From the category archives:
A couple of weeks ago we asked you to vote on which of our regular ‘best of the web’ features would survive and live to fight on through the murky world of the World Wide Web.
It was a tough fight and some things were said which neither competitor is particularly proud of but we do have a winner. From this Wednesday, your ‘best of the web’ feature will be…
Enjoy!
It’s Friday and the hecklerspray bedsit has breathed a collective sigh of relief as they’re allowed out into the world to live among functioning humans for a couple of days. Unfortunately, I’m still here as there are Readers’ Letters to be analysed. Still, it’s nice to have a bit of peace and quiet to work. No Mof Gimmers shouting about codpieces, no Sophie Hall shouting at Kris Wood for making a reclining chair out of sausage and no Euan L Davidson, breathing heavily in my ear.
Yes folks, Fridays are the nicest time to be in the bedsit. It’s easier to sit in “the clean chair” and the stale stench of discarded cigarettes and methylated spirits is beginning to lift. Unfortunately, that means that the foetid stench of the hecklerspray post bag is coming through loud and clear.
It stings the nostrils.
God, look at you all.
Sat there in your ostentatious Ivory Towers looking down on us in our hecklerspray hovel as we scrap around trying to pick a living from the meagre bones of underweight celebrities. You sit in judgement of us like a Feudal Lord views his peasants with seeming omniscience.
You sit there with your lucky dip box at the ready, it loaded with randomly generated insults and put-downs designed to make us feel like the lowest of the low, like the dog dirt on the shoe of the internet, like Tim Westwood. Your words are designed to cut, to hurt but are said with the best interests at heart. You want to protect your favourite celebrity because you know- deep down- that they’re too disinterested or stupid to defend themselves.
It’s that time of the week where you’d usually be reading hecklerspray’s look at the best that the whole wide internet has to offer. This week it’s different. This week things are going to get real.
You see, at hecklerspray, we value your feedback. Given that 90% of the time “your feedback” is to aggressively wish death upon us, we’ve grown used to ignoring it and making snide remarks about your sexual profligacy while we hide in the bedsit, cocooned in our wrap-around Virtual Boy-style monitors.
That doesn’t mean we don’t care! That’s why we’re giving you the opportunity to change the way we do things. Do you want to see Webthump brought back from the dead to gnaw at your forgotten corpses with its sharpened teeth of internet funnies or do you want to see The Tumblr Trawler, the most recent incumbent, stay on in its stead.
The winner gets to become our regular Wednesday feature, winning the adoration and respect of every hecklerspray staff member and reader in the process while the loser will be cast down into the fiery pit of heckler Hell with the likes of ‘Celebrity Astronime Domini‘, ‘Creased or Folded?‘ & the long-forgotten ‘Myspace Trawl‘.
The tension is palpable, the consequences undeniable and this needless tension building is only serving to ramp up your fevered excitement at getting to click a button. Look at you. You’re sweating. Calm down.
The choice is yours, dear reader. Change your shirt.
PLACE BETS NOW!
Well, knock us down with a feather. It must be that time of the week again. The time when we force our hands into the stinking, wretched filth that comes into the hecklerspray mailbox.
To give you an idea of what our mailbag actually resembles, allow us to paint you a picture. With words. Imagine taking a bowl of delicious, ripe fruit and writing a series of misguided, offended or just plain idiotic messages on each pieces and then leaving it to rot. Then imagine putting the pulped, putrid remains of the fruit into a plastic carrier bag and leaving it in a very humid room for a couple of weeks.
Every week, hecklerspray is inundated with people who have opinions about us, our lives, our right to do the job we do and the celebrities that we take the piss out of. It’s always delightful to sit and sift through page after page of people telling us that we should be killed or have various parts of our anatomies sheered off by a sharpened snowboard.
Of course, those ones are our favourites and they’re the ones that we keep for ourselves and take to bed with us at night so that the burning hatred of the reader can keep us warm in our cold beds.
These ones are for you…
Happy New Year, you jerk-offs. A lot of you have been snivelling onto us, trying to get us to bring back Readers’ Letters so that you don’t have to trawl through our articles looking for all the nut jobs that believe we’re being serious (which we are, obviously) and to you we say only this.
FINE, JEEZ.
You’re so needy. Look at you, sitting there like overgrown babies desperately waiting to read about all the people that hate us so that you can make a mental note of the kind of thing to bombard us with over the next week.
You’re the worst kind of scum and that’s why we love you. Anyway, for the first time in 2012, let’s take a dive into our putrid postbag shall we?
Readers’ Letters: “This Ignorant Little Twit’s Opinion Doesn’t Matter” Or “A Cacophony Of Verbose Morons”
by Michael Park on February 10, 2012 0 Comments
Our ‘colleagues’ as we laughingly refer to them are actually lawyers who, down on their luck after losing a Tax Evasion case, have rented out the far corner of the bedsit which is sometimes known as “The Fred West Wing”. They look ill. Lawyers always look ill.
Perhaps it’s the smell which is putting them off their writs. The festering stench of the opposite corner, marked out by a laminated card which- in odious Comic Sans- reads “POST”. It’s enough to make anyone sick to their stomach.
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