and the Silly Dog

Harry Potter and the Never ending whimsical magic shenanigans

Harry Potter and the Mystery of Ron’s Face

Harry Potter and the Yay or Nay List

Harry Potter and the Viagra Potion Calamity

Harry Potter and the Statutory Rape Trial

Harry Potter and the Chastised Boggart

Harry Potter and the Underwhelming Performance

Harry Potter and the Crippling Adolescence

Harry Potter and the Straight to TV Movie

Harry Potter Unwavering Erection

And Finally:

Harry Potter: My Perfect Sunday

So there you go.  The shocking list of unused book titles from an abandoned money spinning scheme.  We believe that this list has barely scratched the surface and that there hundreds more just like it, hidden away from the public.  It is our duty to uncover the truth and expose what might have been to the world.  If anyone manages to dig out one of these lists of shame, please contact us and we will publish to the world this near literary travesty.

Thank you for reading and please get in touch.

The Difference Between Wright and Wrong.


Well what else would you talk about in the morning?

More often than not, early on a weekday morning, I’m not really too ready to take on the on the kind of debate that is reserved for Friday night’s idiotic chatter with the local, Clarkson brown-nosers down the pub.  Sometimes though, accidentally of course, through bleary eyes I flick on the TV and suddenly a crowd of obstinate and ill-informed self-proclaimed experts appears, spouting nonsense and doggedly rejecting anything that sounds remotely like a differing point of view.  No, it’s not Dave, or news coverage of another incessant political quarrel, it’s Channel 5, and it’s The Wright Stuff.

It seems that there has been some confusion about the role of the panel show when it came to setting up this one.  Surely the idea is to invite a variety of guests representing different sections of societies and viewpoints. Instead, The Wright Stuff plumps for ex-celebrities and the pseudo-famous, basically a selection of irregular This Morning guests and retired minor sports personalities.  To counter-balance the stupidity, a person with a slight grasp on little things like morals and values and even the smallest amount of empathy is drafted in and given the job of buffering the generalisations and ignorance which stream out of the mouths of all around them.  You can almost feel the awkwardness as Anne Diamond bites her tongue and squirms as her fellow panel members regurgitate outdated stereotypes and impossible solutions to issues they don’t have a clue about. I’m almost certain that as she sits there futilely praying for Terry Christian to stop being blasé about everything as a way of avoiding having to respond with anything valid, and watches the glory days of her career dissipate into the ether, buoyed by the fumes from the shit that is being committed to words below.

In the role of mediator we have Matthew Wright who tactfully disperses any tension from the heated debate by dismissing anyone else’s opinion and revealing the ‘right’ view, basically rendering the whole panel section of the show, utterly pointless.  It’s not a problem for a person to air the own personal views, but to smuggle it though as one that has been debated over and then agreed is surely a bit wrong.  After all, any half asleep person who isn’t in work at ten in the morning could be easily susceptible to the subtle suggestions of The Wright Show.  I mean, it’s hard enough not to get involved in the serious topical discussions, let alone such pressing issues such as the infamous, ‘Foxy Knoxy: Would Ya?’ where callers were asked whether they found Amanda Knox, the original suspect in the Meredith Kercher murder case until she was acquitted, or Monday’s quandary of whether Milk Tray has gone down in standard recently.

My personal highlight, and reoccurring feature, of the show is when a poor, unsuspecting member of the home-based audience phones up as requested by Wrighty, only to be barracked and berated for offering their opinion and end up in a petty argument with their favoured host.  Take a look at this for example:

It’s amazing to think that this show still manages to keep people calling in, what with half of the innocent, clueless viewing audience having already been sniped at and cowed by the host and the rest waiting nervously in line like cows outside an abattoir.

But despite this, the show keeps going, the fools keep calling, and the bullshit keeps flowing, fuelling the nation’s skewed pub banter and perpetuating the continuous cycle of bias and single-mindedness which makes Britain, Britain.  You see, there is no difference between Wright and wrong. There can’t be when everything else is dismissed and only the one version of the story is told as the truth.  This is the place where a single opinion is made into fact, and dished out under the guise of the freedom to choose.  Nice one Wrighty.

Anthony Worrall Thompson -The Dramatisation

I’m sure you’ve all heard about Anthony Worrall Thompson getting busted in Tesco for nicking cheese and wine.  What follows below  is a completely accurate sequence of events which have not been doctored or altered in any way (not entirely true):

“Don’t you know who I am?”  He asked derisibly, as he crammed another block in his chinos pocket.

“My face is on that fucking pasta sauce bottle!”  The security guard looked, and then turned back to the man, a shadow of his heady, sauce days.

“I’ve been on the telly,” he whimpered in response to the security guard stern glare.

“We’ve all been on the telly these days mate” replied the guard.  Wozza quivered and sobbed.  The security guard looked awkward and gave a manly pat on the shoulder.

“Do you think they’ll let me do the quick omelette challenge again?” sobbed Anthony through the tears.

“I doubt it mate,” was the response.  That was the last straw for Wozza, the 2005 Crianza rioja slipped from under his coat and shattered on the floor while Tesco looked around in shock.  The lifeblood of Anthony’s career slowly seeped and hid under the shelves, sheltered from the scrutinizing gaze of the celebrity chef world.

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