7 Unforgettable Moments From The World Cup 2010.

#7 Rolling of the Jabulani

The Jabulani (not to be confused with Jhangiani, Dadlani, Lalwani, Tarachandani, Thadani, Pandiani, Nani, Advani and other Sindhi surnames), was unveiled and met with widespread criticism from all goalkeepers.

Iker Casillas: Mi Dios! It’s got a mind of its own and it keeps on changing! It’s like a woman on the field!

Julio Cesar: Meu Deus! It keeps on rising like inflation! I can’t afford catching it!

David James: My God! It keeps on rising like John Terry’s …ambitions! Someone hide my wife!

Manuel Neuer: Mein Gott! Ze Jews made this ball! Somebody gas it!

Shaun Wright-Phillips: Thanks Adidas! I can now hold your balls responsible for my lack of talent! Notice the wordplay!

#6 It’s time for Africa

Thousands who thronged to watch the extravaganza from all around the world were a little shocked when they were introduced to the self-proclaimed cultural icon (since 2002) called the Vuvuzela. You might be deceived into thinking that it is an exotic tribal instrument, but is in fact a plastic pipe that violently molests your eardrums in under 5 seconds. So it’s no surprise that this little single-note-rhythm-deficient piece of plastic was regarded even more irritating than its human counterpart Diego Maradona.

FIFA was under tremendous pressure to call for a ban after receiving numerous complaints from fans, TV commentators and players alike about the alarmingly high decibel levels, the problems in communicating on the field and the traditional singing replaced with this migraine inducing drone.

FIFA president Sepp Blatter personally investigated the issue and after careful deliberation, issued this extremely diplomatic statement:


#5 Shame on you France (Part I)

You’ve got to hand it to Henry… it was the best hand-job ever. He single-handedly led France to a shameful victory into the World Cup, only to lead them to a shameful defeat out of it. Well done, Thierry Hand-ry.


#4 Shame on you France (Part II)

Anelka mistook the French team for Chelsea and tried to have his way with the coach. And his wife.

Fortunately, the return tickets were booked well in advance.

#3 The Italian Slob

Remember how they won the World Cup last time? This time, they came back to return it.

#2 England’s Bravehearts

The favourites at the start of any competition. The butt of all jokes by the end of it.

Disappointing performances from senior players like Lampard, Gerrard and Hesky (born 1978, 1980 and 5th century B.C. respectively) and young guns like Lennon (born 2008) meant that English newspapers could devote a page each for lampooning their failure, as described in the pictures below.

#1 Lionel what? Diego who?

Self-declared Gods of football viz. Lionel Messi and his father Diego Maradona tasted a full scoop of reality dipped in delicious humiliation sauce. All it took was a sharp German pin to pierce 4 gaping holes in the Argentine hot air balloon and bring it back down to Mother Earth.

Maradona later sold his condescension at a discount price.


After A Break – 2.

This is a spillover from the previous post, which also celebrates the wonder years of advertising. The only difference is that this post is especially reserved for the telecom companies whose sole purpose of existence is to gently stuff one of their lifetime postpaid plans down their customer’s throat. Service with a smile.

The invaluable heritage of bloodsucking advertising started with Vodafone (then Hutch (previously Orange)). If you recall, they pioneered telecom business in India by means of their heralded ad campaign, which basically had a hideously ugly dog going around and sniffing everyone’s arse until they finally gave up and purchased one of their lifetime postpaid plans out of frustration. Inclusion of the catchy “You and I” song was enough to attract the kewl crowd*, and the Happy To Yelp dog was an instant hit with bitches who find those repulsive things cute. The doggedness paid off, huh?

They later revived their ad campaign with some popular characters called ZooZoos. I thought these were just products of computer animation, but after reading this article, I was struck dumb.

The article says:

the film-maker had to use adult actors—all slim-built women—as opposed to children, who would have been better suited to play the part of the Zoozoos.

Oh my. Just look at that sexist statement: All slim-built women, who would have been better suited to play the part of the Zoozoos. I thought the “part of ZooZoos” is, in essence, just mumbling unintelligibly and stumbling about like developmentally delayed children. So answer me this: are the ad creators equating women with these cretinous characters by saying they are best suited to play only such roles? What a sorry excuse for a career!

In any case, the Vodafone guys win my respect. Think about it: they succeeded in capturing the whole market with just a dog and slim women in white suits. The last time someone pulled off such a remarkable feat was when… Arsenal the won the League back in ’03-’04.


Then it was the golden age of Airtel with their eternal plea to ‘Express Yourself’. Who can ever forget their wonderful series of commercials starring the Award Winning actors R Madhavan and Vidya Balan?

1. Watch this. I chuckled when I noticed the Airtel “STD” in the title, and how it sounds almost prophetic when Vidya says, “Din mein 10 baar… 50 baar” in the ad.

2. And this one. It’s like someone swallowed a cheap romantic novel, suffered from violent indigestion, and vomited this ad for 41 excruciating seconds.

3. One more. I feel sorry for Madhavan. Even after turning off the lights and checking the house for open windows like a loyal domestic servant, he still gets cards thrown in his face. Poor sod.

Statistics show that a lot of people were left incapable of ever expressing themselves clearly after witnessing this artificially induced diabetes.


Next to arrive on the scene were the ironically named Idea, who launched upon the world the most intelligent ideas you’ll ever expect from people who choose Abhishek Bacchan as their brand ambassador. Whether it was the incredulous ‘mobile schooling’ and ‘mobile democracy’ to the recent ‘Walk when you talk’, one can only wonder where they get all their ideas from. My respect to Sirjee, whoever he is, for starting this legendary series. What a fucking genius, Sirjee.

The tragic end of Idea: 2 days ago, an Idea customer (their only customer) was killed when he was crossing a busy highway while still talking on the phone. Reports say that the person at the other end asked him to wait and the dumbass took it literally. Idea have since announced that they will be generously offering the deceased person's family lifetime postpaid plans at 2.5% discount.


Small fry like Aircel also came in to grope in the dark, but were left empty handed. When they couldn’t get a single customer to buy their service, they spent most of their free time in “saving” the remaining 1411 tigers instead. However, the tigers were less than thrilled over being saved by unknown fakeass mobile networks.

The tigers’ official spokesman has this to say:

Children, gather around! No retreat, no surrender; that is the Royal Bengal lore. And by Royal Bengal lore we will stand and fight… and die. A new age has begun. An age of freedom, and all will know, that 1411 Royal Bengals gave their last breath to defend it! HA-OOH! HA-OOH! HA-OOH!

And with that, the tigers started attacking and maiming Aircel’s staff.

The Indian government attempted to organize a campaign to save the remaining 11 to 14 Aircel employees, but pulled out when nobody gave a fuck. Oh the irony of life.


And finally, the torch has been passed over to the good people at Tata. How thoughtful of them to ask the Spastic Society of India to create a jingle for their Tata Docomo ad campaign. The resultant product of the spastic creativity was the extremely addictive tune, “Doo doo doo, doo doo doo, doo doo doo, doo doo doodoodoodoodoo”. In fact, the “doodoodoodoo” part keeps on going till a little blood comes out of your ears and for a moment you consider turning to religion to find solace from the pain.

The Docomo Friendship Express. I read somewhere that the train driver was so disturbed by the singing that he jumped out of the moving train. The passengers continued singing unaware, until the train went off tracks and crashed into a Docomo signal tower, killing everyone on board and disrupting Docomo’s network for over a week.

Tata, Docomofos.

Further reading

1. For all the tortured souls who have long endured the annoying barrage of SMSes such as “VL death pack: recharge for only 50,000” or “VL dwnlds: dwnld sxy bkini models 4 Rs 15. Thn beg 4 4giveness by dwnlding Bible for Rs 20”, I urge you to do this (if you haven’t already): SMS ‘START DND’ to 1909 to shut them up for at least a while. More details here.

2. For everyone else who want to have some fun, this is something you can do:

(I got a call when Manchester United were playing against Portsmouth)

Vodafone Customer Care: Hello sir, I’m calling to inform…
Me: That United are leading 4-0. Yes I know; I’m watching the match too.
VCC: No uhh…
Me: Oh alright. 2 own goals, but Berbatov’s goal was great. Should silence the critics till the next match at least.
VCC: Sir you can top up with Rs…
Me: You’re a Portsmouth fan, aren’t you?
VCC: No.. what? You can top up with..
Me: It’s ok. Even Leeds got relegated and it turned out great for them. If you guys play well, you’ll be back in Premier League in no time.
VCC: (silence)
VCC: Sir you can now top up with Rs. 555…

(Another call from Vodafone Kerala: this guy kept on speaking in Malayalam)

VCC: Njaan Vodafone Cuzdhomer Gare aano blah blah… postpaid ille? Ramble ramble.
Me: We’re no strangers to love. You know the rules, and so do I.
VCC: (Some more rambling in Malayalam.)
Me: A full commitment’s what I’m thinking of. You wouldn’t get this from any other guy…
VCC: Malayalam ariyo?
VCC: Eeeh?

VCC: Hi, I’m from Vodafone Care and-
Me: I don’t care.
VCC: Heehee, actually I wanted to verify-
Me: I could care less.
VCC: But this is to-
Me: Not a care in this world.
VCC: Uff, sir will you please listen?
Me: …as much as I care about Careless Whisper. (hangs up)

VCC: Hello Sir? My name is Priya. Sir, would you be interested…
Me: Oh Priya, I thought you’d never ask! Yes, I’m interested. Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!
VCC: (nervous laughter) Umm, no… sir…
Me: For once in my life, Priya, I’m not mistaken. I fell for you the instant I saw you dancing at Mansukhani’s farmhouse party.
VCC: (few moments of silence) No I’m calling from Vodafone, sir. I’m calling to tell you about our new…
Me: Oh? Sorry, not interested. (hangs up)

VCC: Hello, my name is XYZ. Are you a post paid customer?
Me: No, I am Batman and you have reached the Batcave. Kindly state the nature of emergency?
VCC: Umm… sorry?
Me: You should be sorry for what you did to Gotham city.
VCC: Sir… what? I don’t get…
VCC: (confusion, silence)
Me: Why so serious, son? Let’s put a smile on… (hangs up)

VCC: Good evening sir. I’m calling from Vodafone.
Me: Good evening sir. You have reached Airtel’s customer support hotline. My name is Sachin. How may I help you?
VCC: (confused) Uhh…what?
Me: If you guess my name right, you win 1000 Zimbabwean dollars. No taxes.
VCC: Uhh.. hello.. what?
Me: Wrong. It’s Voldemort. You lose and are hereby assigned 2000 hours of community service in Zimbabwe.
VCC: (hangs up)

I understand that they are trying to make a living by selling their shit, and I’m not against that. However, when they stop respecting people’s privacy and call at unearthly hours to explain their lifetime postpaid plans, they can certainly expect entertaining replies. I’m usually polite on the phone, but calls early in the morning and late at night? How can we let this go on?

Refuse! Resist!

*Kewl crowd: People who love to take pictures of themselves holding a guitar in various positions, at various angles. When asked to play a song, they will choose to play “You and I” because the lyrics are not too complicated, they just have to strum on random strings, and poof! Instant guitar Gods!

After A Break.

I am putting together a list of some brilliant ads that nearly missed out on bagging a Cannes Lion this year. Nevertheless, they were good enough to earn critical acclaim from the judges and the audience alike.

Liril 2000

A soap claiming it can “refresh 2000 parts of your body” makes the top of this list. I’m very surprised because I didn’t even know we have 2000 parts in our body that could be washed with a soap. Amazing, isn’t it?

Unless you are talking about Optimus Prime, the rest of the Autobots and the Decepticons, I don’t think too many regular people have 2000 body parts to clean up. I am Optimus Prime, and I send this message to any surviving Autobots taking refuge among the stars: We use Liril 2000, and we smell awesome.

Seriously people, even 206 bones + 650 muscles + 32 teeth + 6 vital organs + 1 (optional) soul don’t add up to 2000.

I find it extremely puzzling when people try to be elite in selling a product as trivial as soap. Do you really believe that the average Indian ‘tard who watches Saas-Bahu serials on Colours and Imagine would even get the schmancy psychedelic “concept soap”? It would make more sense to drop all the unnecessary gimmick and pretentious bullshit and just show a hot semi-naked model rubbing your soap all over her – you know, stuff that regular, normal people can relate to. Trust me, it is easier to sell more soaps this way than trying to convince people that a soap can refresh parts they don’t even have.

You remember how Priety Zinta bathed with your soap under a waterfall once? Yeah, those were the days. Simple, delightful visuals; an easy-to-understand message. Where has all the clarity gone nowadays?

In the real world, it doesn’t matter what you want to sell. As long as a barely clad hot girl is holding it in her hand/ rubbing it on herself/ sleeping on it, people WILL buy your shit. But no, you want ignore the time-tested formula and use your brain instead.

The new ad self-righteously states that 2000 is “a creative expression to denote large number of body parts.” In response, I can think of just 1 creative expression about the ad makers: they had 1999 of their body parts shoved up just 1 body part when they conceptualized this ad.


The story in this exceedingly well-made commercial is really touching, and it reminds us of how we used to be.

Saif is separated from his childhood crush Sarah Jane, who moved away when they were kids. Many years pass, and they are all grown up now, but Saif still can’t get over the memories of the little girl who he recognizes only by the ‘titli’ necklace he had gifted her back then. He looks for her on many different channels and uses many different cable connections, but alas! She is nowhere to be found.

Then one day, our lovelorn hero happens to catch this really pretty girl on TV. Something clicks. Something clocks. Thanks to Airtel’s Digital Clarity picture quality, Saif notices two things:

1. Sarah Jane maturity because she is still wearing a plastic titli necklace from childhood.

2. Sarah Jane’s maturity because her butterflies have blossomed from mere larvae to these full-fledged beauties that have taken flight from her chest.

And with Airtel’s MPEG DVB-S2 technology, one can now estimate cup sizes on TV. Notice the overjoyed look on Saif’s face as he fixes his stare on Sarah Jane’s cleavage and runs over to meet her.

Phir story mein twist. Just as he is about to profess his wish to bang the living titlis out of his childhood flame, Kareena sashays on to the scene. Life takes an unexpected turn as Kareena’s ‘tit’lis force Saif to change his mind again. Sarah Jane, the mature lady she is now, understands the situation, shakes her head and smiles poignantly at her luck while thinking: “Fucking C cups, bitch! Mine were bigger!”

Dil titli, dil titli

Surf Excel

For a change, here comes some archive material in terms of its uniqueness. I always wonder how it made past the censors despite all the objectionable content.

The ad starts with a young school boy looking for his missing teacher. A classmate informs him that she’s away because “unka doggie mar gaya”.

A teacher bunking work over a dead dog isn’t the only thing that is wrong here. Read on.

The boy goes to the teacher’s home and waits near the porch. A lonely old lady is shown sitting there, longingly staring at an empty leash.

This is when it gets frightfully creepy.

The boy puts the leash around his own neck, almost as if he’s been trained to do it on cue, and pretends to be her bitch. He elaborately impersonates all bitch-actions including rolling around in the mud, raising the hind leg and pretending to pee, and playing with the dead dog’s ball (ewww), which actually brings a smile to the old lady’s face. The closing scene shows them sitting real close, holding each other, with an impassive middle-aged woman’s voice telling us, “Agar daag lagne se kuch accha hota hai toh daag acche hain”.

Just what the fuck man! What in the dead Michael Jackson’s name is that even supposed to mean?

Full marks to the person who conceived and directed this psychotic ad. I’m guessing it was either Eli Roth or Quentin Tarantino. But even that shouldn’t stop an anti-abuse organization from investigating this issue, don’t you think?

Hero Honda

Ah, my personal favourite. This ad stars an exceptionally gifted guy who rides his bike to his girlfriend’s home every time she sends him a text message.

Guy riding bike to girlfriend’s home to reply to SMS. You can almost sense that there has been a misunderstanding somewhere.

I was not really sure about the misunderstanding, so I did some extensive research on this: I contacted the top 10 telecom companies, conducted a few surveys, talked to the Tech team at a renowned mobile phone manufacturer, tested the most popular cell phone models. After around 2 months of exhaustive investigation, I came to this definitive conclusion:

We have enough evidence to confirm that there is a “Reply” option in all cell phones through which you can reply to the sender instead of actually going to their home to reply. There you go. Misunderstanding fixed.

If the ad intended to make dumb girls go “awww, he’s so fucking sweeett naaa? Like he came all the way to my fucking home to like just say good night teeheehee!” it landed straight on its ass. It came across more like “awww, look at the poor unemployed twat! He has so much time to waste and he can’t even operate a bloody cell phone!”

Birla Sun Life Insurance

A dark, grim ad featuring Virender Sehwag and Yuvraj Singh. The weird camera angles, the dull hues, the heavy pseudo-philosophical dialogues and the “sort of ominous” direction make this look like that i-pill ad with Tanaz Currim and her husband.

Notice how Yuvraj and Sehwag say, “Jab balla chalna bandh ho jaye tab…” and then suddenly go quiet, look down and shake their heads.

Wait, has somebody confused life insurance with erectile dysfunction again?

Honorary mention

This is the ad that came so close to winning, but unfortunately lost out – just like its protagonist always does in real life.

It’s the Bournvita “l’il champs” ad with Sania Mirza dressed as a school girl. A school girl with pig tails. Yes.

I won’t say much about it except that a grown woman dressed as a school girl rings a very loud bell somehow.

Game. Set. Match Made In Hell.

In a move set to delight millions of Indians and Pakistanis, sports enthusiasts, and people who like to laugh at the myriad quirks of life, the legendary tennis sensation Sania Mirza announced her marriage with the insanely talented cricket prodigy Shoaib Malik. According to experts, this decision is touted to be an important step in strengthening the already robust Indo-Pak relations. The experts are right in their forecast since both Sania and Shoaib are leading representatives of sports in their respective countries, and this matrimony can easily overshadow history and other such unimportant shit. A similar sentiment was expressed by the benevolent NGO Shiv Sena, who bestowed their blessings and best wishes for the couple. In related news, 2000 Shiv Sainiks have vowed to dance at the wedding, provided the song Aaj mere yaar ki shaadi hai is played by the orchestra.

“The news of me marrying Sania is true. Inshallah, will get married in April”, Shoaib wrote on his Twitter account, which is followed by only one user: Sania Mirza. This is the first time that Shoaib has come into the limelight after previously having been hounded by the media for testing positive in several banned substances tests and testing negative in an IQ test. This is also the first time that Sania Mirza has come into the limelight after previously having been applauded by the media for putting up a brave fight against a visually-impaired-8-months-pregnant player, but still losing in straight sets in the second round of the Lijjat Papad Open in 2005.

So how did these two love birds hook up? According to sources who do not wish to be blamed, Sania had posted her matrimonial on matrimonyforfailures.com. As always, our unethical reporter/office clerk Ganpat “Haxxx0r” Phonde hacked into matrimonyforfailures.com’s database and stole information for our tabloid. Reproduced below is the full, fake transcript of the Mirza Marriage Hunt.

Sania posts her initial proposal:

Seeking: groom
Must be a successful sportsman, must be more successful than me, should be good looking, smart, rich, NRI preferred.

The system ran a search for all eligible candidates and came back with these names:

Tiger Woods
Roger Federer
Michael Phelps
Rafael Nadal
Amelie Mauresmo …err
Lionel Messi
Cristiano Ronaldo
Tiger Woods
Tiger Woods oh God someone marry me please I’m so sorry
Matthew Hayden
Mike Tyson
Brett Lee
Gary Kasparov.

Sania was obviously overwhelmed and edited the search criteria to bring the results a little more within range:

Seeking: groom
Must be a sportsman, must be slightly more successful than me, as good looking as me, as smart as me, as rich as me, NRI still preferred.

This time the list of names that sprung up were:

Roshan Mahanama
Henry Olonga
Mashrafe Murtaza
The current Bangladeshi Olympic squad
Eric Djemba-Djemba
Steven Gerrard
Venkatesh Prasad
Dhanraj Pillai
Frank Lampard
Tiger Woods I promise I’ll never do it again please marry me
Mikael Silvestre.

Sania was somewhat irritated by the results and had to revise her demands once again:

Seeking: groom
Must be a CRICKETER from the subcontinent, should not be fuck-all broke, NRI still preferred. And fuck you.

This time she got only four names.

Shoaib Akhtar
Khaled Mashud
Kumara Dharmasena
Shoaib Malik.

Sania was fucking furious at this list of names. She refreshed the page 10 times hoping the list would change. Alas, she only got this message on her browser:

Expectations out-of-bounds error: You are not Steffi Graf or Anna Kournikova or Martina Hingis or Victoria Posh Spice Beckham. Please come out of your fantasy and try again.

Sania shrugged in agreement, simmered down a bit and decided to Google the list to get some background:

Shoaib Akhtar: This was the first link that Google threw up.

Needless to say, Shoaib is never going to get married. Next please.

Khaled Mahmud: Search returned this highly controversial photo of him watching the stumps fly while questionably holding a bat against his balls:

Ah, my balls!

No perverted freaks for Sania. Next please.

Kumara Dharamasena : Google searched long and hard, but unfortunately,

Livin' next door to Kumara Dharamsena.

Left with no other option, Sania decided that Shoaib Malik is the “right guy” and got in touch with him. Malik was surprised when she told him that Google regarded him as her perfect match. But before he took any decision, he wanted to run a background check on Sania too.

Tennis porn

Shoaib was overjoyed with excitement and might have even cried a little. He accepted the proposal immediately and urged that they should get married ASAP.

So there you have it people. A happy couple about to tie the knot today. We sincerely hope it works out for them and they have a great life ahead. And before we sign off, here’s our humble marriage gift for them: a picture of Shoaib in “happier” times. Congrats on the wedding, Sania. Peace.

28 March, 2010.

It’s a Sunday morning, not remarkably distinguishable from the other days. Sunlight floods in through that annoying little gap between the curtains and glares at me. The jobless old bastard does that every single day. I flinch and wave my arm frantically to tug at the curtains, but in vain. They are out of reach, teasing, undulating, mischievously throwing alternating waves of sun and shade in my face.

I turn away and look at the ceiling. It’s a Sunday morning not remarkably distinguishable from the other days. I hear mom making breakfast in the kitchen, reciting a prayer to go along with it. I hear the occasional sound of the laid-back morning traffic outside. I hear little kids singing an obscure song about birds and mountains. An old lady’s creaky voice commands them to keep the racket down. She gets unanimous laughter in response. A couple of sparrows sitting at my window sill are nosily debating something apparently very important. I strain hard to understand what they are saying, but I can’t. I want to get up from my bed and politely request them to take their discussion elsewhere, but I can’t do that either. Some wily prankster has pinned both my shoulders under a tonne of bricks made of air. I struggle hard to get up, but the massive weight keeps me down. Irritated and helpless, I lie in bed and look at the ceiling again. A fine crack is running along its face from one corner to the other. Ah, that’s something interesting to pass time with until help arrives. I trace the path of the crack, where it starts near one of the beams and forks out like a nerve, slowly and meticulously making its way to the other. I retrace its path all over again to make sure I haven’t missed out anything. I look at the wall clock to see how much time it took me to complete this activity – it’s approximately 2 hours and a few minutes. A lot of productive time is being wasted unnecessarily. Someone needs to get these air bricks off me already. Bah, nobody’s listening. I am going back to sleep.

When I wake up again, it’s late in the afternoon. No one’s at home. The roads are nearly empty. All the kids who were playing in the morning have gone home. The sparrows probably reached an agreement and left for lunch together. There’s absolute silence now, save the constant murmur of the fan. Outside though, there is an uneasy lull whirling around. For those unaware, a lull is greyish in colour and mostly invisible. It builds on, growing stronger every few seconds. Hello! It is seeping out of the crack in the ceiling and beginning to fill the entire room, covering everything under a thin layer of black soot. Damn it, my mom is going to kill me if she sees this mess. Have to get up somehow and clean it. But this damned load of bricks! What do I do?

Think. Think hard. When in doubt, refer the manual. The manual has all the answers they say. It is a nuisance going through a billion pages that have no page numbers, but what else can you do? Time to pull out the dusty, monstrous volume of instructions mouldering in the attic. Third shelf, bottom corner. The gigantic hardbound collector’s edition. Yes, that one. I’m allergic to it, but I have no other choice.

Index – skip. Introductory pages – skip. Starting pages – skip. Blah blah blah, skip skip skip. Where’s that godforsaken page about the black soot problem? I should bookmark this stuff from now on for easy reference. Skip skip skip, aha! Here it is! I puff the dust off and read the instructions for handling the black-soot-on-furniture situation:

(pulls a chair and clears throat)

“1. In the event a thick, black soot-like material covers your furniture, use the highly absorbent PowerSponge 5000 with an industrial strength cleansing agent like MagicInstaErase Plus (suggested).
2. Scrub in one direction, then again, then again and again till the black soot is completely gone.
3. Wipe with a soft cloth dipped in warm water. That should do it. Don’t forget to dispose of the sponge later.
4. Note 1: Occasional maintenance is a common, recommended and at times, mandatory activity. Do not panic as every household faces the exact same issue at some point of time, and has to deal with it in the exact same way. Well, the sponge and the solvent used might be different, but the cleaning procedure does not alter.
5. Note 2: You might want to get that crack in the ceiling looked at, you know, just to be on the safer side.
6. Note 3: Nights could be a slightly tricky affair, as it becomes very difficult to tell the darkness and the soot apart. Be advised that soot is often known to take up grotesque forms and haunt you in your sleep. The only way to counter this is by making a lot of “knock knock” jokes and keeping the soot amused until morning. “Knock knock” “Who’s there?” “Men in black” “Men in black who?” “Men in black soots lol.”
7. Warning! DO NOT ignore this activity! It might take some effort, but is very important from a long-term perspective. Also, don’t let this experience leave you with a bad taste in your mouth. Soot happens.
8. Cheer up now, go read a comic and drink some lemonade. You have a long day ahead.
9. Oh, and about the bricks? The prankster is a noob at brick placement. You just need to shrug your shoulders thrice and they will topple over.
10. Kindly close the manual firmly and restore in original position once done.”

Well, blimey! It is that simple?! What the hell am I still doing in bed then? Shrug, shrug, shrug. A shiver, a rumble and the towers of brick tumble! Success! Oh I love you, you knowledgeable manual!

Relieved of the heavy load, I get up with a renewed zest and vigour. I have wasted enough time. Now it’s time to man the decks armed with my PowerSponge and my MagicInstaErase Plus.

Forget the stupid sun and get to work, son! The score is now six-to-none! Keep that head down and don’t stop till it’s done! Scrub, scrub, scrub! Scrub scrubity scrub, from dusk till dawn, gotta finish up before mom catches on!

On a Sunday morning not remarkably distinguishable from the other days.

Here’s My Token Social Cause.

Everyone seems to have a nice social cause to support these days. I am feeling left out because I have none, goddamnit.

It tickles me when I see how most people, in all their pious propriety and hypocritical humility, feel the need to support some or the other ridiculous “social cause” without ever realizing what it’s about. I prefer to call them the Holier-Than-Thou Foundation (HTTF). The kinds who still carry the vague, muddled concepts of morals they learnt when they were kids.

The Holier-Than-Thou Foundation consider it obligatory, no, their “moral duty” to do something which will ease their conscience and automatically render a shiny halo over their overblown heads. They will create Facebook groups, they will spam your inbox with mails, they will wear stupid T-shirts, they will parrot out the same done-to-death phrases they heard from some lame celebrity, they will basically do everything they can EXCEPT GETTING OFF THEIR ARSE AND ACTUALLY CONTRIBUTING TO THE REAL CAUSE.

They are everywhere. They ask me to update my status for an hour to support some cause. They ask me to wear a certain coloured wrist band for another cause. They ask me to forward mails to everyone in my list, and question my patriotism or even my character should I choose to delete it. They ask me to “stop printing this e-mail, unless it’s really necessary.” And of course, when everything else fails, they light candles and sit next to a historical monument, most likely with a banner that has a witty line such as “Youth against –social issue here–” written in gay pink font. All this with a smug smile of satisfaction on their faces.

Ask them to take a weekend off to spend at an old age home or an orphanage, and suddenly “they are busy”. Ask them to take out their wallets for one of the causes and “they’ll get back to you soon”. Ask them to step forward and raise their voice against an issue and “they remember there’s something on the stove again”. That’s convenient, isn’t it? Why to get your hands dirty when you can change the world while sitting in front of your computer?

If you don’t get it, let me make it simple: there’s no compulsion to do something good. Karma hasn’t been proven scientifically. St. Peter himself has said that he is getting super bored with his job as the chowkidar/watchman of Pearly Gates, since no one has gone there in ages. So you see, you don’t need to do good just for the sake for it – in all probability, you’re going to hell anyway.

So the next time one of these HTTF moralfags comes around whining “Letzz spread de awarenezzz guyzz”, here is my suggestion:

1. Smash their teeth in.
2. Take a print out of the following images.
3. Tape it to their forehead.

Go ahead – choose your own social cause, people, and tell me if you have more. Oh, and if you forward this to 34,434 people in the next 20 minutes, the only outcome would be Google blacklisting you as a spambot, and maybe a lawsuit for cybercrime. Your love life will keep sucking as it is.

UPDATE: Related reading.


Truth be told, I cannot get enough of the Inappropriate Soundtracks meme. The beauty of this meme lies in how you take a serious, dramatic scene, and turn it into something hideously absurd.

I jumped in on the bandwagon too, and applied the same idea to Bollywood movies. There are so many lame scenes that it’s hard to decide which one to spoof.

Watch this video: Link to Youtube.

The theme is mega epic action blockbuster superhero fail. If anyone asks, tell them I made it. Thanks.