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Posts Tagged ‘HAH! Foreigners’

Oh, Look, Another Video.

Posted by idetest on May 31, 2011


If this video doesn’t make sense to you then chances are we wouldn’t be friends. Just sayin’.


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Mon dieu!

Posted by idetest on May 25, 2011

Hot French bitch is hot, French and the HBIC

Also, I too love to sit in the bath fully dressed and play badminton in my living room, don’t you?

And that hipsters are annoying in non-English speaking countries too.

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Oooo Burn Finland!

Posted by idetest on May 9, 2011

Yeah, take that you herring eating, sauna obsessed Scandies!

(Actually just last night I was espousing to a couple of Spaniards that they could solve all of Spain’s unemployment and financial woes by invading Portugal – cause it’s not like anyone would notice, is it?)

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Australia Gets Owned: Tommorow, When The War Began – A Movie Review (Mate)

Posted by idetest on April 13, 2011


G’day cobba, sheilas and all my little possums from down on the farm.

Yes, children, once again I left the house so you don’t have to.


Let us discuss the latest masterpiece of the much derided genre of ‘teenagers doing things they can’t in real life’. And this addition’s quite substantial.

First off a disclaimer: I have read all seven of the books. And no, I’m no ashamed

Some points.

1) The girl from Neighbours has a strange accent but manages to carry the film quite nicely

2) Pity the same can’t be said for several of her castmates who lack …how shall we say? Any acting talent

3) The guy from Home and Away. Yeah he’s not all that much face wise but once he gets his shirt off it’s a whole other ball game.

4) The CGI and special effects: surprisingly good for a fairly low-budget film.

5) Unfortunately many of the jokes, themes and other recurring instances of what it’s like to be an Australian teenager didn’t carry over too well. It just mostly cluttered up the action scenes with unnecessary dialogue that didn’t really go anywhere and wasn’t especially amusing.

6) They’ve already announced films two and three.

Also I’m glad they actually made the enemy Asian rather than leaving it non-descript as it would have become a bit “Eh?” if so and also one does like that it was updated with everyone checking their cell phones every five minutes and using skype. Also I was glad they got rid of all the endless reminiscing. so much reminiscing in that book. Most of it to do with girls doing dodgy thing with their underwear and a slightly creepy overtone of a middle-aged man writing stories about teenage girls getting their periods.


Few things that did rankle me though: I don’t remember several of the characters being as annoying as they were in the book (I mean the female ones; particularly the Christian girl who I recall was more hands on.) but what can you do? Any adaptation is bound to be rife with changes. They can’t please everyone.


All in all it’s far from perfect but it is tense and does have some good car chases and action scenes. And, I have to admit…Austrlaia does look nice.

It’s still a shit hole though.


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Invade Canada Now. Or Die In The Eventual War (I’m going for subtle here, too much?)

Posted by idetest on March 23, 2011

I found this here.  I agree with everything it says. In fact, I do not think it goes far enough

Canada is also:

1) Full of maniacal serial killers (who are then captured by Angelina Jolie). Also people what do decapatations on intercity buses.

2) Second largest country, area wise, in the world. What are they hiding that they need so much space for?

3) Full of Catholics

4) Home to a nation of people that thinks men body slamming each other agaisnt a pane of glass is a healthy sport while carrying 6 ft sticks. Obviously borderline psychopaths and probably driven mad by the cold.

5) Probably in cahoots with the Russians, the Chinese or the Jews. Probably all three. And the Mexicans.

6) Has a socialised helath care system that it won’t shut up about (note; this is not a bad thing, but merely something what annoys moi).

All in all, I think still think we should invade.

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Well I have one in Leopard Print. So there!

Posted by idetest on October 18, 2010

So my beloved M.I.A. went out dressed like this the other night to an award show.

So basically what she’s trying to say here is that the recent burka ban in France was bad? Or that women who wear burkas are not being persecuted and oppressed because it’s their choice? Or that they are because it isn’t their choice? Or that in the west we misjudge them? Or that we misjudge M.I.A. and don’t really know her? (admittedly this is a strong possibility as Americans who comment about her are often surprised to discover she’s not an American let alone a British born Sri Lankan) Or is she saying that what’s on the outside does/doesn’t matter and we don’t really know someone by seeing them and prejudging them? Or is she saying “Dang this is some cool shit I picked up at duty-free in Islamabad?”

Well whatever. When I get blown up on the tube by a suicide bomber I’ll know who to blame.*

*Americans. Because you couldn’t just let Obama take over and make us all into Muslim Socialists, could you? Tea Party cunts.

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Dear diary; the weeketh ending 12/9/10 (Part 1)

Posted by idetest on September 13, 2010

Hola bitches

Let us once again delve into my life because as you can see this is becoming less of a blog and more of a way for me to stay sane.

On Saturday last I worked at Twickenham, which is a big stadium out in the leafiest of leafyville suburbs in SW London where only the middle class may dwell. They have identity cards. You can be stopped at any time and forced to show your nectar card or have your fridge inspected to make sure you have hummus.

Anyway after being told for several years the rugby is the game of bourgeois suburbia in this country I can tell you; no it’s not . The fans for these games are just as plebian as those who I serve hot dogs to at the Fulham Football grounds. Except here there ism ore space and it’s warmer.

The only upside of this crushing disappointment was my ability to stalk a cute Italian guy.  And by gods he is cute; seriously this guy has the perfect face and I may die. He’s just breathtaking. However I was unsure of his name so for the past several shifts have been referring to him as Luka. Apparently that is not his name. I often do this: I’m not sure if I just assign these people names in my mind or if I hear them and just think it is their name. But either way it was not his name. And he doesn’t like being called it. Oops.

On monday I travelled to deepest darkest East Acton to go look at a flat while the rest of London ran home as quickly as possible to avoid the tube strike. I went and saw flat. It was gorge- though slightly awkward as I realised I’d gone and seen it last year but had turned my nose up at its bimbo inhabitants. However this time as I was shown the same room and I fell in love with it (a double bed! Storage! Two bathrooms!) it was I who was rejected. I blame my bad hair day.

The next day the tube strike in full swing, I was booked to work at the Museum of London. which is in The city. For those of you unsure of what that is , it’s the 2000 year old bit of London what Russell Crowe and Spartacus would have hung around in which is now the hub of the financial district and has more gazillionares per square inch than a whorehouse during a stock market crash.

So after four buses and three hours to get there (I travelled through areas such as Willesden (bomb it. Bomb it now.) and Islington (Move me there. Move me there NOW.) and saw such sights as a group of West Indian drunks having an argument/fist fight at bus stop and the entire teenage pregnancy community of North London getting on at one stop I have decided that ew, buses are for poor people and never again shall I grace them with my divine presence. Until the next strike.

Anyway so the shift: well, it was for hedge fund managers. Yes, they’re still so wealthy they can afford to hire out museums for shindigs. Anyway, what’s more important is a) cute guys and b) Jimmy Carr was booked to do stand up. Lord help me. The man is irritating. But annoyingly funny. Incidentally a friend texted me the night before squealing with delight that she has just seen Cillian Murphy on Oxford St and how she intended to stalk and/ or marry him. I text back saying I’d just got to see Jimmy Carr. She thought I meant he was hot. Hilarity ensued.

Anyway, the tube was working again to it only took me two hours to get home. On Wednesday I started my temporary job as a banqueting porter for a club – because, and oh my god so much with the gossip. Pay close attention chicos: The General Manager who liked a drink and also liked a grope with one of them any Lithuanian waitresses was fired after being accused of a) attempted rape of an underage girl at the staff summer barbecue and b) because he had been for the better part of a decade swindling the company out of thousands by falsifying the alcohol orders so he would end up with a free never-ending personal supply of vodka. Escandalo indeed.

Then the manager of the drawing-room (where incidentally they film scenes for Harry Potter), who is an elderly Chinese drunk who looks like he had a stroke and then was beaten around the face with a steel pipe, and was the GM’s best friend was sacked because he’s been drunk continuously since oh, about 1984. And they finally decided that maybe he shouldn’t be sitting around harassing the waitresses while the Ambassador to Germany, The Duke of Bumsexshire et al is watching.

Then they also fired the Banqueting Porter who was a Polish bloke who’d done things such as, breaking into the valet rooms to steal the alcohol out of there. Also the head chef who was covering up GM’s affairs and harassment of  waitresses were too scared to say no lest they were fired. But they were also several waitresses who were fired because they weren’t involved but covering it up as well. Oh those dodgy Lithuanians. Oh, and there’s a pregnancy involved in there somewhere but I’m unsure of where.

Part 2. Coming soon.

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Movie Review: Inception – it’s not just the capital of Paraguay

Posted by idetest on July 21, 2010

Hola Chicos

So I went to see this movie- even though I wanted to go see Shrek Goes Forth. But I went to see it on my friend’s insistence and my friend is Northern so whenever she says anything in a stern tone of voice it scares me and I get the shakes. Okay, admission: I have the shakes most of the time but that’s for a different reason. Anyway here are my thoughts on this hot mess.

Mirror Mirror; who's the fairest of them all?

A) So no Shrek for this?

B) It’s very loud. I’m not sure if I’m getting old or if movies are just getting louder but it as really interrupting my power nap (I’d had long, hot, tiring day okay?).

C) So not-a-lesbian-just-butch-and-Canadian-chick-from-Juno is the second main character after I’m flying Jack Leo DiCaprio. Thank heavens she’s learnt to act a little. If I had to sit through another movie where she gets called “Fertile Myrtle” I’d cut a bitch. THEY DON’T EVEN RHYME.

D) Joseph Gordon-Levitt is going to ruin the waistcoats and well cut suit look. Remember how full length leather jackets were kind of cool and mysterious before The Matrix (Go with me here) and then people started imitating that movie and then we all realised that the type of people what wear them smell a bit and usually spend all their life at LAN parties? Yeah, well in 10 years time we’ll look at Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s hot little booty in them there well cut trousers and sigh with nostalgia at the pain it would go on to cause.

E) It’s one of those movies where the bad guys can’t aim but all the good guys could be aiming the guns up their own arses and still shoot ‘em dead every time.

F) There’s a mountain base/evil spy lab in the mountains where they run around in camouflage ski get-up. It all gets a bit James Bond does LSD at this point.

G) Michael Caine plays an Architecture professor at some prestigious looking Parisian university. It comes across more like Carry on up the Sorbonne if you ask me, but whatevs.

H) Oh, he’s also playing Jack from the Lower Decks father.  Make of this what you will.

I) They go to Mombasa and Tokyo. Points scored for geography lessons to Americans.

J) Cillian Murphy. I’ve nothing to say about this. Except…Cillian Murphy is still pretty. However the fact he never gets to use his own Irish accent in movies is A CRIME. A CRIME I tells ya. Though maybe it’s for our own safety. If he came on to the screen and was all “Top o’ the mornin’ to ya” or whatever Irish for hello is, the amount of en masse multiple orgasms could topple the globe off its axis and we’d all be fucked then as we spiralled through the galaxy all a loss because of some Gaelic Prick.

K)  Also since Cillian Murphy’s character was coming from Australia were we supposed to be believing that him and his Pops were some kind of Murdoch lite ripoff?  Or was it just a coincydink?

Aside from that the movie’s pretty lame. The SFX (is that the right lingo to use?) are pretty good but they don’t seem to setting the nerds a sweatin’ so there obviously not that new and shiny. Which is what you want for a movie like this-as essentially it is The Matrix: rejigged and tweaked a bit.

Go see it if you must. Just don’t expect it to be anything on a par with Antonio Banderas voicing an obese randy ginger cat. Oh, how you make me laugh.

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The Motherland better get back in that kitchen

Posted by idetest on June 27, 2010

The British Confuse me. I wrote a post about the little differences that irked and amused me between the place but here is a list of things that genuinely annoy me and I just don’t understand. Or the things that when I first arrived made my jaw drop.  And it wasn’t just the spitting and pissing in the streets.

This is by no means saying I don’t like London or the UK. I do, it’s just there are differences and certain drawbacks to any country and these are the ones I’m confused by, and the ones that for some reason I seem to be constantly dealing with and having to explain to others that ‘no, not every other country has this problem, we fixed it decades ago.’

I’ll start with a small one. In other countries it’s called a coffee plunger. Because you plunge it into your coffee. Here, it’s a cafetiere. I once got a death look for laughing at a guy in a gay bar who was trying to chat up my friend who said this. Silly boy didn’t know my friend only sleeps with Eastern Europeans.

There is no air conditioning in this country. Yes, it does make sense because for 9 months of the year Britain is a frozen hellhole where polar bears roam the streets and everyone wears four coats and only leaves the house to try to club  a seal to death for food. I may be exaggerating. I may not be. But this is the 21st century. Even things we don’t need we have. So why the fuck don’t y’all get fucking AC? Especially in London which, when hot is UNBEARABLE, as is filled with tiny claustrophobic spaces and heat trapping buildings and where the temperature never decreases at night. Frankly anyone opening a business installing these things would be able to retire in about an hour.

Everything closes so bloody early on a Sunday. Britain mocks countries such as mine for being stuck in the 1950s (It’s not completely…though admittedly there is Motueka. We’ll call it even) but supermarkets in my country stay open past 10pm on weeknights and don’t close at 4pm on Sundays. Yes 4pm. You read that right. And this is in London.

ATMS. I’ve bitched about the British finding debit cards confusing. There is a reason for this. Half the ATMs are not proper ones supplied by the banks. Instead they are pissy little machines in the corners of small shops which charge you up the arse for using them. Grr.

Why oh, why is the tube not 24/7? If I wanted to take a bus, I’d take a bloody bus. I don’t want to however, as I don’t want to spend two fucking hours making awkward small talk with a homeless man and a drunk 16-year-old who I’m worried might be about to either shit himself or, worse, vomit on me (if he shits himself, what do I care? If he vomits on me I’ll have to kill him. And frankly at 3am I can’t be fucked cleaning up the evidence. Dexter I ain’t). Just let the tubes run, people will take them, it will not bankrupt the city. Maybe just one or two and hour between 1am and 5am? They don’t even have to go the whole line (Does anyone really live in Cockfosters? I mean, seriously people are willing to deal with the sniggering every time they have to give out their address?), just to zones 2-3? Think about it Boris. I know you’re a loopy toff who thinks cheese is blue and the sky is made of watermelon or something but you seem like a vaguely good kind of guy underneath.

Tabloids. No, seriously, what? The Sun? This is a parody right? A highly complex marketing campaign by some forward thinking PR company who are advertising something (I haven’t worked out what it is yet. Tits? Puns?)? Am I warm? Let’s pretend I am for all our sakes. Also Q: Am I allowed to judge fairly intelligent, well dressed, middle class looking people who are reading it? I know they are getting it with a coupon or something as I have a friend who does this (I won’t be seen with her in public) and I judge the chavs who read it obviously. But what about these people? Is there a code of practice?

The British think they invented everything and are leading the way and so much more modern in every other way. They refuse to believe the world has caught up to them. Like it’s bloody 1850 or something. It’s one of the many things that if they fail to realise they share with their American cousins. Anti smoking laws? Everyone has those. Women’s voting rights? Actually you were quite a way down the line on that. National Health systems? Most countries have something like it. Gay Marriage? Well, lovies you didn’t exactly bolt out of the gate on that one either. And your archaic voting system makes no sense either.

Ethnic ghettos. In New Zealand we have about four foreigners (I lie, but I can’t be bothered trying to convince people that the Land of the long white cloud is not some sort of outpost for the Third Reich. It’s a country of immigrants. Think about this before the next time you ask me if I’ve ever met an Arab/Lithuanian/Indian person before.) so our suburbs are fairly homogenous – except the poor ones which – and everyone has a housekeeper called Alice. But here in London there are huge swathes of the city where it’s strange to see anyone not fitting into the one prevalent ethnic group. Examples: Wembley and Southall for Indian, Mile End and the Tower Hamlets area for Bengali…Ealing for Poles (only noticeable due to devout Catholicism…it gives off an aura – of guilt), any dodgy South London council estate for West-Indians- there’s a worrying attitude south of the river that suburbs are for white people and black people should live like sardines in high-rise flats. Go to Vauxhall, go and see if I’m lying. All this means that it feels uncomfortable to go to these areas. Everyone knows that London is a city of haves and have-nots, and the how much money you have has much more of an effect on your quality of life here than it would somewhere else, but it really starts to come home when you realise how much these areas and statistics on child poverty, unemployment, crime and drug use start to overlap. London gets a big fat FAIL for this

Also Chips vs. Crisps. Y’know what yes, we do call all type of potato based products ‘chips’ and no, we never get confused by what we mean, whether it be hot chips, frozen chips (otherwise known as oven chips), potato chips, fries, or other new world-vegetable based nutritional excitement. We cope.

And on that note it’s time to be quittin’ my bitchin’ for fear of ethnic reprisals and to go and see if there’s rioting in the streets and weird, perverse opposite Kristallnacht situation going on over the football.

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My sheep bladders bring all the boys to the yard.

Posted by idetest on June 27, 2010

B: Yes, yes, maybe, no , maybe, get a haircut F: Yes, yes, maybe, yes, maybe.

Today, on this most auspicious of days I came to conclusion I’ll never fit in with the rest of society. The reason I discovered this was, despite the fact that it’s boiling (broiling?) today and the sun is shining, the birds are tweeting and there is nay a rain cloud in the sky but there was not a person outside.

I wandered like a startled lamb (big eyes, all white outfit; Looked SPECTACULAR) through the park near my house for nigh on three minutes, (so long I hear you ask? Well I had a sit down halfway through) and saw not a soul. Saw some drunk Polish guys, but y’know in my neighbourhood that’s fairly de rigueur. It’s when they’re not there you worry.

It was as I wandered twirling my parasol and crying out that I was in fact a lady to rubbish bins as I passed them that I realised why my local park had in fact gone all post armageddon/zombie attack. The gosh darn-it football was on.

You see it was the epic grudge match, WWIV between our fair, sportsmanlike, handsome and dashing English team versus the imperialistic, barbarous, Huns from the continent who routinely put babies on spikes and enjoy nothing more than schadenfreude.

The Huns won by their trickery and deceit and by using magic potions. The English fought bravely and gallantly but it was to no avail. Or something like that.

As I arrived home to chez Moi only to find my flatmates ensconced on the sofas with their respective boyfriends. All were getting their mid afternoon drank on and yelling at the television, whooping and a-hollering (yes, a-hollering I tell you! Next up they’ll be havin’ a hootenanny) like only straight people can about sports. I stuck my head in the door to be set upon with a barrage of crass remarks regarding my state of sobriety and other such things. I retreated to my room for some calming cross stitch.

It has however led me to surmise on several things about this here world cup.

  1. I do not care for patriotism. It insists upon itself.
  2. If soccer wants to be taken seriously and be played in more than like four countries they really have to stop this falling down and going ‘Oooh, owwwsies, he pushed me. Betch’ habit. It’s just embarrassing for everyone.
  3. Germans have funny names. As do everyone else. But the Germans are the worst. Silly Germans.
  4. Vuvuzelas. They should be given out to lawyers in court room dramas from now on.
  5. Italians do not look good in shirts. Why do they insist on wearing them?
  6. What the fuck is the offside rule?
  7. Where exactly is South Africa? Has it always been there? Why have I not heard of this country before? Has it just been discovered? And if not why am I just hearing about all the people living there? Particularly in documentaries about child abuse and prostitution.
  8. Face painting. Huh.
  9. When will my dream of the faceoff between Somalia and Kyrgyzstan happen? C’mon it’ll be quite the battle royale. Just don’t let any ethnic Uzbeks in.
  10. And to quote the New Zealand comedian on Mock the Week, who I watched through my fingers as he was so spectacularly cringe-worth (actually, he wasn’t but it’s a New Zealand characteristic to find everything your country does as cringe-worthy and unintentionally humiliating) “Why don’t they just pick that shit up and run with it?”

It’s going to be a long summer if this keeps up.

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