Everybody on twitter (yaa boo, sucks to you) is muttering about the UK Citizenship Test. This is the test that is flung in the face of immigrants with a look of “Go on. How much do you love tedious facts about the UK?”
There’s questions about the number of constituencies we have and the like. Of course, no right minded UK citizen would know that. Only a complete bell-end would.
And so, with people who have lived in the UK roundly failing the test (us included), we’ve decided to make a citizenship test that actually works, filled with questions about things that are unique to this stupid collection of horrible countries and provinces. See how well you fare over the jump, scum.
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Awesome or Off-Putting is a weekly delve into cryptozoology, ufology, aliens, medical marvels, scientific wonders, secret societies, government conspiracies, cults, ghosts, EVPs, ancient artifacts, strange facts, odd sightings or just the plain unexplainable.
Ghosts. If they don’t make the heads of teenage girls spin around while vomiting straight out 100 feet in every direction, we’re not interested. If the ghosts do do that, we’re interested alright, but only from a distance of at least 101 feet.
The story of the Stockwell Poltergeist doesn’t contain an ounce of vomit. We know you’re probably disappointed. Also there are no farts, burps or any disgusting sullying of panties. We’re just being upfront with you here. What it does have is about 20 hours of super strange and noisy goings on.
It also has this sworn statement by six witnesses:
“The above narrative is absolutely and strictly true, iii[sic?] witness whereof we have set our hands this eleventh day of January, 1772.”
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Awesome or Off-Putting is a weekly delve into cryptozoology, ufology, aliens, medical marvels, scientific wonders, secret societies, government conspiracies, cults, ghosts, EVPs, ancient artifacts, strange facts, odd sightings or just the plain unexplainable. Ghosts. If they don’t make the heads of teenage girls spin around while vomiting straight out 100 feet in every direction, we’re [...]
The birth of any child is a wonderful thing… if of course, by ‘wonderful’, you actually mean ‘remarkably irritating’. See, when someone shunts a child from their middle, we’re supposed to treat it like some kind of miracle. Of course, no-one coos and fawns when someone brings a newborn foal into the office, still covered in amniotic gunk.
Childbirth isn’t any bigger or smarter than any other creature squirting out their shitting offspring. It’s dull and further proof that our future as humans is doomed as each baby grows up to be yet another alcopop drinking div in bad Asda George t-shirts.
When celebrities have babies growing in them, it is of even less relevance to us all, yet still we dribble enthusiastically, poised over our keys to tap out feigned glee to twitter accounts and Facebook fan pages. Victoria Beckham’s imminent idiot is one such example.
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When hecklerspray heard the news that Victoria and David Beckham were reportedly coming back to the UK, we all got into the bath in our sticky bedsit and tried to drown each other.
When that didn’t work we even tried to self harm with the jaggy edge off our pot noodle sauce sachet but sadly that failed too and now we’re forced to apply plasters to our hurty bits and find a way to live with this awful news.
So far we’re pretty much sitting in stunned silence which is only broken by the sound of our editor screaming “OH CHRIST! OH JESUS CHRIST NO!!!” like Edward Woodward when his sedatives have worn off.
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America – you had your chance. Had you more respect for the Presley name, had you not referred to her poor father as ‘Fat Elvis’ every three seconds, and perhaps if you hadn’t completely snubbed every single one of her musical attempts, Lisa Marie may have been content to stay within your borders forever.
But no – you all only reminded her that she didn’t have constant access to fish wrapped in newspaper, dreary gray skies or pictures of the queen staring back at her from the face of all the currency in her pocket.
So she’s up and moved to England – and it may or may not have more to do with Scientology than all that other stuff we wrote up there.
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It’s Friday, friend. Relax.
Folded:
- Toy Story 3 (if you’re going to trust us on anything, trust us when we tell you how amazing this is)
- Wasting hours and hours riding about in Red Dead Redemption (horses are ace. Wonder if they make cheap pets..?)
- Toy Story meets The Wire (follow the money, Woody)
- England bashing: football (it’s a national pastime)
- The vuvuzela (annoying? Good, we specialise in that anyway)
Creased:
Across many towns and cities in England, anticipation for the first match of England’s World Cup campaign was building.
Taking advantage of the late kick off, English fans flocked to pubs to guzzle down warm beer and watch the two other games. Then it was time for business – the overpriced replica tops came off as excitement for the game grew. Shouts of “Ingurlund” could be heard for miles around.
Given the honour of broadcasting the game was ITV. Known for only receiving high ratings when X Factor and Britain’s Got Talent is on, this was a major coup for the broadcaster. Of course it would be paramount to ensure that everything went smoothly and without any technical glitches, wouldn’t it? You’d expect so but, in the age of the digital revolution, everything went tits up if you were watching in HD. Perhaps it was karma rewarding those who haven’t forked out thousands on technology they don’t need.
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Football: technically a funny old game. Made more so with ex-England football team manager Steve McClaren, in his new role at Dutch side FC Twente.
The man with a head that is home to a hair island and a face that wears a frighteningly creepy smile at all times has been spotted in the wild at his new job in the Netherlands, attempting to talk to the press.
Now, far be it from us to mock the man, but, well – we had enough ammo to go on before this, and now he’s just gone and set us up for life. He’ll never have to behave like a twit again, he’ll never have to do an awful job as England manager then blame it on everyone/thing else and he’ll never have to talk utter, utter tripe ever again.
Because this clip says everything about Steve McClaren you would ever want it to. The man is clearly deranged – there cannot be any other explanation for his decision to adopt such a stunning ‘Dutch’ accent. He actually sounds like your dad on holiday, trying to talk to a waiter who can only manage broken English.
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