The Death of Margaret Thatcher

The backlash of this whole Thatcher thing is particularly odd for me, because her death comes one day after another death which, for me, is slightly more personal.

 

I won’t name any names or anything because the guy’s family and friends may well see this post, given his proximity to me, but a chap I knew recently died in rather grim circumstances at his workplace. This guy was a typical local lad and my main memory of him was that of him trying to stab me (and possibly kill me) in a chip shop in Alfreton.

 

The reason this has got me thinking is because it is an under-the-microscope version of the current Thatcher debate. I’m not glad that he’s dead because nobody deserves to die like that and I do feel sympathetically towards his family and friends, to whom I’m sure he was loyal, warm and important. But to me, he was the bloke who could have ended my life because he was a bit drunk and wanted to intimidate a smaller group of lads by cornering them in a tiny chippy. That is what he was to me when he was alive and it hasn’t changed with his death.
The very same can be said of Thatcher. She doesn’t deserve an alteration to my view of her, simply because she is dead and I am both incapable and morally opposed to the idea of bullshitting everyone about how I feel about her, simply because she has a family who are currently in mourning.

 

A good friend once told me that we all die twice; the first is when our life ends and the second is when we are forgotten. There are graveyards littered with people who have died twice, their headstones being too old and worn to even know what their names once were. What a terrible thing it is to know that these people were once loved and needed by many friends and family. Thatcher has been spared this terrible fate. She has died her one and only death and she is very lucky to have a legacy to leave. If some people wish to take offence to that legacy then all that will serve to do is add to it.

 

We should all be so lucky.

Most Disappointing Games of All Time – Final Fantasy XIII

I actually had a little deal going on with my local independent video game store back when this abomination came out. They’d clandestinely sell me games several days before release, when they came into stock. In return, I remained a loyal customer and kept my mouth shut about the technically illegal activities going on there. I paid a little extra for this privilege of course, because I wanted them as early as possible. This was the game that taught me the value of patience.

Final Fantasy XIII is an insult to every kid who cut his teeth playing Final Fantasy. To all of us who were inspired to write stories, make games, compose music or roll dice by any JRPG ever, this game is nothing more than a slap in the face with Square Enix’s ageing, hairy ball sack.

FF XIII is composed of an incredibly stupid opening cut-scene, in which we are introduced to a man with a bird in his afro (which is never fucking explained), followed by a 40-hour-long hallway. I mean, there is literally nothing in this game, which you would recognize as the positive defining features of a JRPG. There are no random battles, no vendors or shops, no opportunities to explore or roam the map (at least not until about 20 hours into it), no side-quests, no mini-games, no explanation as to why a man keeps a tiny bird in his afro, NO FUCKING SOUL! Whether you’re a fan of the genre or not, you have to accept that these are the mechanics which the fans enjoy. Why would any sane developer cut this stuff out?

What’s that I hear you crying? If the game is insanely linear and devoid of any freedom or distractions then surely, the combat and boss battles must be awesome and engaging? I mean, they weren’t random like in every other GOOD JRPG. They’re planned out and placed along the corridor of boredom, so they must be good right?

Well….no. Not only are they boring x-mashing fests of pointlessness, but there is also a button which allows the game to select the best move for you.

WHY WOULD ANYBODY EVER WANT TO WATCH TWO A.I’s BATTLING EACH OTHER IN A JRPG? It’s just a fucking glorified calculator!

Those of you who are the music buffs of the gaming world may be wondering if the game was saved by the almost universally flawless compositions of famed Square Enix composer, Nobuo Uematsu. Well, the answer is no because he didn’t work on any of the pieces in the game.

What a load of bollocks.

50 Shades of Ben Burns [Chapter 16]

It’s about that time of the month again when I end up reading another chapter of ‘50 Shades of Grey.’ It’s a bit like McDonalds in as much as I occasionally forget how shit it is and think it might be fun to try it again. Then I spend the next 48 hours hating myself for being stupid enough to give it a sixteenth chance. I think this chapter was my favourite so far because there were no bits about the contract and there was only a little bit about e-mails. I’m afraid this is the standard I’m working with here.

Chapter 16 begins with Christian getting angry because Ana wants to touch him on the tummy. He barks at her that he’s “50 shades of fucked up.” Ha……ha…….ha. I see what you did there E. L. James. Everybody knows you aren’t a proper writer until you clumsily cram the title of your novel into one of the middle chapters, in this case with about as much grace and subtlety as attempting to shove an angry Alsatian into a toilet bowl.

Next Christian begins telling Ana how many orgasms she’s had. Why does he keep counting things all of the time? Is he fucking autistic or something? He continues this quest for knowledge by asking Ana a series of ridiculous questions such as “when is your next period?” and “do you have a doctor?” Apparently Christian hates wearing a condom and wants her to get some contraception. Since he’s basically stealthing around her house, work-place and social life, appearing at will and raping her regularly, you’d think he’d have the decency to at least take care of the jonnies himself. But apparently that’s Ana’s problem as well. I find myself hoping she’ll storm his giant mansion waving a femidom sellotaped to a stick and screaming “freedom!” Maybe with Jo Brand in full battle armour behind her. Unfortunately, I seriously doubt it will happen because it wasn’t in the contract anywhere.

This next bit is brilliant! It’s probably my favourite bit so far. Christian starts beating the shit out of Ana and insisting that she count how many times he bitch-slaps her. In my head I’m imagining a violent, alcoholic version of the count from ‘Sesame Street’ slapping an unwilling slave-girl as his puppet mouth salivates like a rabid dog. “One slap! Two slap! Ah, ah, ah.” After noting it down in his ‘things I counted today for no reason’ journal he rams his cock up her arse, jizzes everywhere and then jumps in his car and pisses off home. I can see why she likes him so much.

Next Ana phones up her Mum, as I’m sure all girls do after having the shit kicked out of them whilst fanny-squirting all over the bedroom. For the first time in the novel we get a time-scale for the events. Apparently three weeks have passed. So just to recap, three weeks ago Ana was a shy virgin who had never been kissed, drunk or used the internet. Three weeks later she is the BDSM slave of a billionaire rapist vampire with alien fingers. Bull…fucking…shit. If there were any scraps of plausibility left in this novel, they just fucked off along with the five quid I wasted on it at WHSmith.

Next, Kate the shit journalist comes in and Ana immediately attempts to explain her bruises by claiming that she fell over and landed on her arse. It appears that we can add ‘learned to keep her mouth shut when her bloke knocks her about’ to the list of things that have changed about Ana in the last three weeks. Kate doesn’t suspect a thing, nor does she ask why there is a brand new car in the drive, nor does she ask about Ana’s brand new laptop or why there is champagne everywhere. Given that Ana is crying her eyes out by this point, you’d think she’d start joining the dots. I mean, you don’t have to be fucking Columbo to put this mystery to bed. SHE’S SUPPOSED TO BE A FUCKING JOURNALIST! AAAAARRRGGHHH! HOW DID THIS FUCKING BOOK GET PUBLISHED?!?!?!?!?

Next Ana checks her e-mails and finds that, surprise surprise, Christian has e-mailed her. I suppose he sent it while he was flying his helicopter because his fingers are certainly long and nimble enough to handle the strain. In the e-mail there is one particular line that jumped out at me. Now I swear I am not making this up, he actually says “you won’t like me when I’m angry.” Just take a moment to let the fact that the author stole a line from ‘The Incredible Hulk’ sink into your mind. Did your face go like this (-_-) ? Mine did.

Ana replies to his e-mail with the witty line “I’m not sure I like you anyway.” There are no points for guessing what happens next. As usual he immediately appears outside her door. Was he hiding in the bushes on the front lawn all that time? Does he have some sort of Doctor Who style travelling tardis? Nope, this book was just written by a simpleton. Bursting into her room, he explains to the crying Ana that he only hits her because it turns him on.

Oh, it’s okay guys. Don’t worry; He’s not really a morally-bankrupt mentalist. He’s only doing it because he finds it sexually arousing. Somebody call the cops and tell them it was all just a big misunderstanding.

But wait, there’s more. He explains to Ana that she must have enjoyed it too because she was aroused. What sound logic there from Count Fuckula. Seriously, this book really is a fucking disgrace. How can anyone advocate this kind of shit? Let me put this into perspective for you. In this scene, we have a crying young woman, sat in front of the bloke who beat her up as he tells her that it turned him on and demands that she admit that she enjoyed it too. It’s like something from a fucking Tarantino film. HOW IS THIS AROUSING TO ANY WOMAN? Why did the suffragettes even bother if this is what we’re left with in 2012?

The chapter ends with Christian agreeing to sleep in the bed with Ana as a compromise……as long as she doesn’t touch him, look at him or go anywhere near him. Erm…does Christian have any basic understanding of three-dimensional space? In fact, scratch that, does he know what the word ‘compromise’ means? He might as well have said, “I’ll sleep in the bed as a special treat and you can sleep on the floor and face the wall.” What a charmer, I can see why Ana enjoys taking his cock/punches in her arse/face.

B. Burns

I wrote a letter to Justin Bieber expressing my deepest sympathies for his current plight…

Hi Justin.

I thought I’d write you a little letter in the hopes that I can lift up your spirits and help you get back on your UK tour. I’m a musician like you. I sing and play guitar in a band called Blunderbuster. We’re sometimes on the road for extended periods of time and I often find that tempers will tend to get the better of us when we have to jump in and out of cars on a regular basis. We’re not that different you and I, so you have my deepest sympathies.

I know how hard you must be finding your long tour. I’m amazed by how long you’ve managed to keep it going. We’re lucky if we get any petrol money from our gigs and most of the time we have to fund the tour ourselves, but we (just like you) don’t mind because we genuinely love performing music for people. By my calculation you must be about $4,000,000 in debt from your tour so you must REALLY love performing music for your fans. You really are a ‘salt of the Earth’ young man and an inspiration to all real musicians around the globe.

I’ve noticed you have a lot of equipment on stage at your gigs. I can tell by your recent outburst of anger and frustration that you, like most musicians out there, have to load all of that gear into the van yourself, load it all onto the stage before the gig, set it all up and test it and then put it all back in the van at the end of the gig. I too sometimes find this process so tiresome that I just want to make idle threats to a big, hard-looking photographer.

Also, let’s not forget the song writing process. We all know how much personal effort goes into crafting a truly meaningful and creative piece of music. Not to mention the years of learning, practicing and studying that go into being proficient enough at an instrument to be able to create chord structures and melodies. I’m sure you, like most songwriters, have a deeply personal connection to the songs that you spent months rehearsing in freezing cold practice rooms and above filthy pubs with dodgy electrical wiring. But it’s all worth it to be able to tell an entire nation of your fans to fuck off. Because isn’t that what being an artist is all about?

We don’t have legions of pre-pubescent screaming girls at our shows, because we’re not as good as you. We have to make do with adults, but some of them are pretty hot and have big boobs so we get by alright. I sometimes wish I could say I’m never going back to a certain town or venue after a couple of extremely small, immature problems annoy me slightly. But another member of the band seems to think that’s the kind of thing a dick would do. He must be crazy or something because completely disregarding millions of people who pay to keep your insanely privileged dream alive is definitely the only solution to having a bad week.

Anyway. I hope you feel better soon and don’t have to go off stage at your next gig because you’re a little bit tired. I can appreciate how you felt there because I too sometimes have to work my normal 9 – 5 job during the day and then travel for 4 hours in a car to play a gig, get home at about 4am and then get up for work the next day.

Chin up sonny Jim.

B. Burns

5 annoying things that people do on trains in the UK

I’ve spent a lot of time on trains over the last year or so and I’ve decided to compile a list 5 annoying things that people do on trains in the UK.

FOOTBALL HOOLIGANS BEING DICKS
I love football, but some fans are massive jeb-ends. I once had a bunch of Crewe fans try and deliberately pour red stripe all over my laptop and then they proceeded to intimidate an old man. There was about 10 of them so it was obviously a fair fight.

PEOPLE WHO SIT IN THE QUIET ZONE AND DON’T SHUT THE FUCK UP
Seriously, can these idiots not read or are they just twats? I was once sat in the quiet zone and I had to listen to some fat bloke shouting about how awesome his wireless dongle was. All of the other passengers were looking at one another with a knowing glance that said “we collectively think this guy is a moron.”

PEOPLE WHO TAKE UP AN ENTIRE TABLE
How much of a selfish idiot do you have to be to take up an entire 4-seater table when you have no use for it? No teenage girl, you don’t need an entire table in order to check Facebook on your iPhone. Sit somewhere else so I can do some work you pleb.

PEOPLE WHO BLAST TUNES OUT OF THEIR SHITTY PHONE SPEAKERS
Seriously, why are you doing this? Even the best phones have speakers that make any music sound like its being played through a can of beans. Buy some headphones or read a book you tard.

PEOPLE WHO TRY TO RUGBY TACKLE THEIR WAY ONTO THE TRAIN
Everybody knows that you let people get off the train before you try to get on it. But there’s always one guy who thinks that he should just take a flying leap and spear everybody out of the way, probably so that he can take up an entire table. You’re a blight on the rail system and I wish you would do this before the train arrives, thus landing on the rails and sparing us all your lack of common courtesy.

B.Burns

50 Shades of Ben Burns [Chapter 14-15]

My 50 Shades of Grey reviews were put on hold because my hard drive decided to commit suicide. I don’t normally like having to spend £85 to replace things. But in this case, I found myself relishing having a great excuse to not read any more of this shit. But alas! The show must go on. So, as promised, here is chapter twelve in all of its abysmal glory.

Chapter twelve finds the boring slag who is the hero of this piece, going for a jog whilst listening to her iPod. Fuck knows how she was able to upload songs to an ipod, given that she has never used a computer before a few hours ago. But hey, did any of the previous chapters make any sense? Did they fuck.
After the jog, Ana e-mails Christian and tells him that she’s dumping him…..for a joke. Hahaha! You’re a fucking comedic genius Ana! Can you imagine what it would be like being friends with this woman? It must be like hanging around with the love child of Buzz Killington and a severely autistic steroid addict. So how does Christian react to this? He of course turns into Batman and just fucking appears behind her exclaiming “I felt that your e-mail warranted a reply in person”. How he managed to surprise her like this is anyone’s guess. Personally, I reckon he was hiding in her laundry basket, sniffing her knickers.
Anyway, knowing that he has just been chucked, Christian Grey does what any normal bloke would do and rapes Ana.

“No,” I protest, trying to kick him off.
He stops.
“If you struggle, I’ll tie your feet too. If you make a noise, Anastasia, I will gag you.
This would be shocking in any other novel, but since we’re averaging at least a molestation per chapter, this is pretty tame. What he does next is even more unfathomably weird. He decides to start gobbing in her mouth. Yes, he spits down her throat and then has the audacity to ask “is this nice?”

Wow, what a total fucking gimboid.

Obviously, Ana being mentally ill and desperate to get sectioned decides that she utterly fucking loves all of the saliva-based fun. The rest of this chapter is filled with more boring dialogue between ‘boring slag’ and ‘nosey bitch’. It isn’t funny and it certainly isn’t entertaining to read. We finish the chapter with Ana crying because she thinks Christian is using sex as a weapon against her.

NO FUCKING SHIT SHERLOCK!

Can Ana possibly get any less endearing or more retarded? Sadly, the answer will almost certainly be yes.

B.Burns

50 Shades of Ben Burns [Chapter 12-]

My 50 Shades of Grey reviews were put on hold because my hard drive decided to commit suicide. I don’t normally like having to spend £85 to replace things. But in this case, I found myself relishing having a great excuse to not read any more of this shit. But alas! The show must go on. So, as promised, here is chapter twelve in all of its abysmal glory.

Chapter twelve finds the boring slag who is the hero of this piece, going for a jog whilst listening to her iPod. Fuck knows how she was able to upload songs to an ipod, given that she has never used a computer before a few hours ago. But hey, did any of the previous chapters make any sense? Did they fuck.
After the jog, Ana e-mails Christian and tells him that she’s dumping him…..for a joke. Hahaha! You’re a fucking comedic genius Ana! Can you imagine what it would be like being friends with this woman? It must be like hanging around with the love child of Buzz Killington and a severely autistic steroid addict. So how does Christian react to this? He of course turns into Batman and just fucking appears behind her exclaiming “I felt that your e-mail warranted a reply in person”. How he managed to surprise her like this is anyone’s guess. Personally, I reckon he was hiding in her laundry basket, sniffing her knickers.
Anyway, knowing that he has just been chucked, Christian Grey does what any normal bloke would do and rapes Ana.

“No,” I protest, trying to kick him off.
He stops.
“If you struggle, I’ll tie your feet too. If you make a noise, Anastasia, I will gag you.
This would be shocking in any other novel, but since we’re averaging at least a molestation per chapter, this is pretty tame. What he does next is even more unfathomably weird. He decides to start gobbing in her mouth. Yes, he spits down her throat and then has the audacity to ask “is this nice?”

Wow, what a total fucking gimboid.

Obviously, Ana being mentally ill and desperate to get sectioned decides that she utterly fucking loves all of the saliva-based fun. The rest of this chapter is filled with more boring dialogue between ‘boring slag’ and ‘nosey bitch’. It isn’t funny and it certainly isn’t entertaining to read. We finish the chapter with Ana crying because she thinks Christian is using sex as a weapon against her.

NO FUCKING SHIT SHERLOCK!

Can Ana possibly get any less endearing or more retarded? Sadly, the answer will almost certainly be yes.

B.Burns

50 Shades of Ben Burns [Chapter 13-]

It’s been a while since I wrote any ‘50 Shades of Grey’ reviews and in that time a worryingly large number of people have asked me to keep doing them. Since I have a book-shelf full of good novels, I have repeatedly refused, but I’m getting stressed out with my own work this evening so I thought I’d slag off someone else’s to make me feel better about myself. So here it is; another 50 Shades review.

In the time that I’ve been away from the novel it appears E. L. James has crept into my room and re-written the whole fucking thing. Ana seems to have now acquired a) some fucking common sense and b) a pair of balls. In chapter 13 she sends a sarcastic and almost witty reply to one of Christian’s e-mails, she tells her creepy workmate Paul to fuck off and drives herself to a dinner date with Christian Grey in case she needs to “make a quick escape” in her own car.

By this point in the chapter, I was actually letting myself hope that maybe Christian would try it on and she’d karate chop him in the face, dropkick a waiter and dive through a window firing Uzis behind her before jumping onto a helicopter. Or some other more likely, but no less cool action sequence. Unfortunately, I couldn’t have possibly been further from the truth. What actually happens is Christian Grey tries to make himself sound sophisticated by vomiting out some drivel about the excellent wine cellar and then they talk about the fucking weather. They sound like a couple of old biddies stopping for a chat in Sainsbury’s. It’s mind-numbing.

More disappointment was to come as after Christian orders Ana some food (because what kind of stuck up bitch expects to be allowed to choose her own dinner when she’s on a date), he then proceeds to begin discussions on…..that’s right…..the bloody contract….again. I have read and written contracts that are smaller than the amount of contractual litigation in this book. NONE OF THEM WERE FUCKING ENTERTAINING! What was the author thinking? Did she have a whirlwind romance with Tony Blair and just had to make lawyers seem minge-vibratingly sexy?

I think Christian is beginning to get a little worried that Ana is becoming tired of contract negotiations, because what he does next can only be an attempt to impress her with his brilliant memory and top-notch counting skills. He tells her what he’s just observed her eating. “Three oysters, four bites of cod, and one asparagus stalk, no potatoes, no nuts, no olives….” WELL DONE CHRISTIAN! You’re a real prize catch. Seriously, what the holy fuck is going on in this conversation? It’s like talking to a homeless alcoholic at a bus stop.

Anyway, Christian’s basic toddler-like observational skills must have worked because Ana is so impressed that she decides to reward him with some sexy, suggestive action. Unfortunately for Christian, Ana’s idea of a demure hint is to start sucking off a piece of asparagus. I can’t think of a less sexy word than asparagus, it sounds like a fungal infection. Fortunately, the waiter comes and removes the plate before she can start shoving oysters up her minge.

After dinner, Christian gives Ana a quick lecture about motor safety. I’m honestly not making that up. I am beginning to think Christian is just some boring Geography teacher who has allowed a white lie to get way out of hand.

The chapter ends with Ana crying. She’s probably weeping for the future of English literature.

B.Burns

50 Shades of Ben Burns [Chapter 11-]

Those of you who have been following my ’50 Shades of Grey’ reviews may remember that I had a little moan (no pun intended) in the last one about having to read the whole of the rape contract, in its entirety. Well fucking hell! You’ll never guess what chapter 11 contains! That’s right, another sodding contract, and this time it’s about twenty pages long. I can’t help but ask myself what lawyer in the world would draw up this contract. If I went to a solicitor and said, “I’d like an insanely lengthy contract that allows me to”….and I quote from the actual text here….”anally fist” someone, I very much doubt any self-respecting lawyer would indulge me. More importantly, I don’t even bother reading the legally binding contracts that actually apply to me, such as the ones on itunes or any PC game I’ve ever installed. Why the fuck would I want to read one for fun in a book? Was the author injecting LSD into her eyeballs when she wrote this?

I can’t help but think that Ana is getting a bit of a raw deal. Article 13 of her contract states that; “The Dominant reserves the right to dismiss the Submissive from his service at any time and for any reason.” As you can see here, she isn’t even getting the basic workers’ union rights that we expect in post-Thatcher Britain. My favourite part of the contract was where it says “No acts involving children or animals”. Apparently this isn’t obvious already and they both need to sign a legally binding contract to stop Christian Grey from bringing a class full of primary-school kids and a herd of mountain goats into the bedroom.

“What comes after this ‘director’s cut’ version of the contract” do I hear you asking? Well of course it’s the only thing that can make this story interesting after such a dip in the action….a fucking questionnaire. Ana fills out what I can only describe as the most mind-bendingly bizarre questionnaire I’ve ever encountered in my life. Allow me to provide you with a sample from it:

Which of the following do you prefer?
- Masturbation
- Fellatio
- Cunnilingus
- Vaginal Intercourse
- Vaginal Fisting
- Anal Intercourse
- Anal Fisting

Quite how the fuck Ana is supposed to know about any of this escapes me, considering she had never even been kissed before a few hours prior to being given this pop-quiz. But never mind, the author clearly didn’t expect any of the readers to ask complex questions about the storyline when they’re busy flicking the bean.

Anyway, Ana goes home and goes to bed. The next morning, she wakes up and Mr Grey has sent her a MacBook Pro in the mail. According to the courier it’s a bit special because “These aren’t available in the shops yet……the very latest from Apple.” Yes, you read that correctly, according to this novel, Apple Mac give away free laptops that aren’t even out yet in the shops, to random students. My big, fat, hairy, Derbyshire arse they do!

Next, the delivery man starts rattling off the specifications of the Macbook (really interesting stuff here) and this is where the novel takes a turn for the better. It suddenly becomes a sci-fi fantasy-thriller with technology that is far beyond our mortal reach. “It’s got the latest OS and a full suite of programs, plus a one-point-five terabyte hard drive so you’ll have plenty of room, thirty-two gigs of RAM.”

BULLSHIT!

Thirty two gigs of ram it up your arse you fucking twat. I can only assume that the author just looked up the specs of her macbook and multiplied them by eight to make it sound really kick-ass and expensive.

So what does Ana do with the navigational systems from the Starship Enterprise? She has a look on Wikipedia. Obviously, Wikipedia is the most suitable place to do research when you’re considering signing your fistless vagina away for a good rogering. What a stupid idiot.

B.Burns

50 Shades of Ben Burns [Chapter 10-]

I’m now about a third of the way through 50 Shades of Grey. If this was ‘The Lord of the Rings’ then I’d be in Rivendell right now. I feel a certain kinship with Frodo Baggins. I understand how it feels to have to carry a great burden, every moment it eats away a little bit of your soul, poisoning you, turning you into something evil and dark. Last night I approached a woman in the pub and asked her to sign my terms of service contract so that I could legally groan at her. Her boyfriend called me gay and beat me up. Anyway, as I predicted, I’ve only read one more chapter. This isn’t because I couldn’t hack it or because I got bored. It’s because this chapter was so fucking inanely mental that I literally wrote a bloody essay on it. I have actually had to edit this review because it was well over a thousand words when I finished it.

In chapter ten we learn that Ana is even more of a useless mong than we had previously been lead to believe. That’s a pretty amazing statement when we consider the things that she hasn’t done or cannot do. Let’s recap them shall we? She has never been kissed, shagged, got drunk or held hands. She can’t understand the difference between flattery and rape. She thinks that not liking cheese and wanting to rape people is roughly the same thing. She also doesn’t understand how kitchens work.

So what else can’t she do? Well apparently, she doesn’t know how to use the internet, or even a computer for that matter. “Internet! I don’t have access to a computer”, she explains. SHE IS A FUCKING STUDENT! How is this even possible? I really hate Ana Steele, I wouldn’t piss on her if she was on fire. I honestly believe that pac-man had a deeper personality than Anastasia Steele. At least he made cool noises and beat up ghosts. God I wish Ana would beat up some ghosts.

“But what about that cliff-hanger at the end of chapter nine?” I hear you shouting. “What happened when Christian’s mum came into the house while Christian and Ana were grinding away?” The answer is…..fuck all. No, I’m not joking, she served no literary purpose whatsoever. She was just there for a page or so and then fucked off. Why is this? Only the extremely deranged and confused mind of this book’s author can answer that. Let’s not bother asking her. After all, we certainly don’t want to encourage her to write any more books.

I can’t help but feel like the author is running out of things for Christian Grey to do because you’ll never guess what he does next……that’s right, he drives his fucking car again. Last time we were in Christian’s car, he was playing ‘Sex on Fire’ by ‘Kings of Leon’ on his stereo. This time he plays ‘I’m on Fire’ by ‘Bruce Springsteen’. Does he have an exclusively fire-based playlist? Is this because his soul burns with a fire that merely needs the love of a good woman to douse it? Or is it because the author has the level of imagination of a corned beef pasty, but unfortunately probably doesn’t taste anywhere near as good?

In the next scene, Christian’s early morning, lonely piano playing begins to make sense. He is indeed a tortured soul, as we find out that an old lady used to strap up and bum him every day for six years when he was a teenager. Once again, I am absolutely not making this up. This book is like the diary of a mad-man. ‘Alice in Wonderland’ was a more realistic work of fiction than this novel. Anyway, even though he wanted her to, this was apparently an act of abuse and totally explains why he’s such a weirdo. The author doesn’t bother explaining why this experience has damaged him so much. I like to imagine it was because he wasn’t entirely satisfied with article 7b in their contracted agreement. It probably stated something along the lines of “The submissive will not be a boring twat”, making it very hard for Christian to comply with his contractual obligations. Christian then explains that being raped by an old lady made it hard for him to do his homework. Again, I am honestly not making this up. The worst thing about being repeatedly raped is that he couldn’t study with relative ease. Absolutely Un-be-fucking-lievable.

Back at Ana’s apartment, everyone’s favourite nosey bitch, Kate, starts asking Ana how big Christian’s willy is. Then, out of the blue, Jose the Mexican rapist phones up and accuses Ana of only being with Christian for the money. Ironically, a cash transfer is one of the few things that isn’t in the contract. I know this because the book actually contains the entire contract in one of the earlier chapters and fucking muggins here actually read the whole thing.

Ana has another conversation with herself before going to bed. I’m starting to think she might be schizophrenic because she keeps referring to things being said by her “inner goddess”. Since she isn’t in a fucking shampoo commercial, I can only assume that she should seek immediate medical attention.

B.Burns