Your Fesshole editor has done a book, a response to the world being dominated by AI slop, he's gone back to his ZX81 & written 81 jokes and also, illustrated each one using the exact limitations of this 1981 computer. All by hand. Buy it for Xmas. spelk.press/gb/products/81-j…

ALT “Ridiculously niche but ridiculously joyful” Richard Herring “Greatest book ever made and you win. Profound.” Joel Morris (Philomena Cunk co-creator) “Bloody amazing” M. J. Hibbert (Hey Hey 16K songwriter) “Excellent vintage humour. Lifts corny to an art.” Otto English “A ZX Triumph. The joke book I never knew I needed.” Ben Wheatley (film director)
I'm usually the last person to bed and get lumbered with hanging out the washing as people "forget" it's in the machine. I always use the lovely wooden hangers for my clothes and the terrible cheap plastic hangers for theirs if they have upset me. So up yours you bumholes
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In the UK in the 1990s BT phone boxes had a physical hack. You could put five pound coins in the slot and then stuff a bit of wire up into the phone. Out came your coins, but it didn't realise. You could chat for five quids worth. Stole 100s from BT with this.
In Kindergarten, after my mum had explained to me how babies are made, I thought that adults propositioned each other by saying "Let's do Willy-in-Vagina". I also thought it quite unrealistic that - according to mum - the man never accidentally peed inside the woman.
Company I work for has gone all in on AI slop. I've started to report everything on LinkedIn from them using the "this is AI slop" function. I hope it stops people seeing it and the company goes bust, I don't give a shit about it here anymore and want out, redundancy pay is good.
Every morning my dog and I have a standoff on the way back home after the morning walk. He wants to go down the road where he once found a half eaten sausage roll, and I want to go down the parallel road where the mum in her dressing gown gives me a cheeky wave from her lounge.
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A teen in the 90s, I'd prowl the neighbourhood in the evening, stealing gnomes from gardens. I'd then place those gnomes doorsteps, ringing the bell and running away. If no gnome, an upside-down wheelie bin would do. Now almost 50, I'm sorry if you were one of those people.


