Skip to content

Vikie Shanks And Parental Double Standards (A Minor Rant. Or Perhaps A C# One?)

25 February, 2018

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.

It says much for adults and what they deem fit for children that Phillip Larkin’s surly prose has been a standard text in British secondary schools for English for longer than anyone cares to remember (despite the embarrassing revelations from his letters he was a misogynist old racist hopelessly addicted to sadistic pornography in the days possession of which merited a jail sentence), yet his most famous and best – ‘This Be The Verse’ (a nod to Robert Louis Stevenson) – remains banned from classrooms thanks to the opening lines of the first and second stanzas.

But it demonstrates equally the double-standard of today’s parents cotton-woolling children against a world they perceive (thanks to a sensationalist media, but equally a society where stupidity is prized and culture is damned) as being out to intoxicate, rape and troll them at every juncture – especially any with a different skin colour (ironically such belief is found to be double in those creatures using tanning salons until their skin goes crispy), yet happy to humiliate them for a moment’s hilarious anecdote to friends and family.

In the internet age, what makes the offence more insidious is it is up for all the world to see – including the child’s own peer group. Including those wishing to do them harm.

Take for example one Vikie Shanks, another of those rendered micro-famous on the ‘sore paw’ media circuit, whose particular interest is the rights of those with one of the many varieties of Autism which appear to exist today – rather like the proliferation of cough medicines where once-upon-a-not-so-long-ago one bottle per brand did perfectly well thank you very much. Marketeers have much to answer for, in this life and the next, but particularly in the world of medicine where everyone qualifies as having Asperger’s today for one reason or another.

(Been there and told them to shove their diagnoses and anxiety medicines up their arses. Shyness is not a ‘medical condition’. Awkwardness is not a ‘medical condition’. It’s what makes us what we are, full stop, not an excuse for a pity party or a Get Out Of Fail Free ticket every time we f**k up).

‘Having had so many negative experiences with the authorities and schools trying the achieve the best for my disabled children, I have developed a passion for doing whatever I can to change the system so that children with Special Needs no longer suffer.’

Nice mission statement, shame about the proof reading.

Pity she comes out with this.

Never happened – except in a 1996 episode of ‘Friends’:

First sign of a fourth rater – plagiarising old jokes and trying to pass them off as real family experiences.

This was bad enough, but she compounds the offence by later making fun of her own daughter’s dyslexia (if this one ever happened either):

‘She never lived it down, bless her … but it’s all very good humoured.’

Four years later:

‘…although they appear to be coping ok, they’re really in a state of high anxiety the whole time.’

Yeah. So would we all if we had a dipshit mother posting up all your pratfalls for entertainment on the internet. One who would be the first to go running to the authorities demanding action on the bullying of her autistic children if anyone else did either of the above to them.

For the above you could cherry pick a billion other examples from Facebook and Twitter (the preferred homes of the hardcore internet arsehole) from a billion other parents. You know what they say about most people whom have suffered mistreatment it was at the hands of those closest to them: should we be any more surprised that it turns out the same is true when it comes to it over the World Wide Web?

The Trouble With … Logan Paul (And Vloggers)

2 January, 2018

The foul smelling stench of You Tube has turned a shade of dried urine almost from the turn into 2018 with worldwide soaking of panties over Logan Paul’s less than tasteful visit to Aokigahara (青木ヶ原), the so-called ‘Sea of trees’ at the base of Mount Fuji in Japan which for years was a popular setting for Japanese ghost stories and other supernatural legends, but has now joined the Golden Gate Bridge and Beachy Head as one of the world’s traditional place to go and kill yourself.

(Strangely, the deadliest places in the world, such as Yorkshire’s The Strid – where to fall in means certain death in seconds – often have no history as popular suicide spots, which does back psychologists claims that more often than not these places are chosen for their significance to accentuate what they are making is a cry for help – unfortunately, this doesn’t always work out as subconsciously planned)

Japanese culture has an unfortunate prediliction with suicide, even by Oriental standards, and as the internet has made the world smaller, so Aokigahara now attracts an international audience of media ghouls who know what their audiences want – of which Logan Paul has been merely the latest.

In this case he found more than he bargained for.

This was not so much the problem as his reaction to it. Even given for the perhaps understandable bizarre way people will act in shock over a moment of horror (laughter being a common one – as the Milgram Experiment showed), his behaviour was in poor taste.

There was the inevitable apology, which tend to be of the same ‘my bad!’ sincerity as a court lawyer withdrawing a remark the judge has asked the jury to ignore knowing full well it will have had the effect intended regardless, combined with the equally inevitable self-justification (‘it was to raise awareness, bros! ‘Coz suicide sucks, dudes. So, like, don’t do it, and stuffs.’ ).

Had he thrown in an apology for that haircut, it may have gone some way to showing sincerity.

Whoops! Can’t have flippancy, this is all super serial. Even Sophie Turner, or Ginger Stark from Game Of Thrones took time out to take him down.

Huh! The same Sophie Turner who had no problems letting herself be raped by Ramsey Bolton in Game Of Thrones for the sake of ratings (and her own blossoming career – ‘show them you can handle the grittier roles – look how ‘The Accused’ worked wonders for Jodie Foster, you don’t want to end up typecast as a fairy princess all your days!’) – a full two seasons after Emilia Clarke took a stand and made it clear to the show’s producers they were getting no more wardrobe malfunctions or ‘break the cutie’ scenes from her as disquiet grew over how much the show was trying to be real to the medieval style societies it is based around and how much was merely violent pornographic titillation and female objectification of women – brutal tropes from half a century ago the media claim they wish to bury.

It’s been much the same media reaction elsewhere, Vanity Fair showing no sense of self-awareness with the following.

The same humbuggery has appeared on You Tube itself with its own latest bonfire of the vanities – seems like only yesterday they were roasting PewDiePie for crimes against humanity.

The looks of horror, the face clutching, the hand haircomb of despair, the tears.


***cough!*** maybe might make us some money later for the vlogs which are monetarised, maybe ***cough!***

Can’t you see how much these poor innocent Vloggers have been triggered by all this? How much they are suffering for us all, dying for his sins! They are so brave! Doing so much! Remember these videos are NOT monetised, and they have made donations in honour of the person whose name and all other details are completely unknown.



You may however want to show solidarity by subscribing. Just saying without actually saying. We’re doing a good deed and stuffs. It’s up there in a nice big red button. Doesn’t cost you anything. Go on, press it. That felt better, didn’t it? Ahhhhhhh.

As Kavos, Boogie2988, True Geordie, My Name Is Martin and the rest of these pollutants of the zeitgeist wring their hands and wash them in their own crocodile tears, you know they’re hoping they’ll be the ones to benefit from the backlash. The ‘just ended his career’ is more a wish than a question.

Maybe they will get a slice of the Logan Paul action with all the fame (it’s a relative thing) and fortune (which most certainly isn’t and beats the hell out of proper work) it comes with – travelling the world for a start on someone else’s tab needs no recommendation when the alternative for these losers is some entry level job in a call centre or flipping burgers – if they’re lucky to find a job at all in the current climate.

If anything highlighted the shamelessness of these You Tube vloggers, it’s their God.

The same PewDiePie they all turned against in a heartbeat when the real, whoops, ‘mainstream’ media tore him to pieces over these…

… and for much the same reason flies lay their eggs on wounded flesh, in the hope their future will be nourished on the rotting corpse of the dead. One YouTube star dies, there’s always another thousand competing to take their place, as has been the way since the days of Boxxxy.

To put matters into context, not one of these ‘traumatised’ Vloggers – or any other media outlets for that matter – raised a murmer of protest over Vice’s trip to Aokigahara five years ago, which produced the following grotesque moment from sixteen minutes onward:

Half a minute later comes the following gem.

‘Yes we did find a skeleton today.’


On and on, with more time given to the poor bastard than they ever got in life – there’s your metaphor in all this.

That, and not a single word of protest was ever raised about the film or any part of it, and this is one of the most viewed You Tube channels of all.

Consider that before you swallow any of the bullshit from these publicity parasites pretending that Logan Paul has somehow dropped the bar which fell to the ground, onto a dog turd and been covered in various others long before he came to pick it up and hurl for the dogs to chase.

What’s even more troubling is the cold fact plenty of those criticising him aren’t angry, scandalised or anything else other than being merely jealous. Sure, the video was taken down, sure he was forced to show contrition, but to paraphrase Stephen Fry to Natalie Portman in V For Vendetta in the meantime his hit count will soar as every other video gets hammered from rubberneckers looking for other examples of shocking content.

The trouble with Logan Paul isn’t what he did was so offensive, so above the normal boundaries of good taste. It’s that it was so atypical of those seeking to maximise their audiences within the pipsqueak medium of You Tube that in the amoral world of the Vlogger what they will really be cursing him for is in their private mind they will feel he got ‘lucky’. Anyone pretending otherwise there’s one word for you – Quxxn!

Sorry Ranjeet Singh, But You’re Not The First ‘Pop Cop’ Using Dance Moves To Control Traffic

31 December, 2017

That honour goes to Owen Darcy of the St Louis police department.

Dacey kept the St. Louis’s North Broadway and East Grand intersection at rush hour moving almost as slickly as himself for over three decades from the 1960s to the 1980s.

When asked at the time for the reason behind his innovative traffic control methods, Dacey stated ‘I have to make traffic flow. I have to use motions people understand and make them move right now. If it comes out like I’m doing the twist, I can’t help that. It’s the only way to direct traffic down here.’

His novel way of controlling traffic was immortalised in the short film Pop Cop by Don Pietromonaco, and achieved international fame after it was used as part of the legendary Hanna Barbera children’s TV show ‘The Banana Splits‘. This spawned a host of imitators (particularly in the USA), but Dacey was the original.

Perhaps most remarkable of all is that despite directing traffic back in the days petrol had enough lead in it to make roof tiles, he lived another twenty one years after his retirement.

Happy Christmas (Belatedly)

26 December, 2017

Enjoy the festivities and parties.

But please remember when you take to the dance floor, you will never, ever be as cool as the kids in the old Charlie Brown movies.

They had the brilliant Vince Guaraldi Trio to help them make the moves.

The song is called ‘Linus And Lucy’ before you ask, it debuted in It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown and is often regarded (incorrectly) as the Charlie Brown theme owing to its popularity. It was very poorly remade for the movie in 2015 by Christophe Beck, for which he will spend eternity in Hell.

No, This Photograph Is NOT The Phantom Nun Of Borley Rectory – Behave Yourselves!

19 December, 2017

Over at the Spooky Isle website, which is to objectivity in paranormal research what Donald Trump is to mature adult politics (although not as bad as The Fortean Times – the basis of The Quibber in the Harry Potter series), they claim to have a photograph of a ghost. Again.

Not any old ghost, but the phantom nun which haunted Borley Rectory in Essex until it was burned down in an insurance fraud by William Hart Gregson (a convicted slum landlord, a leading member of Oswald Mosley’s British Union of Fascists and an associate of Harry Price – the former fraud medium buster of the Daily Mirror long accused of embellishing events there to make himself rich and famous). The legend goes that the nun along with the other ghosts crossed the road to reside in the local church thereafter.

For those Simmers wondering what Borley Rectory was all about, go here.

The photographer in question, Jonathan Moor of Ludlow, claims to have taken the picture during an expedition in the summer of 1986 while visiting sites containing monumental brasses in Suffolk as a member of the Monumental Brass Society §.

This would not of course be the first photo from Borley, and it isn’t the first which would be wishful thinking either.

Moor claims:

‘Looking at it a year later, having been tucked away in a book, standing in front of one of the topiary bushes is the unmistakable figure of a nun. You can see the face eyes, nose mouth wimple, gorget and mantle. From where I was standing I would estimate her to be about 5′ 6″ in height.outline. Clearly I saw nothing when I took the photo but I’ve just looked at it again and the figure is still there. Or is it wishful thinking? I don’t think it is.’

Here’s the photo, judge for yourself:

Yes, you can’t see anything either, can you?

It’s like the picture of the tabby cat camouflaged by its markings which Black Pearl Sims (RIP) put up on the forum years ago to drive its members mad. Except the cat was there.

Let Jazz-Hands help you.

‘Seeing’ a ghost in such cases is dependent on how much you are susceptible to pareidolia, which is seeing other things in unconnected objects because of the way your brain is wired to detect patterns. It has long been an endless source of amusement to low brow media digestors with Jesus in those potatoes and tomatoes which were not in amusing shapes of human genitalia (this is almost a sport in the British Isles. Pity us).

Those with Lewy Body dementia see all kinds of wacky stuff in near enough everything, which at least makes their lives interesting if they reside in one of those towns or cities where architect graduates from the Ludwig Mies van der Rohe school of soulless grey concrete cubes have been given free reign to turn municipalities into Soviet Union theme parks.

But seeing anything in the above is really reaching. There’s as much a case for there being a giant floating skull right next to the ‘nun’.

Monumental Brass Society? Monumental Brass Neck Society more like it.

Oh well, if it keeps Jonathan Moor from phoning up the Daily Express to complain about there being too much sex on television and complaining to the Radio Times about a ‘love romp’, perhaps it is best to leave him to his hobby of finding non-existent ghosts on old photographs and vigorously rubbing others brasses.

§ If you have ever played the game Skyrim and done the Thieves Guild quest ‘Hard Answers’ where you have to do a charcoal rubbing of Calcelmo’s Falmer Rosetta Stone, you’ll get the gist of these people. They go around rubbing brasses the same way others spot trains. It’s a British thing for the sort of people who wear anoraks and carry flasks around with them everywhere who refuse to accept brass or stone rubbing has been long rendered obsolete in the era of digital photography where you can take microscopically detailed pictures which don’t cause wear and tear to valuable old artifacts the way rubbing does.

Social Democratic Party UK Cannot Tell The Difference Between Jazz-Hands’ Sims 3 Posters And Their Own!

18 December, 2017

This is hilarious!

It appeared about a month after the following post was made about something done here at Jazz-Hands two years ago.

Apart from the SDP logo (which is only ITC’s American Typewriter font anyway), the rest of it was all original – none of it was ever taken from actual SDP leaflets, posters or propaganda in any way.

Thought that was pretty obvious!

The Trouble With … Jim Bob From Carter The Unstoppable Sex Machine

14 December, 2017

How to screw up your already finished music career without even trying

Take a bow Jim Bob Morrison, once of Carter The Unstoppable Sex Machine (once called Jamie Wednesday, until one gig where only two band members turned up and they told the irate bar owner that the band had split but they would fulfil the show themselves as Carter The Unstoppable Sex Machine – as nice a bit of thinking on your feet as was ever done), the sixth best thing to have come out of Streatham §

Your promotor is busy trying to sell those last few tickets for next year’s gig (this year you only did seven because no one wants to book you).

But all of a sudden.

But, but, but it was all going so well!

Maybe Mr Ollington got a little bit pissed at finding the artist he was trying to help posting this?

Why not go the full Monty and write ‘don’t buy the tickets – only the crap ones are left’ and be done with it?

Good work as well posting the following up.

That’s a good idea. Fantastic. Dash the hopes of those going to your gigs in the vain hope of Fruitbat appearing as a ‘special guest’, and you ‘just happen’ to do some old Carter stuff, and, even better, you ‘just happen’ to announce you are getting back together like every other 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s and 00s band who were famous for five minutes and have been floundering ever since like a man with no arms and legs in the sea whose name is ironically Bob.

It’s been the only reason these people (like my uncle) have been still buying tickets to your shitty gigs to hear your shitty solo songs when there’s ten times the talent busking on the underground (don’t laugh, a certain Ed Sheeran did two years around the Hammersmith and Picadilly line, oh yeeeeeeah!).

Deep down you know it. Why else do you keep having to put a ‘from Carter U.S.M.’ suffix to everything you do up to and including taking a shit other than the hope that someone will now care?

Yeah, you did a get together before but found the world wasn’t beating a path to your door and so went back to seek complete obscurity in your own rights. You even had an autobiography out, although none of the bookshops would touch it – they’ve enough trouble trying to sell the crap they’ve got as it is unless they can find a way of tying it in to some nanoscopic link to J. K. Rowling.

But now your former fans will be hitting their midlife crises. It will become twenty times worse when they find out Ed Sheeran’s the Christmas number one (bar some miracle) and will wonder why kids today are even more beige that their parents’ favourite matching comfy weekend casuals, why their generation of crusties and goths (who ‘changed the world’ by not changing it) have produced children with all the passion and angst of a bowl of Rice Crispies with cold milk poured into it. Get them in 2018 when their alienation from a world that’s given them nothing but broken dreams (Brexit, England’s humiliation at another World Cup Final, Brexit) will be complete, and you’ll be able to flog any old shit to them so long as it is a ‘new album’ as they try to recapture their youth and the sunny glow of a 21st century future when the world was going to be a better place and the idea of someone like Trump ever ruling the planet would have reasonably generated the question which one because no way would it be Earth.

Why not? It worked for ‘Jeff Lynne’s ELO’.

McCartney is shit without Lennon. Paul Weller and Scones are shit without the Jam. You are shit without Fruitbat. Get over yourselves. Get back with yourselves.

Forget Christmas, why not give your middle aged fanbase something to celebrate this Christmas, tell them you are both getting back together for good, gigs for good, records for good, and flush that stupid solo nonsense down the toilet?

Just saying.

§ Behind Hywel Bennett, Ken Livingstone, Paul Merton, Roger Moore and Denis Wheatley – not in that order. Paul Merton’s the best thing to have come out of Streatham. There was also Lieutenant-Commander William Boaks who lived in Streatham when he got up to all his public safety silliness in the 1950s and 1960s, but he was from Walthamstow and that part of London needs to have an association with something good or it will be living down E17 until the fall of civilisation. Yes it did produced Benjamin Disraeli, Ian Dury and William Morris, but who remembers them?