You people have to see this. Urgently.
*doubleleaf is a rare kind of deviant, in that the work that she produces is consistently AMAZING.
Without doubt.
Snake's Yogurt Night by *doubleleaf on deviantART
This is the first deviation of hers that I saw (and, in a rather pervy MGS-nerd way, adored), which led me to her Yoghurt Nights series.
Honestly, she has the best male characters from pretty much the best games known to fangirl-kind:
Prince of Persia, Assassin's Creed, the afore-mentioned Metal Gear Solid.
And they're all half-naked.
And smeared in yoghurt.
With pink spoons.
The best way to describe it would probably be 'phallic imagery overload'.
Prince Dastan's Yogurt Night by *doubleleaf on deviantART
Ezio's Yogurt Night by *doubleleaf on deviantART
Not only this guys, but look further into the depths of her vast gallery, and she has Ghost in the Shell, Splinter Cell, Final Fantasy, Star Wars, more MGS...tons of Assassin's Creed...
Eeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!
Looking through it on slideshow actually makes you squeal out loud with joy at the computer screen.
Raiden by *doubleleaf on deviantART
Let's end on some more MGS.
Happy February! Don't forget to go check *doubleleaf's gallery. Now.
Tuesday, 15 February 2011
Monday, 10 January 2011
Dear Dot. 4.
Eighty-four-year-old Dorothy Peakins has a Master's degree in Tetris and has wrestled a giant aardavark. And won. Or so she claims. Actually, she does have that snout-shaped scar on her back...and the aardavark's face on her bedroom wall...
Anyway, she's gonna solve your problems and shit now.
Dear Dot,
Does the one time still apply when it's twice?
From Bill in Finance.
Well, 'Bill in Finance'. It isn't exactly customary for people to willingly reveal their names to me in their little messages...but I like your style. You've got class luv, not to mention guts.
Anyhow, I'm not entirely sure what you mean by your problem, so I'll give you a few options.
If you're on about sex, then no, you had sex twice- not once, twice- and now you're twice as likely to have contracted a venereal disease. Live with it.
If you're talking about sexual encounters with your boss' wife, then no- it doesn't make much difference whether it was once or twice, if he finds out then you're stilled fucked. Therefore I encourage you to seduce her again and again and again- as many times as you can! This could bloom into a fully-fledged affair! Proper life experience, that is.
If you meant anything else, then I can't be fucking arsed to think up any more replies. Goodnight.
Dear Dot,
How can we get all these here foreigners stealing English jobs out of OUR country? It's bloody annoying.
What do you think this is, a Daily Mail column? You might not know this mate, but I'm not English. Sure, I was brought up in Yorkshire, but I wasn't born there. No, sir. I was born in Moscow. To Russian parents. You hear that? I'm RUSSIAN!
Back in the 1920's, I was known as Dorofeia Georgiyevna Raskov- how much more bloody 'foreign' could you get? Of course, after my parents fled the Communist uprising, that got changed to Dorothy to help me assimilate into British culture, and Peakins was my third...or fourth husband, God rest his soul.
So piss off, you racist bastard. My left arse cheek has probably done more for this country in the past fortnight than you've achieved in your whole life.
Dear Dot,
I wrote to you a while back about my enormous feet and how they were ruining my life.
Well, I'm pleased to tell you that I've turned all of that around! I got a job as a clown (at your suggestion), which provided a route into stand-up comedy for me. Now, I get paid thousands just to stand around and talk to drunkards! What more could I want in life?
Oh yes, my problem.
Where should I put that new flat-screen TV that I just bought? Above the hearth or the snooker table? I had it on the floor, but kept spilling 50-year-old malt liquor and Playboy bunnies on it.
Shove it up your arse.
And learn a bit of modesty, kid.
Sorry, I'll calm down. That BNP bloke's got me all riled up.
Phew.
...
Shove it up your arse.
Dear Dot,
My mates are all pricks. What should I do?
Well, that depends on what kind of pricks they are. Are they popular pricks? If so, suck up to them and become a 'best mate' to all of them. Seriously- they'll take you to parties, raves, riots, maybe even (if they're posh) hunting trips, where you might be able to snag a deer. Or a farmer. Eventually, when they dump you in the gutter after someone even more subservient comes along, firebomb their houses.
If they're unpopular pricks, chances are that you'll love them for who they are inside or whatever, so there ain't much point me saying anything much, because you wouldn't be asking what to do with them.
You know that already.
Run like the wind.
OMG every FUCKING time I play FUCKING Space Invaders I can't get the LAST FUCKING SHIP!!! AAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!! I WILL KILL YOU ALL!!!!!!
Shoot where it's going to be, rather than where it is.
Sorry for being rather terse today kids- the expletives-to-normal-words ratio in that blog there was shocking even for me. I've had some bad news though.
Ruined Christmas for me, it did.
...
Georgie's alive.
If you have a problem, write to your dear old Grandma Dot for helpful hints and advice at mailto:the-fez@live.co.uk
Anyway, she's gonna solve your problems and shit now.
Dear Dot,
Does the one time still apply when it's twice?
From Bill in Finance.
Well, 'Bill in Finance'. It isn't exactly customary for people to willingly reveal their names to me in their little messages...but I like your style. You've got class luv, not to mention guts.
Anyhow, I'm not entirely sure what you mean by your problem, so I'll give you a few options.
 |
| As we speak, this little bitch could be living in your pubes. |
If you're talking about sexual encounters with your boss' wife, then no- it doesn't make much difference whether it was once or twice, if he finds out then you're stilled fucked. Therefore I encourage you to seduce her again and again and again- as many times as you can! This could bloom into a fully-fledged affair! Proper life experience, that is.
If you meant anything else, then I can't be fucking arsed to think up any more replies. Goodnight.
Dear Dot,
How can we get all these here foreigners stealing English jobs out of OUR country? It's bloody annoying.
What do you think this is, a Daily Mail column? You might not know this mate, but I'm not English. Sure, I was brought up in Yorkshire, but I wasn't born there. No, sir. I was born in Moscow. To Russian parents. You hear that? I'm RUSSIAN!
Back in the 1920's, I was known as Dorofeia Georgiyevna Raskov- how much more bloody 'foreign' could you get? Of course, after my parents fled the Communist uprising, that got changed to Dorothy to help me assimilate into British culture, and Peakins was my third...or fourth husband, God rest his soul.
So piss off, you racist bastard. My left arse cheek has probably done more for this country in the past fortnight than you've achieved in your whole life.
Dear Dot,
I wrote to you a while back about my enormous feet and how they were ruining my life.
 |
| Is this what it looks like? Lucky bastard. |
Oh yes, my problem.
Where should I put that new flat-screen TV that I just bought? Above the hearth or the snooker table? I had it on the floor, but kept spilling 50-year-old malt liquor and Playboy bunnies on it.
Shove it up your arse.
And learn a bit of modesty, kid.
Sorry, I'll calm down. That BNP bloke's got me all riled up.
Phew.
...
Shove it up your arse.
Dear Dot,
My mates are all pricks. What should I do?
Well, that depends on what kind of pricks they are. Are they popular pricks? If so, suck up to them and become a 'best mate' to all of them. Seriously- they'll take you to parties, raves, riots, maybe even (if they're posh) hunting trips, where you might be able to snag a deer. Or a farmer. Eventually, when they dump you in the gutter after someone even more subservient comes along, firebomb their houses.
If they're unpopular pricks, chances are that you'll love them for who they are inside or whatever, so there ain't much point me saying anything much, because you wouldn't be asking what to do with them.
You know that already.
Run like the wind.Dear Dot,
Shoot where it's going to be, rather than where it is.
Sorry for being rather terse today kids- the expletives-to-normal-words ratio in that blog there was shocking even for me. I've had some bad news though.
Ruined Christmas for me, it did.
...
Georgie's alive.
If you have a problem, write to your dear old Grandma Dot for helpful hints and advice at mailto:the-fez@live.co.uk
Label the subject "Dear Dot". Please note that the opinions expressed by the writer do not represent the views of 'The Fez'.
Monday, 20 December 2010
Tim (The Snake Who Loved Too Much) - N. Crompton
Tim is a snake.
Tim is walking in a park. He is very sad.
Kate is sad too. Kate sees him.
They fall in love! Aww! They hug!
But Tim's a snake so...
Death by asphyxiation.
Metal Gear Pikachu!
Metal Gear Pikachu by ~glow-in-the-dark-fez on deviantART
Here's for if you don't get what this is about...
Martha x
Saturday, 4 December 2010
Dear Dot. 3.
Eighty-four-year-old Dorothy Peakins has 47 great-grandchildren. She enjoys ham sandwiches with mustard, snooker and Pac Man.
Since she hasn't had a legit job in about 15 years, she has plenty of free time to sort out your daily dilemmas.
Dear Dot,
Last night I had a dream. I was being chased in a boat along a river in a rainforest, by a tribal guy riding a manatee.
Whenever I turned around, I could see him in the distance, catching up, and I had to keep paddling all the time to stay away.
Incidentally, on the way along the river I passed a dentist's surgery, a bookshop and a large Rocket Dog shoe with owls on it. Many small gnomes appeared to be living in the shoe, and the scent of frying bacon wafted forth from a hole in the toe.
What does all of this mean?
Well... I'm no fuckin' expert on this, but I'll have a go- just for you, mind?
According to my good friend Dr. Google, being chased in a dream means that you feel that the trivial problems in your life are building up on you, and are inescapable. You feel insecure, and are controlled by feelings that are largely out of your control.
No offence to the experts, but in your case, I think that this interpretation is bullshit.
Listen up to your dear old Grandma Dot. I reckon that the manatee represents the fact that you've forgotten something important, and the memory is trying to catch you up (because the closest living relative of the manatee is in fact... the elephant! True fact. Clever or what?), however the nature of the memory depends on the species of the manatee.
I don't reckon it'll be a dwarf manatee, if it's big enough for a bloke to ride on, but that would mean that the memory was about an ex with a small penis. It is likely to be an Amazonian Manatee- this represents electronic equipment. Don't ask why. If you're interested, the other two are the West Indian and West African manatees, which represent staples and bookmarks. Let's assume it was an Amazonian Manatee though.
Right, so the guy riding the manatee = you sold a friend/family member's mp3 player to raise enough money to get your face pierced (what you mistook for a tribal bloke was in fact the tattooist/piercing specialist).
The piercing got infected, and somehow the infection spread to your gums and made some teeth rotten, which were pulled out by the dentist. Whilst waiting for your mouth to stop hurting, you stopped by a book shop and hid in the corner, reading a Viz annual without the intention of buying it (the guilt of this act is following you as well).
Finally, the shoe with gnomes indicates that...erm...your feet are infested with parasites so you don't dare buy expensive shoes any more?
Whatever. Owls are nice aren't they?
Dear Dot,
It's a bit awkward to admit this but recently I've found myself becoming sexually aroused by trains.
I know how goddamn weird this is... but I can't help myself! I'm a good-looking young bloke with a steady girlfriend, but the only way that I'm able to have sex with her is by fantasising about steam engines! I ask her to breathe all over my face and imagine that the steam is covering me all over; I ask her to blow a whistle when she climaxes to try and simulate the sounds of a railroad; I bought a bag of coal and we- (chop! That's the first time something's been too explicit for this blog - Ed.) and I'm so worried that she'll leave me. Help?
You poor, poor man. I've heard about a lot of fetishes in my time... but trains? Dear Lord. Well. Oh God. I don't really know what to suggest. Is there any chance that you could displace this fetish with an even more powerful one? I don't know... rubber maybe? Motorbikes? Cars? God, even rowing boats would be better than trains! What do you see in them? They're always late...smell funny...usually dirty...once they arrive, they go quickly and drop you off straight after...
I don't know. If you don't want to give up trains, maybe you should try a train station. See if there are any female trainspotters who share your...erm...hobby?
Dear Dot,
Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now Grandma Dot- my life seems to be going Nowhere Fast and if I don't get some proper mates soon then I Know It's Over.
Stop Me If You've Heard This One Before, but I'm beginning to Panic. This Charming Man (me) is a Handsome Devil, but What Difference Does It Make? No one likes me anyway...Last Night I Dreamt Somebody Loves Me, but alas I know this not to be true. I asked a girl on the street for the time yesterday, and she spat at me after saying "I Don't Owe You Anything", and calling me an 'Unlovable dick'. I Started Something I Couldn't Finish last month, and I need help!
Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want Grandma Dot!
Get the fuck off my blog David Cameron- Johnny Marr didn't want you and neither do I!*
Dear Dot,
My wife is cheating on me, and I really can't do with confrontations. Should I just ignore it, or kill her?
You young'uns are all the same. No flair. Now, when I was your age, a man wouldn't have to even ask that question.
When I cheated on my first husband, he caught us in the act on the living room floor.
Stony-faced, he walked into the kitchen, slamming the door behind him...
..."Run George!" screamed Dorothy, gathering the fallen clothes from the floor. "He's going to fetch the carving knife for sure! He'll have your testicles for the dog!"
Shaking violently, George scrambled on his jumper backwards, with no shirt beneath it, then put one leg in his trousers before leaping through the glass window and hurtling down the street.
Tears streaming down her face, Dorothy rose from the rug, shaking shattered glass from her hair.
"Jerry, love? Jerry, please don't hurt me, darling! Jerry?"
Tentatively pushing open the door, Dorothy peered into the dimly-lit kitchen. There sat Jeremy at the table, shaking- with anger? Disgust?
"Jerry.."
Dorothy trailed off as she put her hand on his shoulder, and realised that he was sobbing and attempting to eat a large chocolate cookie.
He turned his tear-stained face towards hers... and then copiously vomited on her ruffled pinafore, before lapsing back into heartbroken wails and unsuccessful cookie eating.
Half an hour passed like this, before Jeremy gained back some semblance of dignity and asked his wife for a glass of warm milk.
Right. So what did we learn from that? You decide.
If you have a problem, write to your dear old Grandma Dot for helpful hints and advice at mailto:the-fez@live.co.uk
*If you don't get this reference, then make a greater effort in the future to be aware of musicians' Twitter feeds. Also develop an interet in The Smiths. That is all.
Since she hasn't had a legit job in about 15 years, she has plenty of free time to sort out your daily dilemmas.
Dear Dot,
Last night I had a dream. I was being chased in a boat along a river in a rainforest, by a tribal guy riding a manatee.
Whenever I turned around, I could see him in the distance, catching up, and I had to keep paddling all the time to stay away.
Incidentally, on the way along the river I passed a dentist's surgery, a bookshop and a large Rocket Dog shoe with owls on it. Many small gnomes appeared to be living in the shoe, and the scent of frying bacon wafted forth from a hole in the toe.
What does all of this mean?
Well... I'm no fuckin' expert on this, but I'll have a go- just for you, mind?
According to my good friend Dr. Google, being chased in a dream means that you feel that the trivial problems in your life are building up on you, and are inescapable. You feel insecure, and are controlled by feelings that are largely out of your control.
No offence to the experts, but in your case, I think that this interpretation is bullshit.
Listen up to your dear old Grandma Dot. I reckon that the manatee represents the fact that you've forgotten something important, and the memory is trying to catch you up (because the closest living relative of the manatee is in fact... the elephant! True fact. Clever or what?), however the nature of the memory depends on the species of the manatee.
 |
| Ooh, I've got these in blue. Very nice. |
Right, so the guy riding the manatee = you sold a friend/family member's mp3 player to raise enough money to get your face pierced (what you mistook for a tribal bloke was in fact the tattooist/piercing specialist).
The piercing got infected, and somehow the infection spread to your gums and made some teeth rotten, which were pulled out by the dentist. Whilst waiting for your mouth to stop hurting, you stopped by a book shop and hid in the corner, reading a Viz annual without the intention of buying it (the guilt of this act is following you as well).
Finally, the shoe with gnomes indicates that...erm...your feet are infested with parasites so you don't dare buy expensive shoes any more?
Whatever. Owls are nice aren't they?
Dear Dot,
It's a bit awkward to admit this but recently I've found myself becoming sexually aroused by trains.
I know how goddamn weird this is... but I can't help myself! I'm a good-looking young bloke with a steady girlfriend, but the only way that I'm able to have sex with her is by fantasising about steam engines! I ask her to breathe all over my face and imagine that the steam is covering me all over; I ask her to blow a whistle when she climaxes to try and simulate the sounds of a railroad; I bought a bag of coal and we- (chop! That's the first time something's been too explicit for this blog - Ed.) and I'm so worried that she'll leave me. Help?
 |
| Not fucking sexy. |
I don't know. If you don't want to give up trains, maybe you should try a train station. See if there are any female trainspotters who share your...erm...hobby?
Dear Dot,
Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now Grandma Dot- my life seems to be going Nowhere Fast and if I don't get some proper mates soon then I Know It's Over.
Stop Me If You've Heard This One Before, but I'm beginning to Panic. This Charming Man (me) is a Handsome Devil, but What Difference Does It Make? No one likes me anyway...Last Night I Dreamt Somebody Loves Me, but alas I know this not to be true. I asked a girl on the street for the time yesterday, and she spat at me after saying "I Don't Owe You Anything", and calling me an 'Unlovable dick'. I Started Something I Couldn't Finish last month, and I need help!
Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want Grandma Dot!
Get the fuck off my blog David Cameron- Johnny Marr didn't want you and neither do I!*
"David Cameron, stop saying that you like The Smiths, no you don't. I forbid you to like it.
Dear Dot,
My wife is cheating on me, and I really can't do with confrontations. Should I just ignore it, or kill her?
You young'uns are all the same. No flair. Now, when I was your age, a man wouldn't have to even ask that question.
When I cheated on my first husband, he caught us in the act on the living room floor.
Stony-faced, he walked into the kitchen, slamming the door behind him...
..."Run George!" screamed Dorothy, gathering the fallen clothes from the floor. "He's going to fetch the carving knife for sure! He'll have your testicles for the dog!"
Shaking violently, George scrambled on his jumper backwards, with no shirt beneath it, then put one leg in his trousers before leaping through the glass window and hurtling down the street.
Tears streaming down her face, Dorothy rose from the rug, shaking shattered glass from her hair.
"Jerry, love? Jerry, please don't hurt me, darling! Jerry?"
Tentatively pushing open the door, Dorothy peered into the dimly-lit kitchen. There sat Jeremy at the table, shaking- with anger? Disgust?
"Jerry.."
Dorothy trailed off as she put her hand on his shoulder, and realised that he was sobbing and attempting to eat a large chocolate cookie.
He turned his tear-stained face towards hers... and then copiously vomited on her ruffled pinafore, before lapsing back into heartbroken wails and unsuccessful cookie eating.
Half an hour passed like this, before Jeremy gained back some semblance of dignity and asked his wife for a glass of warm milk.
Right. So what did we learn from that? You decide.
If you have a problem, write to your dear old Grandma Dot for helpful hints and advice at mailto:the-fez@live.co.uk
Label the subject "Dear Dot". Please note that the opinions expressed by the writer do not represent the views of 'The Fez'.
*If you don't get this reference, then make a greater effort in the future to be aware of musicians' Twitter feeds. Also develop an interet in The Smiths. That is all.
Friday, 26 November 2010
How Sexalicious Are You?
It's the very question upon which our self-esteem balances precariously- the answer to which has thrown many an adolescent into the dark abyss of shattered confidence and immolated ego...
How Sexalicious Are You?
 |
| ? |
Sexalicious
[seks-ah-lish-uhs]
adjective:
1. deliciously sexy
2. can be used to compare level of sexiness to deliciousness of a food
e.g. 'Yum, Matt Bellamy's like, lobster thermidor & french salad sexalicious!'
'Eurgh, you fancy Peter Kay*? Sexalicious? More like chip shop curry mate.'
Q1: Which shop do you visit most often?
a: Ann Summers
b: Primark
c: Forbidden Planet
Q2: Which of these food products appeals to you most?
a: Caviar
b: Salmon Fishcakes
c: Fish Fingers Q3: Who would you be most likely to compare yourself to (appearance-wise)?
a: David Tennant / Megan Fox
b: Someone off a soap opera / sitcom
c: Homer Simpson / One of the Fat Slags (Viz)
Q4: Mattress size?
a: King
b: Double
c: Twin / Single
Q5: Reading material?
a: Intimate Adventures of a London Call Girl - Belle de Jour
b: 'Salem's Lot - Stephen King
c: Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
Q6: You spend most time with your....?
a: Girlfriend / Boyfriend
b: Family
c: Xbox 360 / PS3
Q7: Ideal career?
a: Rock Star / Film Star
b: Artist / Nurse / Fireman / something else fairly normal
c: Professional Trainspotter
Q8:You are most proficient at...?
a: Pole Dancing
b: Basketball
c: Guitar Hero
Q9: Which combination of bands would make the best festival stage line-up?
a: The Strokes, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, The Libertines, The White Stripes, Queens Of The Stone Age
b: Foo Fighters, Metallica, Lostprophets, My Chemical Romance and... Lady Gaga?
 |
| Go Beefheart! |
c: Captain Beefheart and His Magic Band, Neutral Milk Hotel, Bjorn Again, Slade, an Albert Mangelsdorff Tribute Band
Q10: Final question... best type of underwear?
a: Crotchless Pants and Nipple Clamps
b: Bra and Knickers / Y Fronts
c: Supermarket carrier bag
Now count up how many of each letter you got.
Mostly as:
Devil's Food Cake with Vanilla Ice Cream
Well... you're a bit strange if you picked a few of those options... but congrats. You are officially sexalicious. Bet you're proud of yourself. Now bugger off to that high-class stripping job of yours.
Good one if you picked the festival bands answer though.
Mostly bs:
Strawberries and Blackberries in Greek Yoghurt
You seem pretty normal. That's good. We have something to work with. To achieve the dizzy heights of sexaliciousness, you must commit yourself to a strict regime of posh food (e.g. raw oysters, foie gras etc), erotic literature and bondage wear. Or not. Anyone who considers themselves truly 'sexalicious' is probably a freak or a dickhead.
Mostly cs:
Brussel Sprouts in Custard
Oh dear.
You are either incredibly nerdy, or mental.
Both are actually good things to be.
They're just not sexalicious.
Btw, trainspotting isn't good. Otherwise cool.
*This is a joke. Don't get all offended if you happen to be a Peter Kay fan (or Peter Kay). I quite like Peter Kay. Max and Paddy was good. Pheonix Nights was better. He seems to be going a bit downhill at the moment though. That talent show thing was a bit rubbish. So yeah. Peter Kay.
Wednesday, 24 November 2010
Mini Comic- 'Toby The Dinosaur's Fast-Food Adventure'
Toby the Dinosaur gets a biiiig surprise when he walks into McDonalds... only to find one of his old college mates! Laugh, weep and vomit as they catch up on old times in... 'Toby the Dinosaur's Fast-Food Adventure'!
To make this look and read like a comic, print it onto A4 paper (right click the image, select 'open link' and copy that image for the best quality). Fold it in half lengthways (with the pretty pictures on the outside), then fold it in half (widthways?) with the 'front cover' (that's the big panel) inside. After that, fold the two sides out, so that the front cover shows... on the front. The back cover isn't so obvious, but you fold it the same way as the front, so once that's figured out you should get it.
Enjoy,
Martha x
To make this look and read like a comic, print it onto A4 paper (right click the image, select 'open link' and copy that image for the best quality). Fold it in half lengthways (with the pretty pictures on the outside), then fold it in half (widthways?) with the 'front cover' (that's the big panel) inside. After that, fold the two sides out, so that the front cover shows... on the front. The back cover isn't so obvious, but you fold it the same way as the front, so once that's figured out you should get it.
Enjoy,
Martha x
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