I'm very interested in talking complete bollocks, but I don't think I'm going to make a living out of it. Like, I'm not going to give up the day job which is fitting the arseholes on hamsters in the Rodentwerke factory at Schweinhausen (Whitehaven). My mama told me, whoa yeah, she dun gone and told me, that if I didn't like it, I could just stick it where the sun don't shine. For most of my life I've been doing that to anything I didn't like, and that is why I'm so big. And why I can't sit down. But people they listen to me, and nobody has told me to shut up so they must like what I'm saying. Some people take a real shine to bollocks. Erm. Where was I?
Music
Anything by Napalm Death, or Borderline Boilers, or erm S C R
O T
U M, or the Arse Bandits. And anything that hasn't been played by Chris Moyles. Now there's someone that I'd like to stick where the sun don't shine, but the little sucker runs too fast for me to catch him.
Movies
Anything with me in it, heh heh. Maybes not. Let's not get over-exposed. Alright, anything showing at the Dacre Road cinema.
Television
What? I thought I heard somebody say "television". Oh right. I don't fucking GET television. Why sit in front of a little box every evening watching people getting into car crashes and slaying vampires and chucking rocks at French policemen when you could be out there doing all that yourself? Or chucking vampires at French policemen.
Books
"The importance of being Ernie", "Lady Windermere's Fanny", "Doreen Grey", stuff like that. Oscar Wilde was the greatest prose-poet the English language has ever seen, and he was like "I'm much wittier than fucking Wordsworth" which really killed me. If I wasn't French and he wasn't dead I would of invited him round so I could sample some of his epigranates at first hand, so to speak.
Heroes
Barbara Streisand. Anybody who can turn a conk like that into a status symbol deserves my vote. I got enough oversize organs to capsize a horse so I need all the role models I can get. Oh, and Dolly Parton.
This season Andre is modelling Unipart spares - he is wearing Renault Tawdri hubcaps with just a hint of high performance gear oil, and sports a fucking geet beetle bonnet where his leotard is riding up.
I am a bit of a hoofer me and I bring a unique whiff of French culture to the free-flowing movements of the Ballet Dilbert, which is where I spends most of my spare time, tossing ballerinas.
I'm back, after a bit of shock and awe delivered by my editor with the aid of a blast of Sellafield shrapnel. Apparently Andre was a bit too "in yer face" whatever the fuck heck that means, and Andre has had to tone it down a bit or else piss off to LiveJournal where they go to art college and listen to James Blunt and stuff like that. A fate worse than deaf.
Some people were asking me what "BFG" stands for. Well you got to guess. Its a cross between something by Roald Dhal and something out of Quake. The "B" is from both, the "F" comes from Quake, and the "G" comes from Dhal.
Andre's Adventures in MySpace: Vol 4 (Blogs 150 to 200 stuffed into Paris Hiltons vagina in the hope of getting maximum publicity)
Andre the BFG's email address is ermingiant AT yahoo.com, if you feel like saying hello and you're not on MySpace or Facebook or Bebo or *add latest crappy social networking site here*
Aye well, here's the links to the individual blogs then. Don't way I didn't warn you ...
Some people got "Kalvin Kline". But not me. "Abandon hope all ye who enter here" it says on the waistband of my shreddies, and I'm never going to forgive my mam for sewing that on. But apart from that I don't have any problems with life and I get on just fine with everyone. I blether on a bit sometimes, but its all true and if people don't like to hear the truth then there's no place in this world for people like Rupert Murdoch, who is bringing you this finely fucking tuned networking machine called MySpace.com - just catching us all at the right time to turn us into Fox consumer machines. I'm not fooled though. I've eaten all the foxes round here. Who cares anyway?
Who I'd like to meet: Someone who doesn't sound like they are sucking on a gobful of marbles...
And don't just go asking to be my friend. I don't add anyone who isn't bigger than me. Or cleverer. Which doesn't leave many others apart from other BFGs called André
If your loins are oozing, I would strongly recommend that you consult your GP. Until then, my cheese-grater is strictly out of bounds, along with many other things.
Sorry if I have a TWISTED sense of humor. This is an obnoxious attempt to get more blog subscribers. Basically just taking a break from writing my novel. Hope it interests you.
