About Me

On a mission to spam the spammers. With spam.

Wednesday, 17 December 2014

BBC News

I decided to write to BBC News, they have a section on their website which says 'Have you got a good story?' so i sent them this:

Hi there,

I wanted to write to you and inform you of the funny goings on round our way recently. I live on a peaceful street in the middle of the lovely village of Castleford in the North of our great country. Well, i had some building work done a while back (a new work space in the back garden for my husband’s pottery business) and although myself and Enoch (my husband) were relatively happy with the results there have been some decidedly odd 'happenings' since the structure was erected. It was Enoch who first noticed something a bit ‘rum’ in the back garden. As he went out to his new ‘pottery palace’ (that’s what he calls it. I suggested ‘potters juicy flaggonwazzock’ but he didn’t like it, he never likes anything I suggest! Like when I suggested we call our son ‘Bermuda’ he kicked up a right fuss, I said ‘Enoch you’ve got to get with the times! It’s trendy to call your children names that aren’t names!’ but he wouldn’t have it, the shit) now where was i? Oh yes, he went out to the ‘pottery palace’ but as he approached the door he noticed a strange purpley-blueish glow emanating from the window. He peered through and was shocked to see two of those grey big eyed alien thingies smearing their galactic faeces all over his potters wheel and were in the process of moulding it into a giant effigy of Lionel Blair! Well, he ran back inside all flummoxed like and started trying to tell me but he was mumbling and incoherent so I kicked him in the balls real hard and told him to get a bloody grip! After he finally gathered himself he told me about the space freaks but I said ‘you daft old bastard they int no spacemen int shed!’ and I went out me sen to investigate. Well, he were right weren’t he! Only when I got there they were pissing in each others mouths the dirty bleeders so I chased em off with a garden hoe! That night we sat and chatted about our strange visitors and the following day I phoned our builder friends to see if they knew what was going on.

Well, turns out the builders we hired have only gone an installed an inter-dimensional galactic portal at the back of the pottery palace! And it’s true, since that first scatological incident we’ve had aliens fighting in their pants on me back lawn, they’ve been riding round on Enoch’s big lawnmower pissed up off cheap cider, and worst of all last week I caught em gang-raping a poor hedgehog on me back porch! You should of seen his poor little hedgehog face, a mixture of deep shock and excruciating pain with just a hint of awe and wonder. I tell yer, I were right back ont phone to the builders! ‘Look you lot’ I said, ‘look you lot, we never wanted no inter-dimensional galactic portal in our outhouse let alone any sex-crazed alien freaks so you best get round here and get rid or else I’ll set our Tanya on you and she’s built like a brick shithouse with a black belt in carrot cake so BE WARNED!!!!’

Well I’m pleased to report that they did indeed come and get rid of the inter-dimensional galactic portal and since Monday we’ve not had sight nor sound of them pissy grey flannel-faced bastards. Which brings me nicely to the point of this correspondence: now the pottery palace is alien-free once more I was wondering, can you feature it on Grand Designs?? Or if not can you just get Kevin McCloud to come round our house and service my manky twot? He’ll have to spit in it first though, I dried up in me 70’s.

Yours sincerely,

Brian Milm (Mrs)

Monday, 8 December 2014


I've had numerous problems with my new HTC phone so this is more of a genuine complaint letter than a spam type thing but i figured it belongs here anyway. I sent this as a proper letter through the post but i also found an email address so have sent it there too. P.S. don't ever buy a HTC One M8, they are shit.

                                                                                 5, The Windpipe Rotary Club,
                                                                                 Church Fenton,

Dear HTC,
I am writing to you in order to convey my undying gratitude for your most recent smartphone, the HTC One M8. I purchased mine 6 months ago and just had to share with you the multitude of joys I have experienced since that day. Consider this letter the literary equivalent of a slow and considerate ego-wank off an Egyptian prossie dressed as Cleopatra with a milk moustache. Yes, the phone is THAT good! Let me count the ways…

1.       The main thing I love about your new phone is the ‘stunning’ HTC ‘Blink Feed’, a feature which shows me customisable content from my social media and browsing history. Now correct me if I’m wrong but this felt to me like having some annoying cunt (Eamon Holmes springs to mind) rifle through my bins every week pulling out random packaging and saying “Here, you had beans last Wednesday do you want beans again this Wednesday I bet you do. And you know Malcolm, the guy you vaguely know from that course you were on three years ago he had beans last Wednesday too but he got indigestion shall i tell you all about it?? Don’t look away though here’s more useless information that you just can’t bear to miss even though the actual app it has come from is a mere 5mm away from your thumb and to access it would literally take less effort than scratching your arse, but NO you must have it bombarded at you constantly ‘cos you might miss something!!!!” Also, not sure why it’s called Blink feed either, as ‘Blink’ implies a fleeting encounter with something, quite literally a ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ kind of deal. Your ‘feed’ however remained in my eye vision in spite of some major blinking on my part in an attempt to get it to fuck off from my home screen every time I opened the bastard phone.  Alas, I feel you should change its name to ‘Nope, still here’ feed. In keeping with the pointlessness of this waste of screen space I’m assuming your next phone will have a ‘home screen info home screen’ screen which tells you what’s on your fucking home screen all without having to visit your home screen?
2.       Speaking of ‘amazing’ features on the HTC One M8 I just love the way you’ve made the touchscreen so bloody sensitive it’s like you’ve actually incorporated a bona fide ‘ghost in the machine’ that accesses random apps while the phone is in my pocket. Such a useful feature! It is often the case that I’ll be thinking to myself “I really fancy very nearly placing a bid on a pair of skis via my ebay app but can’t be bothered to take the phone out of my pocket do so” and then finding out much later that my phone had read my mind and done just that very same thing without me lifting a finger! Or maybe I’ll be in a meeting at work and I need something to make me look a proper cunt and my phone will magically launch the music player and start playing random music from my playlist, you know something very appropriate for a meeting with fellow professionals such as NWA’s ‘To Kill A Hooker’ or perhaps the 2-Live Crew’s ‘Me So Horny’? True story. Of course this could be remedied by buying a case for said phone and why not ‘cos after just spending a bunch of money on a piece of ‘state of the art’ technology the next thing I want to do is spend more fucking money on it!

3.       I really like that there’s cohesion between all the features on this phone in that they all adhere to the obvious theme of ‘utterly pointless’ that was clearly in the design brief, which brings me neatly on to the camera. That u-focus thing where you can refocus a picture after taking it is genius for a start. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve taken a picture and focussed on the things in the foreground only to realise afterwards that what I actually meant to do was focus on that grubby old man in the distance fiddling with a seagull. Now I can enjoy the crisp splendour of a bird-rapists flabby cock without having to re-take the shot! Also, I love that the front facing camera is specifically for ‘selfies’ and that you’ve made it far shittier than the not-so-great-itself main camera on the back because let’s face it anyone vain enough to take selfies would of course want a grainy poor quality picture to show off their grotesque insecure pouting.

4.       You know what else is wonderful? The HTC file manager that lets me put music and other media content on my phone via my computer. Or rather, lets me put music and other media content on my phone providing I don’t want to do anything else at the same time like maybe listen to a track before I decide whether I want it transferring or not. It’s so great that you’ve made the application so user unfriendly that it cripples itself if I have the audacity to want to hear a track whilst transferring files. “Hmm, can’t remember what this track goes like. I’ll just press play while these other tracks transfer……(nothing happens for 2 full minutes, screen freezes, I get sick of waiting so decide to press the stop button in the vain hope that maybe that will make the fucking thing work again but no nothing happens so I wait for  another full minute when finally the track I originally wanted to listen to comes on so, infuriated, I press stop again but have to wait another full minute until the song actually stops by which time my knuckles have taken a pounding from punching the fucking wall in sheer frustration)…..oh fuck it who wants music on their phone anyway???”.

 5.       Emails are a pain aren’t they? I hate the way they conveniently reduce the need for paper waste, and the simplicity of the Hotmail interface is a constant chore. Thank fuck for the HTC One M8 then, which, after a trip to your repair department now refuses to log me into the email app. Huzzah! I never wanted to be able to check emails simply, it’s much more pleasurable to have to load Hotmail via the web browser and fiddle about with the screen magnification every time I want to see what the manager of Burkina Faso Bank has left me in his will!  And how about wifi?? That ‘secret feature’ you put in where the phone will for no apparent reason stop connecting to the wifi in my house is absolutely amazing. Sorry, did I say ‘amazing’? I meant ‘shit’.

6.       Finally, I’d like to praise your ground-breaking customer service. I went to America once, years ago, and what struck me was just how bloody insincere everyone sounded. It’s all syrup-coated small talk like “Have a nice day sir” and “Can I help you with that sir?” and “Is there anything else I can do for you sir?” all the while showing perfect teeth and smiling like Bonnie Langford on speed. Thank fuck we have things like the HTC customer service hotline in good old bolshy England. Not for me this being spoken to like an actual human being with feelings and genuine grievances, oh no. I want to be told I’m lying by a Croatian youth with a lisp. I want fobbing off with blunt responses to reasonable requests to speak to a manager along the lines of – Me: “May I speak to someone in higher authority please?”….HTC staff: ”No”….Me: “No, but really, you must have a manager there that I can speak to could you put them on please?”…..HTC staff: “No”….Me: ”Ok then can you put me through to your repair centre so I can speak with someone there about the problem please?”…..HTC staff: (slight pause for dramatic effect) “No”. You should be rightly proud of the stand your staff take against the most basic of human niceties. Fuck customer service, I want to be spoken to rudely by someone with only a rudimentary grasp of the English language. I want to be sent emails charging me 80 quid for a hardware fault that I had nothing to do with and then bombarded with further emails telling me ‘what a great phone the HTC One M8 is!’ while patronisingly asking me for feedback as I’m ‘such a valued customer’. You utter twats.

It really is such a ‘special’ phone the One M8 (who thought of that name by the way, did you pay a drunk tramp in cider to come up with it? “Only ffuckkin ONE MATE carnt yer gerrus TWO??”). It is often said that through adversity we become stronger, and without challenges to face our lives are meaningless and lack purpose. So thank you HTC, your phone really is the perfect thing for reminding us that life isn’t a bed of roses but if we stick through the tough times we’ll reap the rewards (like when my contract is finally up and I can throw this heap of shit in the bin and get a different one. Something with better features. Two cans on a piece of string for instance). And if I ever get too comfy with how life is going or I begin to think that humankind might actually be worth something I can always ring your ‘customer service’ department and be brought crashing back down to earth by a rude, obnoxious teenager.

Yours Sincerely,
Niesche xxx  

Wednesday, 1 October 2014

Direct Line Insurance

Due to the fact that big companies no longer provide a contact email address I've had to do this the old fashioned way and send them an actual letter. I've provided them with my email in case they way to reply but I won't hold my breath. Here's what I wrote to them:

                                                                               1, Parma Violet Avenue

Direct Line Insurance
The Wharf,
Neville Street,
Leeds LS1 4AZ

Dear Sir/Madam,

I was overjoyed to see your recent advertising campaign on the telly in which you have co-opted the 'Mr Wolf' character out of that film by that man with the big chin. It's so lovely to see such a well respected and, dare I say, 'cool' character appointed as the face of an insurance company. Major kudos for that fictional coup homies! The fact that said fictional character is a foul-mouthed, impolite odd-job man who associates with criminal kingpins and two-bit hitmen who murder people for fun is neither here nor there! In fact, as insurance companies are essentially in the business of racketeering anyway, due to the fact that they not only force customers into paying an excess regardless of the huge amounts of money they pay in over the years, and if you so much as dare to make a claim against all this money your premiums skyrocket faster than a cat in a bucket of tramps' sick, he's the perfect match! So, with this in mind I have some suggestions for future advertising campaigns involving 'cool' fictional characters, all tailored to the different types of insurance you offer (i'm so fucking good to you guys!).

Home: how about Freddy Kruger the crispy-faced dream fiddler? Not only does he invade your home but your head too! “1, 2 Freddy's coming for you......3, 4 better lock your door........or alternatively sign up to Direct Line Home Insurance! He might make your dreams living nightmares but at least your building and contents will be safe!”

Car: Now, i've thought long and hard about this one as it's tricky. There are the usual suspects of Steve McQueen's character out of Bullit, or Nicolas Cage's idiot from Gone In 60 Seconds, but even though they both drive cars they're not really in keeping with the total criminal scumbag image you're trying to embrace. With this in mind I thought the ideal candidate would be Vincent Vega, Mr Wolf's friend from Pulp Fiction! There's a bit where he drives a car so it's relevant and he ticks all the 'cool scumbag' boxes! Murderer: check! Reckless driver: Check! Heroin addict: check! Violent psychopath: check! Who better to ensure you get all that cool-by-association kudos than a piss-poor actor trying to capture 'effortless cool' but instead coming across as a lethargic moron with about as much menace as a piece of toast?!

Pet: Jefferey Dahmer. Now, strictly speaking he's not a fictional character. I know. Sorry. But he did start off his killing career by murdering dogs in the woods behind his parents' house so he certainly fits the 'unsavoury' theme you've got going on, and those dogs were probably pets to someone so it's all good no? Plus he's got mad charisma! How else do you think he enticed all those fellas back to his flat for sex and cannibalism?? Just think, the young, suave and handsome Dahmer casually dragging a dog off into the woods, his weedy thin moustache twitching abnormally while the voice over talks in a menacing way about 'keeping your pets safe' and repeating sinister cliches like 'you wouldn't want anything bad to happen would you...'.

Travel: The 9/11 bombers. Again, not fictional but thanks to the amount of column inches dedicated to those guys over the years, they're bordering on fucking mythological! Slogan could be something like, I dunno, “Our travel insurance is 'planely' the best” or “We can't offer you 72 virgins, but we can offer 7.2% no claims bonus after 2 years!”.

Life: Now this one's a surefire winner. You ever seen that movie Faces of Death?? The one with all the real life footage people being dead and that?? (Of course you didn't you’re probably just a 19 year old intern whose favourite movie is fucking Dodgeball). The narrator was a guy called Dr something or other, here's a picture of him:

Look at that sinister beard! If ever a facial hair arrangement screamed 'socially inept animal rapist' then this is it! Look how he's got one side of his collar out and the other side tucked in! And in spite of his smart attire the look on his face suggests that he thinks he's naked! He’s a walking erection in a suit! He'd be perfect to lecture your potential customers on the likelihood of their impending demise whilst slowly undressing, never for one minute taking his eyes from the camera. You could end with him saying “Trust me, i'm a doctor” as he advances towards the screen...

So, if that doesn't whet your creative palette then nothing will. I don't want any money for these ideas by the way, even though they are incredibly high quality and so very well thought through. No, instead the mere feeling of warmth from knowing i'm helping a culturally blind corporate organisation gain some much needed kudos so their executives can swan about pretending to be 'cool' for a couple of weeks is sufficient for me.

Peace out brothers and sisters of ripping people off insurance,
Niesche x

Well bugger me with a fridge, i got a reply! It's a bit weird though and smells a bit spammy, though the contact details seem legit. My reply is below it:

From: segun.alayande@directlinegroup.co.uk
To: theniesche@hotmail.com
Subject: Re: Complaint letter about Direct Line advertisiment
Date: Fri, 10 Oct 2014 11:47:55 +0000

Dear Niesche,

We have recently received a complaint letter from your about the advertisment run by Direct Line. To enable us deal with the concerns you've raised , please can you provide us with your full name, contact address and phone number.

Thank you.

Segun Alayande
Customer Relations
Case Handler
Direct Line Group
Telephone: 0845 246 2455
Email: segun.alayande@directlinegroup.co.uk
From:  Niesche (theniesche@hotmail.com)
Sent:10 October 2014 21:09:28
To:Alayande, Segun Direct Line Group, Churchill (segun.alayande@directlinegroup.co.uk)
Hello there Segun :)

Lovely to hear from you, i'm so glad you got my letter. While i am ecstatic that you have seen fit to 'deal' with my 'complaint', i am a little apprehensive about giving you my full name, contact address and phone number. After all, you insurance guys are pretty much just government sanctioned criminals aren't you? (as evidenced by your association with Mr Wolf! Gave the game away there didn't you eh?!) So i'm scared that if i do give you my shit then i'll get a visit from an unkempt man called Barry one Saturday afternoon telling me to "keep my maaarrrff shut" in an over-the-top cockney accent. You might even put dog poo on my car handles, or sneak into my house and superglue a fork to my cat. I'd be leaving myself open to a whirlwind of crappy low-level pranks, I'm sure you can understand my concern.

So, in the interests of my peace of mind i require some form of proof that you are indeed a Direct Line representative. Now i'm a reasonable man so i won't be asking for a picture of you taking a big shit on a Churchill nodding dog statue while licking a red telephone or anything like that (though that would be a very beautiful thing). No, instead just a quick selfie of you sat at your desk holding up some kind of Direct Line branded item will suffice. And if you could hold up a sign next to it saying 'That's not a baby that's a potato', even better!

Alternatively, you could just email me with a full apology and some token of gratitude for the world-beating ideas i sent you, you ungrateful shits (I know i originally said i didn't want anything for them but i've changed my mind. Show me the money! Or the kebab. A kebab would be nice).

Looking forward to your reply honeybun x


Hahaha she replied again!!!!

From: segun.alayande@directlinegroup.co.uk
To: theniesche@hotmail.com
Subject: RE: Complaint letter about Direct Line advertisiment
Date: Mon, 13 Oct 2014 12:08:20 +0000

Dear Niesche,

Thank you for your response. However, as stated in my e-mail of 10 October 2014, we'll not be able to deal with the concerns you've raised without a valid contact address details and your full name.


Segun Alayande
Customer Relations
Case Handler
Direct Line Group
Telephone: 0845 246 2455
Email: segun.alayande@directlinegroup.co.uk
My Response:
From:  Niesche (theniesche@hotmail.com)
Sent: 13 October 2014 22:29:40
To: Alayande, Segun Direct Line Group, Churchill (segun.alayande@directlinegroup.co.uk)
Hello you,

Oh dear oh dear, we're in a bit of a pickle aren't we? This is like a really pathetic Mexican stand off via email. Hmmmm, what are we to do.........ooh i know! How about i count to three and then we both reveal our identities to each other! No, wait. That won't work will it? Shit. I've got a better idea! I'll describe myself to you, in detail, and then i'll also give you a bunch of names that i'm NOT called and by process of elimination you can cross them out of the phone book and you'll be left with a bunch of names that MIGHT be mine then we can play like an email version of Guess Who! 'Have you got brown eyes?', 'Are you wearing a tie?' that sort of thing. This is great! Ok, about me: I'm six foot one and i'm tons of fun and i dress to a 't', you see i've got more clothes than Mohammed Ali and i dress so viciously, I got bodyguards, i got two big cars that definitely ain't the whack, i got a Lincoln Continental and a sunroofed Cadillac. Doesn't that paint a lovely picture Segun?! Also, here's a bunch of names that i'm NOT called:

John Thebaptist
Warren Polythene
Lady Miscarriage
Ampitheatre Brown
Andy Paradox
Aubrey Felch
Malcolm Disaster

Let the games begin!!! I'll start. Is your dress blue? Do you have your hair up in a bun? Are you wearing a look of mild confusion? Do you, Segun Aleyande, read The Dandy?

Isn't this fun?!!
Niesche x

Tuesday, 28 January 2014


Dear Coldplay,

It has been almost 20 years since you first appeared on the pop scene and during that time i feel that you have contributed more than any other band to the endless wave of flaccid ‘rock’ music that’s been weakly trying to penetrate our souls like a whales’ soggy limp cock. In fact ‘wave’ is probably too exciting a word to use, maybe ‘dribble’ would be more appropriate to describe the creeping beige menace of ‘safe’ music which you have inflicted on the youth of 00’s Britain. Rock music should be hard and thrusting, like an erect narwhal’s horn violently stabbing us in the eyes while piranhas rip and tear our leg flesh in a frenzied orgy of blood lust.

So, bearing in mind we’ve had 20 YEARS of this (nearly) i think it’s time for a change don’t you? But rather than just ‘shutting the fuck up’, as i’m sure many people would like to see, i am proposing a masterplan to transform our vanilla youngsters and middle-aged mums (that’s totally your fanbase right?) into the drug-addled reprobates they deserve to be. Sort of like what Insane Clown Posse did when they made all their albums with satanic themes and sweary lyrics then came out in an interview and stated that they were actually devout Christians and they were only doing it to draw in the disenfranchised youths of America with the intention of then converting them to Jesus once they had them hooked. Only you’d be doing it the other way round! Luring in the bland mainstream masses with your hypnotic elevator musak then BAM! hitting them with some GG Allin type shit and getting them to mainline heroin into their eyeballs while taking a shit on a church roof. Stick that in your organic falafel salad and smoke it pop pickers!

My plan is 3-fold:

Act 1 – Do nothing! Seriously, do absolutely nothing for at least a year. No interviews, no tours, no singles, no albums, do not even give the public a whiff of your mainstream melodies. Thus, you create expectation. HUGE expectation. “Where are Coldplay?” “What will we do without the safety of their rock/pop ditties?” “What will we use to soundtrack our dull insipid lives?” *GASP*” Have they split up?????” etc. etc.

Act 2 – Change your band name, however you must make clear that it’s still Coldplay but in a different guise. Call yourselves Chris Martin and the Shits or something. Or Cockplay. Whatever, i’m sure you’ll think of something. Then announce this name change in the first interview you’ve done for a year! Talk about “the exciting new album” that “all Coldplay fans MUST buy”. You know, really lay it on thick like “if you don’t buy this album then we’ll get Downton Abbey taken off the telly”, you know really put the shits up them.

Act 3 – Now your audience is primed, release the heaviest, most sweary, disgusting, offensive bunch of tracks the world has ever heard, each with its own message of conversion to debauchery. Like, track one could be Chris vomiting onto a microphone for 2 minutes while the rest of the band murder pigs with chainsaws in the background then use their severed piggy limbs to beat a disgusting bloody rhythm on the drums. Then drop some lyrics over the top like “Do-smack-do-smack-do-smack-do-smaaaaaaaaaack-do-smack-do-smack-do-smack-do-smaaaaaaaack-fuck-life-do-smaaaaaaaaaack” or something. Track two could be the continuous sound of an industrial drill with a strained voice screaming “Your desk job is worthless” and “Would you like to buy a monkey” and “This coffee is shiiiiiiiiiiiit” over the top.

With the three phase plan complete you will have hopefully transformed the lifestyle choices of the masses so they more accurately reflect the true spirit of rock music. You can then sit back, relax and enjoy the sight of society collapsing into anarchy!

There’s no need to thank me :)


Tuesday, 21 January 2014

Pastor Chris

Hi there pastor Chris,

I am writing to you for two reasons: to share my personal experience of a genuine miracle what happened to me last week; and I also have some questions/prayers which I hope you can answer for me. All clear? Good. Here we go…

This is amazing, seriously you’re gonna LOVE this. Genuine miracle, no doubt about it. It’s a definite 10 on the miracle scale. Check it. You know how in the bibel it says stuff about god not liking gays and what have you? And by implication that gayness is not an inherent sexual preference but actually a lifestyle choice cos I dunno, some people just like being awkward or something? So bearing in mind that the bibel is 100% THE TRUTH, what happened last week will blow your holy mind Chrissy-boy. I was a leather bar in town right, just minding my own business, when I turns round and right in front of me were two men ‘being gay’. You know, like holding hands and smiling at each other and ‘pretending’ to be in love and all that….or so I thought! Suddenly a voice entered my head, God’s voice! He said ‘go and ask them why they are being gay for….’ So I did, and guess what Chris?? They said they were doing it cos they were “madly in love with each other”!!!! And they didn’t look like they were pretending at all! And then get this! I asked god’s voice what the deal was and he said “yes, they are not pretending at all! All these years the bibel has been WRONG! Where it says ‘Being a gay is wrong’ what it actually should’ve said is ‘Being a po-faced idiot with a naïve and patronising world-view is wrong’!” Then god went on to say that some people being gay was actually brilliant because it not only reduces the risk of over-population but at the same time provides society with loving parents to adopt and take care of all those unwanted children that get shit out by irresponsible heterosexual breeders every day!
Well, you could’ve knocked me down with a shitty nappy. God really does love gay people and the bibel is wrong! (god did however say that the bibel is still totally right about not eating shellfish on a Tuesday, so no scampi for us tonight!) God also added that he would be very grateful if you could amend the bibel to reflect this new development and also include some positive stuff about gays in your sermons or else he’ll take a big god-sized shit on your (presumably massive) house.    

What a miracle eh? Now for my questions/prayers:

1. I'm terrified that one day i will wake up and my legs will have vanished. What can i do to make sure that my legs don't vanish? Is there a special prayer for this?

2. My mate Raul is expecting a baby next week (i.e. his wife is pregernant and it's due next week. He's not just anticipating a baby appearing at his house for a coffee or something). They plan to have many more and him and his missus are wanting to do that thing where they name all the kids they have with names that start with the same first letter, you know like 'Kenneth', 'Katherine' and Kandice for example. You know what name they've decided on for their first daughter? Fucking ‘Ursula’. I don't suppose you could give me a list of other names beginning with 'U' could you? Raul is at a complete loss.

3. Is Billy Zane dead yet? If not can you pray that it happens soon please? Heaven must surely be running low on total douchbags, he could fill that gap perfectly.

4. What on earth are slugs actually 'for'?

Thanks pastor Chris (did you know that your name is actually an anagram of 'hot piss carr'?).

Tuesday, 17 December 2013


Dear Amazon,

I am writing to you out of pure altruistic kindness with reference to the annual shitfest that is the ‘xmas tv advert war’. A war from which your esteemed company is shamefully absent, poor little Amazon! Just think of all the misplaced sentimental bollocks and false sense of public togetherness generated by these sparkly visual piles of vomit that you’re missing out on. What better way to celebrate a company which is undoubtedly the bastion of 21stcentury Western capitalism than by anchoring it to the yearly consumer-fest obscenity that is xmas. This is something which I feel you should remedy for 2014 and I have come to you now as a metaphorical saviour with a world-beating script for your assault on the xmas advert brawl! John Lewis, Aldi, M&S, Morrisons, Tescos and all those other twats won’t know what’s hit them next year!

Title: Amazing Amazon (Already I can sense you’re excited! Alliteration does that to people)

Scene 1:

Starting with a black screen an image slowly fades in. A bird’s eye view of city streets, snow gently cascading around the lens as the camera moves along the rooftops. Haven’t decided on the musical accompaniment yet but probs Coldplay or something equally as bland and clichéd, the public love that shit.
As we arrive at the outskirts of town the camera zooms slowly in on a large warehouse, the Amazon logo resplendent and proudly emblazoned across the roof, people and forklift trucks busying themselves outside unloading pallets from a large HGV. The camera continues its descent, its speed increasing as it approaches those silly plastic flaps that cover the entrance of all warehouses. As we fly through the flaps the music suddenly changes! Now: ‘O Fortuna’ by Orff, you know that music they used in The Omen that makes your tits shrink? That one, right at the point where the shouty singing comes in.

Scene 2:

The scene inside the warehouse is one of total and utter horror. I’m thinking something like the hell section off Hieronymous Bosch’s ‘Garden of Earthly Delights’ (alternatively if you’re not as cultured as what I am just picture the audience at an X Factor Live recording). Rows and rows of shelving literally dripping with parcels and boxes while grotesquely deformed humanoids slave away collecting them off the floor and throwing them onto huge motorised trolleys driven by enormously fat men with two heads who periodically vomit napalm and chunks of semi-digested mince pies onto the swollen backs of the workers (proper xmassy). The camera continues moving speedily between the racks, the floor slick and glistening with a noxious mixture of sick, blood, sweat and pies. As we reach the rear loading doors we again burst through the crappy flaps to be greeted by this…

Scene 3

A huge hairy santa 60ft tall, naked and sweating on all fours. As he cranes his neck round to look directly in the camera we get a view of his grubby beard encrusted with the detritous of a thousand xmas dinners which vibrate and shift as he belches with a repulsive and sickening grimace. The camera pans back and we see him reach round and spread his anus wide as dumper trucks continually lift and pour a mountain of presents and parcels into the disgusting fleshy cavity. Slowly, santa’s arsehole closes as the trucks cram the last of the presents in, then as santa rises onto his haunches and prepares for take off the music cuts out and there is silence. A few tense seconds pass as santa begins to shake then ‘WHOOSH’ he shoots into the air, loose hair and food particles creating a trail of vile confetti behind him, while the voice over is that bit in that awful Slade song where Noddy Holder shouts “It’s Chrriiiiiiistmaaaaaassss” in that dreadful throaty Brummy whine of his. Music suddenly kicks back in as santa soars but this time we hear Bing Crosby’s version of ‘It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Xmas’.

Scene 4

The camera is now again a birds eye view above santa’s fat hairy arse as we fly over the city once more to Bing’s sugary crooning. As we reach suburbia santa pauses over a chimney then squats and strains with the might of a man who has a million presents stuck up his backside. A bloody shit full of soggy boxes emerges from his ass and ‘plops’ down the chimney…

(Cut to)

Scene 5

Two children, a boy and a girl, both around 5 years old, sitting by an open fire in their living room. Both have a look of greedy expectation on their hideous faces as they witness the arrival of the xmas shit. It splats onto the flames and explodes, showering them both in cardboard, faeces and glitter at which point they turn to face the camera, both grinning inanely as glittery poo slides down their cheeks and gradually envelopes their entire bodies. The screen fades to black once more, the horrible image of shit-covered children burned forever into the viewer’s mind, as the end message types itself one letter at a time, white on black in a classic calligraphic font: “Merry Christmas, Love Amazon”.


See? It’s a belter isn’t it? I can’t think of a more appropriate and honest way to sum up the magic of xmas. The war is already won Amazon, John Lewis can stick that bear up its arse!!

Niesche x

Monday, 25 November 2013

UGG Australia

Initial message:

Date: Mon, 25 Nov 2013 18:21:07 +0800
To: the_niesche@hotmail.co.uk
From: customer@uggfull.com
Subject: UGG Boots Sale: 65% off TODAY ONLY

Hi Nhsells, Enjoy 65% Off Everything-In Stores Only! View Online | Unsubscribe
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To: UGG® Australia, Service@uggfull.com


Can i first of all state that no, i absolutely did not 'sign up at uggfull.com' to receive your email offers BUT (and this is actually a very large and special 'BUT') by some weird piece of cosmic synchronicity i was about to email YOU with an offer of my very own!!! How very special! And my offer is infinitely more valuable than a paltry 65% off and free shipping you tramps! What i offer is simply one thing: advice. Advice and ideas. Ok, two things, but it's mainly advice alright?
You may or may not have noticed that over here in the civilised western world ladies are increasingly getting sick of wearing boots that make them look like they work as the 'comfort police' in Fluffybunnyland. You have to admit that, as 'cosy' as they may be, trotting around all day in what essentially amounts to two dead sheep on your feet isn't going to win you any style awards. They're like slippers with delusions of grandeur. Not to mention the fact that everyone else has to suffer seeing these poor (but oh so comfortable!) women wear the shit out those 'fancy slippers' until the soles shoot out to one side like they're trying to escape being trodden on all day so ladies end up looking like they've broken their fucking ankles 'cos no-one in the real world can afford to spend 150 quid on a pair of replacement bedtime wellies every month.

So, UGGs are seemingly on the way out. But do not despair! My advice to you is simply 'diversify'...................................................................................................................................................

Just let that sink in......................................................................................................................................

Mind? Blown? I'll bet it is, but save your praise! I am about to share with you my amazing idea for a new stock line to help you continue to sell over-priced woolen products to fashion-unconscious Brits! Also, you're gonna have a whole bunch of fleece-lined toe-ticklers to get rid of so you may as well use them for something. So what is this idea?................................

'Cock Wallets'

A subtle and unique combination of the novelty 'cock warmers' popular in seaside town joke shops in the 80's, and that most outdated of monetary containers: the wallet. Bringing you the warmth and comfort of a toothless prossies mouth coupled with the convenience and security of keeping your 'pieces of silver' right next to your 'crown jewels'. Once your johnson is safely tucked up in its wooly bed you can rest assured that no self-respecting pick pocket (prick pocket? or maybe even pick cocket??) is going to have the 'balls' (hahahahahahaha!) to slip his hand down the front of your strides for the sake of a few pennies. And even if they did, what would they find? With the downy interior taking care of any post-wee dribbles, they'd discover a soft, warm and dry penis to welcome their dirty thieving hand. You know this one's a winner (or should that be 'weiner'!). I've even thought of some advertising slogans:

1. 'Ugger me!' A clever play on that most British of phrases 'bugger me' which serves two meanings, being both an invite by the consumer to your company to furnish his needy penis with your groundbreaking product, and also a reference to the act of 'buggery' which is sort of what the consumer will be doing when he pops his winky into the fluffy sheath, resembling as it undoubtedly will, a sheeps anus. 

2. 'Fort Knackers'. A reference to the American 'Fort Knox', being the archetypal secure money depository, and probably a very comfortable money depository at that.

3. Actually, i could only think of two. Sorry.

By the way i've trademarked the name 'Cock Wallets', i know you Aussies are all descended from criminals and as we all know thievery is genetic! I want my propers!

Niesche x