The Bro Code

For anyone who doesn't know, the Bro Code is a set of rules by which men should religiously live their lives... unless they don't live in a TV show. Then its iffy.

The book IS real (I have it), and is based on a fictional Bro Code from the TV show How I Met Your Mother. Apparently, Barnibus Stinson, George Washington and Benjamin Franklin (they did live at the same time. I looked it up. IT ALL COULD HAVE HAPPENED!) needed a way to settle disputes over who got wenches at bars, without infringing on each others' rights to also bang wenches. Sadly, George and Benjamin were too busy founding countries and advancing science (you know, useless stuff) to create such an important code of conduct, and so the job fell to Barnibus. He wrote the first draft, which has been edited by bro's over the years into a 150-rule book of glorious manliness... and wenches. So, one of the writers of the TV show wrote the book mentioned in the TV show, using all the articles in the show and adding new ones. It is without a doubt the funniest thing I've ever read.

To give you an idea, here's a couple of good articles:

Article 5

Whether he cares about sports or not, a Bro cares about sports.

Article 38

Even in a fight to the death, a Bro never punches another Bro in the groin.

It's pretty much impossible to follow all the rules (article 5 gets me every time), but its a damn hilarious read. In future cop-out posts, I'll probably comment on the rules I mention. For example, I might argue that article 38 is (a) kinda wierd... when would I be in a fight to the death?! (unless I accumulate THAT many slaps) and (b) 100% true. ALWAYS. End of.

To finish, here's a video that made me laugh, and is tenuously related to the rest of this post:

Have a good week!
         -Jamie

Birthday Banter

A ridiculous number of my recent posts have started with me apologising for not posting on time. Is it because I’m a tad lazy? Maybe. Or is it because I have horrifying exams that take up the majority of my conscious (and apparently unconscious now too)? Probably. Nonetheless, I didn’t post and have been slapped accordingly. Damn.

Moving swiftly on (please!), while watching the Jimmy Neutron film earlier today I had a (to steal his favourite catch phrase) brain-blast. The blast was that if I came up with a good posting idea I could use the phrase ‘brain-blast’. Luckily, such an idea did fall into my lap.

Tomorrow one of my oldest friends (in terms of time I’ve known him, not age) turns 17 (see? Most of us turned 17 so long ago we’re closer to turning 18 now!). He’s a fairly eccentric guy, and has always said he holds a belief that a person’s birthday is really important, and so he’ll always endeavour to do anything a person asks him to do on their birthday. To avoid any of you taking advantage of this insanely generous (and insane) offer, I won’t be telling you the name of this person... just in case. Besides, he didn’t deliver on the box of flying kittens when I turned 17, so it probably wouldn’t be worth it anyway. 

There’s only one flaw in this philosophy. Ok, fine, there are too many flaws to count, but the one that jumped out at me was that if he’s gonna try to make everyone else’s birthdays awesome, who’s gonna make a big deal for him? I mean, it’d be kinda sad if he had to make a big deal to himself about his own birthday! He will anyway, but still. Secretly, everyone on the planet wants the people around them to remember, and make a big(ish) deal about, their birthday. Anyone that says otherwise is either:

a)  Lying,

b) Trying to be modest (in which case whatever they say should be reversed; eg “Honest, there’s no need to make a big deal” really means “That’s right bitch, I’m [ INSERT AGE HERE ], make a big deal! Make a HUGE deal!”).

c)  Or, if you’re in a relationship with said person, testing you (in which case you MUST take everything they say, reverse it and multiply it by one hundred... thousand. Give or take 10. eg [for a woman]“It’s only my birthday, don’t worry about it” really means “WORRY ABOUT IT. WORRY HARD. I’m expecting my present to either be a unicorn, a diamond necklace or a unicorn WEARING a diamond necklace. And if you get the date, or that I’m turning [ INSERT AGE HERE ] wrong, you will NEVER see me naked. Ever. In fact, you may receive a slap, followed by a 18 page letter explaining all the problems with our now ended relationship.”

...It’s possible I over-exaggerated slightly. Still, you get the jist.

Anyway, the reason this incredibly rambly story is relevant is because I decided that, from 3:00pm until midnight, I would send him a text every hour, on the hour, as a countdown. (I confess that my 9pm text was pretty late, but in my defence I was writing this blog post!) Each text would include the number of hours left until midnight, and a ‘wisdomous words’ section (wise words, but I decided ‘wisdomous’ sounded more mystical) of things he should know by the time he turns 17. 

At 3pm, with 9 hours to go till midnight, the wise words were ‘Never follow a fat lady down a water slide’. Trust me, it’s good advice.

The others have ranged from real stuff like ‘The best things in life are free’, to funny things like quotes from The Bro Code (originally written by Barnibus Stinson, apparently with the help of George Washington and Benjamin Franklin, to settle disputes between bros. Look it up, read it, thank me later).

This wonderfully kind-hearted act made me realise that I could do a similar thing with my blog to avoid slaps. So, this will be my last long post for a while. Instead, I’ll be leaving at least once a week ‘Wisdomous Words’ for you all, since I am a pretty wisdomous guy (hey, I said pretty!). These will range from real phrases that I kinda like, to articles from The Bro Code, or just random (and probably slightly crazy) thoughts/musings on life that pop into my head during the day. Hopefully they’ll make you laugh or think, and maybe work as a supplement to normal posts while I’m busy procrastinating. And as a slap deterrent. DEFINITELY as a slap deterrent. Awesome.

Before I go, I feel it would be wrong of me to mention the whole flying kittens thing without demonstrating what I mean, so here’s a video of me throwing a kitten off my roof a picture:

They would have been my incredibly adorable army! Muwahahaha...

Have a great week!

                -Jamie

Two posts in one week? You must be joking!

I am. See you on Monday. =P

An Insight into the Mind of a Crazy Person (me)

I’m sorry. There, I said it. I know I haven’t posted in ages, and trust me I’m suffering profusely for my lack of posts (so many slaps... so many...), but I feel I should explain.

This holiday, I did what most of you all probably did and created the most incredible, kick-ass perfect revision timetable ever conceived. All I had to do was stick to this timetable and by the end of the Easter holidays I’d be ready(ish) for my AS levels. I followed it for about a day. After that came the frantic re-writes and procrastination I’m used to during revision time; frankly I’m surprised I lasted the whole first day! Anyway, during the blurs of days wasted doing nothing, I COULD have blogged. Here’s the problem; during the time I should be revising, doing anything other than work isn’t allowed (naturally). So, watching TV on my computer with my revision guide open is just about passable cos I can kid myself into thinking I’m working, but anything else isn’t. As such, blogging wasn’t allowed, hence no blogs. I just couldn’t bring myself to do something even slightly productive cos my thought process was as follows:

 

As you can clearly see by the fantastic flow chart, I’m crazy I was trapped in a never ending cycle, so I couldn’t post.

Right, now we’ve sorted that out, maybe a few less slaps will ensue (yeh, I doubt it too, but I can hope!).

My last post (the cop-out one) was really more of a joke, so that I’d at least posted before I go to school tomorrow and get the skin beaten off my face by the number of slaps I’m due. THIS is my real post, the other one was just to trick Benji and Charlie for a bit.

Anyway, to finish up I’ve got a few pictures that made me laugh, and a video I meant to upload ages ago:

Ah, the shit we get up to in physics lessons... Speaking of which, see the video below:

 Let me set the scene. It's a Friday morning (maybe, don't really remember the day), we're sitting in physics studying... something. I think it was standing waves. Our teacher pulls out this gizmo and tells us he's going to create a wave of air in the gizmo to make the flames different heights, allowing us to see the shape of the wave. Almost immediately someone asks if we can plug in an iPod. The results are awesome:

Makes you wonder what kind of fucked up shit really happens in the US that means they need to makes these signs...

 Until next time!

     -Jamie

No Charlie, this is the mother of all cop-out posts:

COP-OUT POST!!! =D

Suck on that Please don't kill me Benji =P 


(Real post to follow soon... REALLY soon. Like, within an hour.)
 

Put THAT in Your Blog and Smoke It! *

First off, I better apologise for not posting last week. I didn’t forget, I was just a bit busy. However, after a grossly unnecessary surprise slap from Kostas, and the other slaps I suppose I signed up for, I’m so dizzy I can’t remember how to do my homework, so I thought I’d post instead!

However, since I’m still fairly busy, I can’t do a full sized blow-your-mind oh-my-god-its-coming-right-at-us type of post, so instead I’m gonna try something I was recently enlightened to by Charlie; a cop-out post. Basically, if we’re busy but need to write a post, we’re now allowed to write a super-short post that says something like “I’m ill. Please leave a message after the tone” or some other lie like that (yeh Benji, I’m looking at you!) so long as we make up for it by (1) having an amusing picture or video at the end of the post, and (2) write an awesome post next time (here is Benji’s admittedly hilarious compensation for his ‘I’m Ill’ post).

Anyway, this weekend I’m off for a reason I still can’t quite fathom to Wales (not voluntarily, no-one ever goes to Wales by choice) to take part in my practise DofE expedition. For anyone who doesn’t know, DofE stands for The Duke of Edinburgh Award scheme, and essentially consists of wandering around in a field in Wales for a few days carrying a map and pretending not to be lost. Oh, and the 60kg bags and the camping every night... and the 20km per day if you’re doing the Gold award like me (the beastly award). So hopefully next week I’ll have some amusing DofE related anecdotes to tell, but I warn you now my post will be a day late cos I don’t get back till Tuesday.

To give you an idea of the treat you are potentially in for, here’s a list of some of the things that happened to me and my group on my recent DofE expedition (which was, by the way, also my first... and after you read this you may wonder why it wasn’t my last):

1)      Arrived in the darkness, pitch black. Setting up the tents was a treat.

2)      Woke up in the morning to discover we’d slept pretty much on the edge of a huge lake. If the Big Man up in the sky had been feeling vengeful, we would have all drowned so quickly we wouldn’t even have had the time to try to build an ark!

3)      Turned out my first day of DofE ever involved climbing to the highest point of a mountain range. No, scratch that, not JUST a mountain range. The Black Mountains. And before you ask yes, I did try to find the volcano to throw the ring into and no, it wasn’t there. Or, at least, the Warlock and Dragon guarding the entrance told me not to tell anyone... should be ok though, I don’t think they have broadband...

4)      Eventually got back to the camp site to discover the other group had got there 2 hours ago, and their route had taken them around the mountains. We didn’t get to pick our route... and hated them.

5)      Discovered the next morning that eating copious amounts of chocolate (specifically Mars Bars- damn they’re good!) just before tackling the most monsterous (yes, it’s a word!) of hills worked like a charm... kind of. Well, at least I didn’t have to hike on an empty stomach!

6)      Hiked up a hill called Lord Hereford’s Knob; great bit of naming from the Welsh there.

7)      Discovered that, although I don’t have signal at home or school in London, I have 5 bars on top of Lord Hereford’s Knob... to be fair, it was a tall knob.

8)      Hiking back down the knob, we found 3 guys on off-road motor bikes trying to kill themselves on the slopes. One of them almost succeeded, but he got right back up... it was awesome.

9)      Stopped for a bit in field to rest and discovered Russians can sleep anywhere, anytime.

10)   Attacked by donkeys. Yes, you read that right. They charged at us as we entered the field and blocked our path. Me and one guy made a break for it and escaped, the other two were stuck for a good 5 minutes before they realised all the donkeys wanted was a pat on the head and a carrot. Since we didn’t have any carrots, they patted them into submission and we left.

11)   We got 5 metres.

12)   I notice a large horse at the top of this new field and stupidly say “Whoa, if that thing charged at us we’d be screwed!”
It charged. Anyone who doesn’t believe in jinxes, don’t test it in Wales. You never know what might happen...

13)   We all managed to break the world record for the quickest anyone in Wales has ever run 200m with 60kg backpacks on. We’re expecting a call from the Guinness Book of World Records any day now.

14)   3 people were following me, I was following the guy in front and he had no idea where he was going... good recipe. He ran into a ditch behind a bush, I fell in after him and the other 3 piled onto us in something akin to a rugby scrums... except it was actually just 5 guys and 5 huge bags in a small pile-on.

15)   We survived! The horse veered off and after it had wandered down the field, we sprinted to the nearest fence and jumped over before it had a chance to take revenge.

16)   You might think our day was over, but nope, not on DofE! We stopped in a field to rest after our traumatic experience, and one guy wanders into the next field and sits down in the sun. Through the gap in the trees we see him jump suddenly from the ground, a white Mitsubishi pick-up truck whizz past, an angry Welsh man get out and a large shotgun. It wasn’t a good sign.

17)   Why are the Welsh allowed to own guns?

18)   I mean seriously, come on!

19)   He starts yelling at us in something that was once similar to English, but is now so twisted by this guy’s accent, anger and years of smoking and drinking that it was practically intelligible... so, Welsh. I start apologising profusely and praying the gun isn’t loaded.

20)   He fairly literally kicks us off ‘his land’ and onto a motor way. Apparently, if a map says ‘Public footpath’ it really means ‘Get the f**k off my land’.

21)   Eventually we arrived at the campsite. The other group are there already.

22)   We murdered the other group and ate their food.

23)   Spend the last day tremendously lost on a hill covered in thick plants.

24)   Discovered Nick loved all animals. And I mean LOVED. We lost like half an hour cos he wanted to stare at a pig, then a cow. We promised to buy him a cow if he kept going... she’s now called Fluffy and her birthday was last month.

25)   We crossed a train track. And another. And a road. It’s Wales, there were no actual motor vehicles...which begs the questions who built the roads?!

26)   Finally made it to the bus. Guess who didn’t beat us this time? The (deceased) other group! Ha!

So, if that’s just one fairly normal trip, imagine the possibilities in store for you all next week! Until then, wish me luck; I’m not so sure I can outrun another horse!

Well, it seems I’ve failed to make a ‘cop-out’ post, so I’ll just wish you all a great week and end it at that!

                -Jamie

*PS: The title is a quote from Kostas during a maths lesson. It was really random and funny at the time, so I gave it the recognition it deserves. Here’s a link to his equally hilarious blog, check it out!

The Ultimate Guide to Sixth Form Lads - Part 3 (The Finale)

At long last, we have arrived at the final section of the Ultimate Guide to Sixth Form Lads. Sadly, next week will continue with the regularly scheduled programming (of awesome, but still). So, here it is, the end of the trilogy:

The Indies

A question I frequently get asked by people on the far side of the generation gap is what an Indie is. Who are they? What defines them? Why do you keep saying these clothes from Top Man and H&M are ‘Indie’? (Just kidding... I don’t shop at Top Man. Or H&M). Well, Indie is, I suppose, a culture... sort of. They have their own music, type of clothes and annoying cliquey group who are determined to say they aren’t Indie or cliquey, then continue to box you out of the circle and listen to the song on their mate’s iPod, which can be distinctly seen bulging out of the tiny pocket of their way too skinny jeans. They are often pretty thin (otherwise no Indie clothes would fit, which would of course make them look stupid...) and wear clothes a few sizes too small, and with lots of colours. Skinny jeans and that Top Man T-shirt with the v-neck and different colours on the sleeve and neck rims are necessities, and wearing shirts out of school if fine, as long as the top button is ALWAYS done up fully, so your airway is blocked off and you nearly suffocate. Well, we all suffer for fashion, right?

This crowd can be nice, mind, and are often quite witty and very good at english. At the very least, they make amusing mates, even if you don’t want to dress like a multi-coloured gymnast.

The Chavs

Since I’m already stereotyping, I might as well go ahead and say you mostly get these guys at state-schools. There, I said it. And to be perfectly honest, it’s true; no kid able to afford a private school, even with money off, can be a chav, no matter how hard they may try. Those people are called wanna-be chavs (see below). The chavs wear hoddies so often many don’t know what each others’ hair, or faces, look like, and speak in a language that was once English long ago, but has since evolved (or, devolved) into a new version, with lots of slang thrown in there and with its own accent. These people think they’re really tough and hard (which, really, they usually are), and are fairly aggressive and quick to get into fights. That said, there are a few nice chavs out there, you just have to earn their respect, kind of like a tribe of gorillas or cave-people. This can be done by defeating the alpha-male, nicking something valuable (ish) or scalping small animals... worrying, really.

The Wanna-be Chavs

These are the people who try desperately to convince the world that despite their reasonable or even large house (and wealth), they’re as ‘hard’ as it gets. Never mind the complete lack of a life of hardship, or time in ‘the hood’, these guys really try to act like chavs. The result? A pretty see-through act and a person that makes it really hard NOT to want to hit them. They usually appear at private schools, grammar schools or fairly nice state-school, though not for very long. The theory goes that there are actually very few of them, they just get bounced from school to school so often it seems like there are lots of them.

So, that’s it. Or at least, those are all the types I can think of, but if you’re sitting at home shouting at the computer screen that I’ve missed a type (which is entirely possible), post it in the comments section below and I’ll add it to the guide! If you want to contribute and don’t have a google account, email/facebook/give me a note in person with your type and I’ll happily add it to the complete guide, which appear as one full page some time soon (hopefully), with a link at the top of my blog!

Have a good week!

         -Jamie

The Ultimate Guide to Sixth Form Lads - Part 2

Here it is; you’ve waited all week (possibly), and the second instalment of the Ultimate Guide to Sixth Form Lads is finally here!

The Sporty Lads

I’m not gonna say ‘The Jocks’, because that sounds like something out of High School Musical, Glee or some other equally irritating American show. Really, it’s all in the name for this one. They’re guys (though they like being called lads- but who doesn’t?) who are sporty. But I don’t mean Boff sporty. These guys are in at least one, though usually two or three school teams, and in the firsts, A-team or whatever their school calls the best team for most of these sports. Often they don’t try too hard in school, but make up for it by working pretty hard at sports to be (to quote an old tv show) the very best, like no-one ever was. Sometimes they aren’t too bright, and can be aggressive and generally douchey, but this isn’t as often as you might think (from those irritating American tv shows).

Ok, sometimes you get a few who don’t work at school, or at sport (but are naturally good), are absolutely a-holes and basically the type of person you would write a message like ‘I’m sure you’re a nice person... deep down’ or ‘It’s not that I hate you, I just wouldn’t care if you died. At all.’ in their year books, but honestly you get those people in all these stereotypes. Just, more in some than others...

The Druggies (Often crosses over with musicians)

Haven’t bothered even learning the phrase “Would you like fries with that?” for one of three reasons:

1. They won’t remember it in the morning.
2. They can’t be bothered, and aren’t worried about jobs or the future; live fast and die young, all that rubbish.
3. They’re still convinced their band will take off (musician cross-over). And I don’t mean a good band (though it might be... rarely). I mean the type called ‘Numb Nuts’ that perform Gangsta Rap... whatever that is.

Spend a great deal of their lives trying to figure out what day it is, which way is up and what the f**k happened last night. Says it all, really.

The Musicians (also sometimes known as the ‘I’m in a band’ers; Often cross over with druggies)

These are the people whose lives revolve (or at least mostly centre around) music, their instrument(s) and their talent. They can range from deranged druggies and tone-deaf nutters (for lack of a more fitting word), to musically gifted geniuses with enough music grades to sink a battleship (and often have a last name like Zeffman, just saying!). These guys and gals are often in a band, some of which are actually really good, and others which, well... aren’t. Still, both types compete in things like school Battle of the Bands with crazy names like ‘Behind the Label’ or ‘Binary Preset’ (what kind of nutters came up with that last one?). Some of this lot will go off and become professional musicians, or could easily if they wanted. Others will become professional buskers, and play occasionally at rubbish night clubs and bars until they end up back in their parent’s basement... worst case scenario, though (usually the druggie cross-overs).

That's all this week. Next week I'll post the last three hilariously exaggerated stereotypes!

Have a great week!

   -Jamie

The Ultimate Guide to Sixth Form Lads – Part 1

(I originally wrote this as one post, but it ended up so long I thought I’d do it in two or three instalments. The beauty of this is that I’m now sorted for the next few weeks slap-bet wise! )

The other day I was reading through a random magazine that happened to be sitting on the kitchen table during breakfast when I came across an article on the stereotypical types of girls in London Sixth Form schools, written by one of those people who have awarded themselves the title of comedian, and yet aren’t actually funny enough to do anything other than dodgy articles in a random magazine. However, it got me thinking about how my school works, so I thought I’d give it a shot at creating the types of lads you get in Sixth Form, hopefully in a vaguely amusing way.

So, here it is; the Ultimate Guide to Sixth Form Lads *

NB: It is important to note that the task I have undertaken is effectively impossible. Not that many people fit in perfectly to one of these categories, and chances are you’re a combination of 2 or more different types of lad. These are the extreme stereotypes, so don’t expect to find yourself, maybe just bits of yourself.

(* Many Sixth Form boys prefer to be referred to as lads, since it makes us feel older, cooler and far more manly.) 

The Nerds

Probably the easiest group to recognise, though not due to the stereotypical Einstein hairdo and broken glasses with tape in the middle that almost every bad teen-flick seems to think defines a nerd. No, these are the people who don’t have to worry about learning the phrase “would you like fries with that?” Basically, the people who give a crap about school. For one reason or another, whether it’s because they want to do well, want to be rich or don’t want to waste their time (or at a private school, their parent’s money), these people try in school (usually successfully). They are easily identified by good grades, teachers often loving them and, in some rare cases, a severe lack of a social life (though again, not as many as in crappy films).

The Boffs (aka Boffins)

A more subtle group, the boffs fulfil all, or at least most of the requirements of a Nerd, but with a few distinct differences. For starters, they are usually good at a few sports, and in sporting teams. Also, they may be ‘popular’ (though this is harder to define than it was in year 8; is it the people with the most friends? The ones everyone wants to be friends with? Do these people even exist anymore?), and will have a reasonable or busy social life. Still, they work hard and are generally fairly good all round.

They can range from very good in school to fairly good, and the same in sport. If you know one of those incredibly annoying guys, also known as ‘Golden Boys’, who seems to be perfect at everything, chances are he’s a boff (you know the type; straight A’s, in all the sports teams, maybe even captain of a few, friendly... oh yeh, and secretly resented by most people for being smart and sporty, and often popular too. It’s just not fair!).

The Mecks

Here’s one only Jewish guys will probably have heard of, so for those of you who don’t know, a meck is a male beck. Becks are the (usually Jewish) girls who wear abercrombie and fitch religiously (or, if they’re really crazy, Hollister), worship BBM and spend their whole lives typing on their blackberries, despite the fact that often they are surrounded by people or even in a conversation; anyone on BBM is automatically more important and interesting. Mecks are the male version of Becks, but much more rare. They’re pretty similar to be honest; they wear Abercrombie or Hollister, spend all their time on their blackberries (which apparently are called BB for short, for anyone who has a good phone and didn’t know that) and mostly hang out with just becks. They usually don’t have many male friends, and often come across as a bit camp (or very camp, it depends).  Occasionally they can even be aggressive to other guys, but in reality they are full of it most of the time and throw out idle threats as often as they PING people on BBM.

That’s all for now, next week I’ll post part 2 of the guide, which is arguably even better than this week’s post (if that’s even possible!).

Have a great (and anticipation-filled) week!

    -Jamie