Paul Danan, I presume?

Yo, Danan – I see ya. Yeah, you got that right punk. Well I’m callin’ yo out, yo got that?

Danan, thou wouldst eat thy dead vomit up, and howl’st find to find it, you dig? Yo just a fobbing swag-bellied ratsbane, yo a cockered rough-hewn clotpole, why if yo ever come in my hood dissin’ my homeboyz again, I'll spurn thine eyes like balls before me; I'll unhair thy head, thou shalt be whipp'd with wire, and stew'd'in brine, smarting in lingering pickle, capiche?

Why thou globe of sinful continents, what a life dost thou lead!

I’ve been watching yo sorry ass Danan, why yo so ugly in Hollyoaks, that thine horrid image doth unfix my hair yo got it? Thou hast nor youth, nor age, But as it were an after-dinner's sleep dreaming on both.

And Love Island man, what was dat homeboy? Yo brain is as dry as the remainder biscuit after a voyage, thou map of woe. And when you tried to shop lift da poontang of that hottie with the big rack, man, you could tell she were thinkin’ that thy kiss is comfortless as frozen water to a starved snake. I tell you Danan, thou whoreson mandrake, thou art fitter to be worn in my cap than to wait at my heels.

Test Drive My Girlfriend? Admit it Danan, your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth: If I have to watch thou vain scurvy-valiant whey-face on one more episode of Ant and Dec’s Saturday Night Takeaway I’m gonna puke my mofuckin’ guts up.

So Danan, yo go on a road trip with Calum “shard-borne apple-john” Best and Fran “weather-bitten pigeon-egg” Cosgrove in some mofo-assed pootie-wagon? All the way through, me and my homiez were sitting watchin’ E4 thinkin’ that you should be women, and yet your beards forbid us to interpret that you are so. Why, your bedded hair, like life in excrements, start up and stand on end, you dig?

We have a saying in Putney Danan: Your virginity, your old virginity is like one of our French wither'd pears: it looks ill, it eats drily.

Dig it.

Oskurs season

It strikes me how easy it is to write reviews of films – just take what somebody has said about one film and then use Word’s “find and replace” to put your film title in and then adjust the character names accordingly. To prove this, I’ve used the wikipedia analysis of Buñuel & Dali’s surrealist 1920’s masterpiece, “un chien andalou”, to provide my opinions on the classic porno “Butch Lesbian and the Lapdance Kid”.

“American film critic Roger Ebert called Butch Lesbian and the Lapdance Kid "the most famous short film ever made, and anyone halfway interested in the cinema sees it sooner or later, usually several times."

Critics have suggested that Butch Lesbian and the Lapdance Kid can be understood as a typically Buñuelian anti-bourgeois, anticlerical piece. The lesbian dragging a piano, donkey and priests has been interpreted as an allegory of the lapdancer's progress towards her goal being hindered by the baggage of society's conventions that she is forced to bear. Likewise, the image of an eyeball being sliced by a razor can be understood as the lesbian "attacking" the film's viewers. Also, Federico García Lorca viewed this film as a personal attack on him.

Some scholars argue that Butch Lesbian and the Lapdance Kid might be the genesis of the filmmaking style present in the modern music video. Others say it is among the first low budget independent pornos.”

See? It’s seamless. The above template would also work for Rear and Present Danger, A Tale of Two Titties, Ball the President's Men and In Diana Jones and the Temple of Poon.

Why so much popping?

Am I the only part-qualified white middle class ex-accountant out there who appreciates there's more to life than just bodypopping?

I mean, yeah, at one point a few years ago I'd live, breathe and eat that shit - I'd wake up in the middle of the night thinking, "Shit Pearce, how are you ever going to match up to "Boogaloo" Sam Solomon, Michael "Boogaloo Shrimp" Chambers or Paul "Cool Pockets" Guzman-Sanchez?" Their shit is so slick man, that I was losing weight worrying about the shear audacity of some of their dime stopping and ticking. And that's not to mention their strobing ability!

I feel that my obsession with body popping robbed me of a small, irretrievable section of my mid-twenties and I thank the Lord that I am now able to wake up in the morning, stick a bit of Grandmaster Flash on the ghetto blaster in the corner of my crib, lay down some rhymes on my girlfriend and then get on a packed tube knowing that all those around me, particularly those who work in the financial sector, are wracked with guilt that they are going to spend all day in front of a computer thinking about how best to master their "krazy legs" and "liquid dancing".

Jeez, I hate to think how the productivity of our city workers might be increased if they could purge their mind of all thoughts of popping, locking or even hot-funk breakdancing and concentrate on the auditting the third quarter results of a medium sized software company just off Cavendish Square. I'm sure some of these city hot-shots who have been stuck for the best part of a decade in a middle management role in a Big 4 accounting firm could have made partner had they spent a little more time consolidating those subsidiary companies' accounts instead of surfing endless bodypopping websites hoping they can glean any training tips that might help them get some shit over their opponents in any upcoming battles.

Whilst I still enjoy a little robotting in the privacy of my own home, I'm happy knowing that I am now able to walk past the bathroom section in John Lewis without wondering what sort of tight headspin the linoleum floor covering in that nice cream suite could offer me. I just hope others will realise that having outside interests does not exclude them from keeping their shit tight and their moves kick-ass dope.

Amen to that!