Half A Giraffe

The comedy stylings of the pleasantly deranged

Monthly Archives: July 2010

Board To Death

Thursday, 29 July 2010 by Rory Cashin

It would appear that Hollywood is beginning to run out of ideas. Having already turned pretty much every book, poem, play, musical, video game, tv show, foreign movie and “old” movie (“1980′s? Nobody remembers that far back! Re-do!”), they’ve now run aground on the shores of ABSOLUTLEY RANDOM ASS SHIT ISLAND. Some of the ideas aren’t 100% terrible, like Ridley Scott directing Monopoly, or Peter Berg directing Battleship (but re-doing it so its about aliens attacking the ships, which makes it sound more like Asteroids, which is also being turned into a movie).

But then there are some just some sickening examples. Like the Magic 8 Ball movie. Who in their right mind thought that was a good idea? I really hope that in the first two minutes it breaks the fourth wall and the lead character asks the audience “Do you think the rest of this movie will be good?”, and then a shake-a shake-a shake-a, and…

At least that has some semblance of being able to move forward a plot, and its almost like an automatic script generator to begin with.

“Should I ask that out-of-my-league chick out on a date, Magic 8 Ball?”

“It is decidedly so.”

“Do you think this movie will be a good springboard to a better acting career for me, Magic 8 Ball?”

“Don’t count on it.”

“Should I not have blown that producer to get this role?”

“Concentrate and ask again.”

“Last night I felt really suicidal and swallowed loads of pills but I just threw them back up.”

“Try again later.”

But what about the View-Master movie? Dreamworks are looking to buy the rights from Fisher-Price so they can get the guys who wrote Transformers (of all things) to write a script about a thing you look at pictures of rivers and mountains and stuff through. If they do manage to somehow create some kind of forward-moving story based around that, then no matter how god awful it is, they deserve the millions they get. That’s not to mention the other odd sources of inspiration for future movies, like the way someone noticed that there is a very talented director and writer making a movie about Facebook, so why not do the same for the Facebook game Mafia Wars?

*facepalm*

Aaaaaaaanyways, far be it for us to just flog a dead horse when there’s a bandwagon to be jumped on, so we here at Half A Giraffe have come up with a few ideas for future adaptations based on the most random shit we could think of.

Title: Guess Who?

Staring: Samuel L Jackson, Kevin Spacey.

Plot: Jackson is a cop trying to decipher a labyrnthine puzzle of who exactly Spacey is in a quasi-sequel to The Usual Suspects. One by one Jackson’s questions get him closer to the true identity of Spacey’s character.

Title: Where’s Wally?

Staring: Christopher Mintz-Plasse, Steve Martin and/or Eddie Murphy and/or Adam Sandler.

Plot: A day at the beach ends in tragedy when Martin’s/Murphy’s/Sandlers’ son Wally (Mintz-Plasse, aka McLovin’) goes missing. But thats not really important. What will be great about this is that it will be 178 minutes long, shot entirely on James Cameron’s 3D cameras, and will cost more than the GNP of a Central African country. Can you imagine it, just being immersed in this for almost three hours?!

Tag Line: Lose Yourself!

Title: Indiana Jones and Snakes & Ladders

Staring: Shia LaBeouf, Harrison Ford.

Plot: Having completely taken over the mantle of Best Archeologist Ever TM, Mutt Jones and his one-foot-in-the-grave dad head off on one last adventure where they find themselves in a parallel universe, in which people abritarily fall down snakes and climb up ladders until eventually they climb up the best ladder and they win the game some treasure or enlightment or something. And maybe somewhere along the way Mutt will learn a few more things about his old man, and maybe his dad will teach him that a leather jacket is not the best thing to wear in South American climates.

"Its gettin' hot in herre...."

Amazing. We did have more ideas, but we started to feel like our souls were getting dirty and we’d have to get into a big articulated lorry and run over groups of grannies pushing their grandchildren in strollers just to feel like we were beginning our ascent out of soul-crushing hell. Until next time, just remember that inspiration is everywhere… Oh look, a bubblegum wrapper, I wonder if there’s a movie in that?… Oh, someone’s beat me to it…

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Posted in Staff Writer |

Indiana Jones 5

Monday, 26 July 2010 by Ciaran McNamee
    “Well, we could always use the machine to make Half A Giraffe famous. Seriously just set it for the future, we’ll head there and some kinda opportunity will present itself. “

    We had attached the time machine to the Half A Giraffe van, and were now discussing the objective of our mission. We waved goodbye to Gary Glitter, who was just dropping the van back, and climbed inside.

    “Seriously, this’ll be like the making of our reputation, how many other credible online blogs have access to a time machine” Ben boasted! A couple of beers and a few miles down the road, I pushed the button – the button that would hopefully forever change our fortunes.

    We arrived about 15 years in the future, we think.

    It was hard to see through the childrens handprints, but the world outside the windows looked pretty similar. We were cheering and singing our theme song, spirits were high.

    Just park over there. It looks like it’s near a cinema or something. “oh wow are we in the future, fuckin love the future, everything about the futures my favourite thing about the future” said Rory, who’s muzzle had become undone.

    I didn’t really care. I was so drunk, I was just happy to be somewhere on a Saturday.

    “Ciaran! Ciaran!” ….yes Rory….”THIS IS A LOT LIKE THAT TIME I WON A MARMALADE MEASURING TAPE IN A BATMAN RAFFLE….” Ugh….”Geeeeeemmmaa”

    “Gemma – you see anything interesting!???”

    “Yeah, look at this, the cinema is showing Indiana Jones 5”

    Hah, whaddya know. I mean, we often review movies, we could review one from the future!

    “Eh need I remind everyone that the 4rth movie was shite, and that this is one will probably be way worse”

    Yeah thanks Ben. I freaken love the first 3 movies, chances are ¾ it’ll totally rock!

    “yeah fucks sake Ben” shouted Gemma. “We rock! We rock! Lets just go buy tickets”…

    “WOW” I thought. Indiana Jones 5 –“Indiana Jones and the plot full of non-sequitors cause George Lucas co-wrote it” This is going to be totally awesome. I felt as giddy as Brian Cowen dancing naked in a chocolate shop as I skipped into the theatre. The movie was starting, a sense of awe washed over us, nobody could compete with us now. Not after reviewing Indiana Jones 5. We shamelessly cheered as the credits rolled up. Directed by Steven Spielberg , Starring Harrison Ford……co-written by George Lucas……something nagged me about that, but I figured he couldn’t do much damage as a co-writer.

    ….

    We stepped into the cold bright exterior. I felt confused and disoriented. God my head was throbbing. I looked around at the others, they were silent. We began walking towards the van as a group of philosophers might. The sun was dead ahead in my eyes. I couldn’t really think. Nobody was talking. Everybody rubbing their chins or hands clasped lightly behind their backs.

    Eventually Gemma broke the silence

    Gemma: I have a question. How come Harrison can now whirl his whip really fast so he flies like a helicopter?

    My eyes are still struggling in the brightness and I feel as if I’ve been hit by a train

    Ben: I’m not sure. I’ve been trying to you know, think about that one. I mean it was interesting wasn’t it. It was risqué you know.

    Gemma: Also do you remember at the beginning, was the spaceship just a giant toilet made of bread firing dinosaurs at the townsfolk, or did it just look like that

    Ben wanted to be silent and his false smile did little to create a sense of serenity

    Ben :Again I dont really know, it did look like the inside was bread but again I think it’s the type of film you’d have to see several times…..Ciaran, what do you think?

    Me: Oh yeah definitely. Some of the locations were really interesting though, like great special effects. It’s a bit brave like, especially with the way Indiana is renamed Scrubby…

    Ben: Oh yeah absolutely, it just wasn’t what I expected you know

    We walk along for a few seconds, in the general direction of the van.

    Gemma: Actually it was a bit crap. The more I think of it, it’s as if George Lucas made up the whole thing as he went along. I mean, it’s completely crazy!

    Ben: No, it’s just different you know. Also the music was really good. John Williams did a great job. It ranged from enchanting, like when Scrubby is captured and forced to eat a computer, to dark, like when Scrubby is forced to arm wrestle himself, to strange, like when Scrubby is forced to make 10031 liters using only jugs of 711 liters and 3380 liters.

    We climbed into the van and travelled back in time. Banter was occasional on the way back, we never tackled the film head on, waiting instead for our collective thought to be compiled, in the Half a Giraffe towers underground review lair.

    Half a Giraffe Towers Underground Review Lair.


    Ben: Ok it’s about time we spoke openly about the film

    There is a solemn sense of duty about everyone, a quiet acknowledgement that at some point we would have to discuss what we had seen.

    Ben: Now we all know it was a bit….difficult to understand. Now before we all go blaming George Lucas for

    Me: GOD FUCKING DAMMIT LUCAS, WHAT THE HELL!

    Gemma: Actually I love it, Lucas is a genius!

    Ben: Well I’m just going to show you what I wrote as the basis for the review. Look we can’t slate it too much, this is our big opportunity right!

    Our Journey begins with acclaimed screen icon Harrison Ford just after beating the legendary, or at least locally-well known, Peruvian golden albatross in a boxing Match. In a moment of true hilarity, what appears to be a magical bag of mince meat thanks him by making an airplane drop in 2 younger women with whom he has hot passionate sex

    Ciaran: Stop right there

    Ben: No, just comment at the end

    “Sound a bit like Harrisons trying to be young again!? We thought so! Also now he isn’t even Harrison- he’s CGI! After this opening fight, Indiana (updated for the 21st century with the buzzin’ nickname “Scrubby”) flies high into the sky, to a sort of intergalactic bread based, toilet like ship…where he rescues a princess a saves the day! Make no mistake, this is an action packed movie full of novel ideas and original plot twists.”

    Ciaran: Novel! At the end of the day it’s an incredibly weird way of telling a story that just boils down to rescuing a Princess. It manages to be completely weird and unoriginal at the same time!

    Ben: OK ok, just wait until you’ve heard the rest:

    “Scrubby is also joined by his father inexplicably renamed Rudolf McCain, and they don their pogo sticks and, disguised as beekeepers, bound off into the South American jungle in search of the fountain of youth. A black and white shot of a man speaking German follows very quickly and it’s a bit unclear what happens next, he starts crying and pulls off a mask or something as we see the protagonists kissing each other in astronaut suits. Scrubby returns to his pogo stick and it’s his turn and he rolls a 7 and can upgrade it to a motorbike, and they get on and drive straight into the ground in a search for the fountain of youth. The plot as I’ve said, is a bit muddy in our opinion.”

    Ciaran: ….yeah

    Ben: Lets all keep as positive as we can. Anybody else have any thoughts to contribute?

    Gemma: Yeah , this movie is really good!

    Ben: Ok, ok well we wont put that in. but I, ….somebody…not Rory…somebody…

    Rory: I AM NOT WEARING PANTS AS TODAY MY OLDEST SON RETURNS FROM THE DESERT HAVING EATEN NOTHING BUT DOG MEAT FOR 20 DAYS. OH WHAT AN UNFORTUNATE TIMING, THAT TODAY OF ALL DAY -

    Ben: Get the muzzle, quickly the muzzle…..alright THIS is getting ridiculous

    Ciaran: What about the subplot concerning the death of Santa Claus?

    Ben: Alright WTF, AUGH! Dammit DAMIIT! Alight, fuck this I’m outta here.

    Ciaran: Dammit. You’re right. Well that was a complete waste of time.

Posted in Staff Writer |

Cupid’sArrow.com – LoveBug

Thursday, 22 July 2010 by Ben Keenan

I’m back from the doctor and was given an all-clear. No tetanus, and probably no HIV. I was all like “WTF do you mean probably?” and he was all like “GTFO“. Here I am at home and I’ve decided to get this last one over and done with. I know I probably couldn’t have decent sex with my thighs all raw, but frankly, I just want to power through, meet the next psycho and go cry in the shower for a few weeks. Is that too much to ask?!

The List

  1. Lolita1992
  2. BitterOblivion
  3. LoveBug

3 – LoveBug

Profiling

LoveBug - Cute, no!?

I am blown away – I hadn’t looked at her profile, mostly out of fear, but get this; she lists what seems like every film I’ve ever loved, every song I’ve ever sung and every TV show and computer game I’ve ever enjoyed. She has read everything I’ve read, and some books I want to read. She’s funny as hell and seems totally at peace with herself. I think I’m in love :-)

First Contact

We talk for about three hours. There are Lebowski and Airplaine! quote-offs:

LoveBug: Ever seen a grown man naked?

Ben: Yeah but that’s just, like, your opinion, man!

LoveBug: Just stay away from my fuckin’ special lady friend!

Ben: A message from the hospital? What is it?! It’s a big building full of sick people, but that’s not important right now.

An informed conversation about Battlestar Galactica:

LoveBug: Yeah, but how would Head Six have been able to speak to Head Baltar?

Ben: What about the finale? They’re clearly able to communicate.

LoveBug: FUCK yeah that was sooo cool. I’m a total Hendrix and Dylan fan.

She tells me that she wants to travel the world and has made some inroads already. She’s an artist and writer, she links me to some of her stuff, it’s fantastic. She makes me snort water out of my nose at one point she’s so funny, and she digs me! I make an arrangement to meet her in town for a walkabout and chat. I’m giddy with excitement!

Preparation

I tape up my legs, jump in the shower. I phone work to tell them I won’t be coming in but they hang up on me. It occurs to me that this little project of mine has kept me away from the office for about six weeks so far this year. Not great, I can’t blame them losing hope of my return. Fuck ‘em, I think to myself, I’m too excited to care! I change my dressings – no sign of infection, everything smells clean. I wear the best casual clothes I have and skip out the door.

Close Encounter Time

I’m standing on Dame St. outside Trinity, waiting for her to arrive. She puts her hands over my eyes and does the “Guess Who!?” thing. I put my hand on her wrist out of habit (I recently started martial arts), she puts me in an impossibly effective wrist lock in a fraction of a second and then lets go and we laugh about it. This chick is COOL.

The Post Mortem

We went for a walk around the city centre for what must have been the entire day, but felt like a fleeting moment. We hit the Tea Gardens down on the quays, cloud-spotted in St. Stephen’s Green, got ice-cream and walked the boardwalk, dodging junkies and drunks. We had lunch in my favourite sushi place (turns out she loves it too), before going for drinks in a few pubs and then caught Inception (again – the second time for both of us) in the cinema. We had to wait around before it was in one of the bigger screens, we both insisted, so we ate sweets and drank beer in the cinema bar. Turns out she’s an ace masseuse. After the film, I walked her home, it started to rain, so we sheltered under trees and made out – it was awesome. After that, we went back to hers and, well, I don’t like to kiss and tell when it really means something , but this should sell the general idea.

Anyway, it suffices to say that I’m glad it ended on a nice note, and now I can move on past this ridiculous crap and get on with my life with this wonderful woman :-)

UPDATE: It’s been three days and she hasn’t returned my calls. Very strange :(

UPDATE: I called around to her house and there was nobody there, she’s moved! I feel sick :-( :-(

UPDATE: A week later and I still feel very sick. I go to the doctor. He does some tests. I will surely die of a broken heart!

UPDATE: THE FUCKING BITCH GAVE ME CHLAMYDIA! No wonder she scarpered. At least now I get why she chose her nickname. I am NOT PLEASED.

UPDATE: Had a meeting with my doc. Joke’s on her! I am HIV Positive! Ha!

I think, all in all, it’s fair to say that I got a lot out of this whole experiment, maybe more than I bargained for. Next time I may just go for something like this: Project 366. This Yes Man bullshit is fucking stupid. OK, I’m gonna go cry in the shower now, you can all leave me alone. Go on, piss off.

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Posted in Staff Writer |

Cupid’sArrow.com – BitterOblivion

Monday, 19 July 2010 by Ben Keenan

Right. It’s about half one in the afternoon. I’m just home. I’ll write up this Post Mortem before I pass out. If you’re not up to speed, you can check out my previous post in this series: CupidsArrow.com - Lolita1992.

Here’s where we are on The List:

The List

  1. Lolita1992
  2. BitterOblivion
  3. LoveBug

2 – BitterOblivion

Profiling

Her profile’s mostly just lyrics from songs I don’t know and, by the sounds of it, I don’t want to know. I send her a friendly message. I give it a day, and no reply. Maybe she’s offline, maybe she’s ignoring me. I copy and paste some of the lyrics off her page into another message and try again. She contacts me immediately.

First Contact

BitterOblivion: You love SkullFuckersInk too? That’s amazing.

Ben: Yeah! I love how strong their lyrics are.

BitterOblivion: Oh totally. Have you seen them live?

Ben: Can’t say I have.

BitterOblivion: They just screamed and screamed. It’s so real.

Ben: Oh absolutely. That’s brilliant.

BitterOblivion: Lookin’ at your pics, you don’t seem the type. How many tattoos do you have?

Ben: 0

BitterOblivion: ?

Ben: Zero.

BitterOblivion: Oh, how come?

Ben: I just never got around to it.

BitterOblivion: That’s weird. I have 24.

Ben: Sweet :-)

BitterOblivion: It’s the only way I can cum these days.

Ah, I thought to myself, bingo. We’re talking about sex now.

Ben: Oooh, cool. That’s kinky!

BitterOblivion: I guess.

I decide to test her sense of humour.

Ben: Oh, hey! I just found this lol:

BitterOblivion :I see. Do you want to meet up?

Ben: Sure!

BitterOblivion: How about my place? My address is *******************************

Ben: Oh, wow, eh…yeah, ok, no worries. When suits?

BitterOblivion: Tonight. Bring a change of clothes.

BitterOblivion is offlline

Preparation

I hastily pack an overnight bag with a full change of clothes, jump in the shower, remove the merkin I’d donned as part of my YMD (Yes Man Days – see previous post), brush my teeth and make myself smell good. I don’t know what awaits me, but this is part of my Yes Man code, and I’ve made a commitment to myself. Just in case, I set a timed text to go to my phone, so that I can make an excuse and leave if I have to. Then I send another timed text to go to a friend of mine to call the cops if he can’t get through to me on the phone and I give him her address. I’ve kinda got a bad feeling about this.

Close Encounter Time

I stand outside her house. There’s ear-bleedingly loud death metal rattling the window panes and I think I can see a strobe light hitting the curtain. Deep breath. I ring the doorbell. She opens the door. I recoil from the sound of the “music”. As I teeter back on the step, she reaches out, grabs me by the lapels, and steadies me. She steps back to let me in – she’s actually pretty hot in person, and she’s smiling. Maybe there’s nothing to be afraid of! I walk in and she closes the door behind me.

The Post Mortem

Eighteen hours later, and I am finally fucking home. I can’t take a shower, it’ll hurt too bad, I just pick up the phone and call my local doctor immediately. I make an appointment for this evening, pour myself a vodka on the rocks and gingerly take a seat. Where to begin?

She let me in, turned down the music and made me a cup of tea. We chatted about this and that before I passed out. She had of course drugged the tea. Rookie mistake. “But Ben”, I hear you ask “Why would she drug the tea when you clearly came over there to have sex with her anyway?”. Good question, and one that occurred to me as I became more conscious. I was spreadeagled on the bed. I don’t know what she’d restrained me with, but since my head was strapped down too, I figured probably something like psychiatric hospital-type restraints. This wasn’t some kinky silk rope, I couldn’t move a muscle. Now, let me as a quick aside say that I am not agin gettin’ interestin’ in the bedroom. I’m all for it. I just think it’s good manners to inform all involved parties before you SLIP THEM FUCKING RUFILIN AND TIE THEM DOWN AGAINST THEIR WILL WITH RESTRAINTS. I was understandably nervous.

I lay there for about…oh, maybe five hours? There was a clock in my periphery. I heard a couple of creaks, called out, heard nothing back. I had a feeling she was just sitting in the room watching me. Just as I was thinking “This passed kinky and hit PSYCHO about four and a half hours ago”, she silently entered my field of view. I tried talking to her, but she just looked at me. I asked her what was going on, if there was a safety word, what her real name was, when would it be over, why she drugged me – lots of things like that, but she just looked at me. Then she slowly receded from view. Not good, I reckoned. I heard this strange whirring noise, like a cross between a sprinkler and a scalectrix set, and she bounded onto my stomach, straddling me. I tried to lift my head and look down, and the most I could make out was the back of her head. She was facing away from me. Then I realised for the first time that I was naked. Then my left thigh blossomed into incredible pain.

I tried to scream but I had a gag in my mouth. I turn my head slightly to see the clock – I’ve lost another two hours. Bitch drugged me again, she must have injected it into the sole of my foot. I struggled for a while, but then just gave up. The next few hours are hazy, I think from a combination of deyhydration, low blood sugar, moderate blood loss, residual rufilin and fatigue.

I finally snapped out of it when she was undoing the restraints. I managed to sit up, blacked out, and tried again, more slowly. My blood-soaked thighs were covered in admittedly excellent tattoos of skulls, motorbikes, bats and tears. I swung my legs down and tried to stand, I could just about manage it. She lay down on the bed. “OK, my turn” she said. I fumbled with the straps and strapped her down. I gagged her as her mouth tried to form the words “I love you”, and then got the fuck out of there. I’ll probably call the cops later and let them know she’s there, but in the meantime, I should really get my legs looked at before they scab up completely.

Next up: LoveBug

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Posted in Staff Writer |

Rudebox

Thursday, 15 July 2010 by Gemma Creagh
    I would like to apologise to the members of my fan club who have signed a petition against this. I respect you lads coz you’ve stayed wiff me coz of my musical integrity. I especially am fankfull for my fanmail from Brett, Canada. Fanks mate. It makes my day that ‘Rudebox’ changed your life. It’s funny, lots of celebrities in LA, told me that. A while back I met Roger, from ‘Sister Sister’ at The SexPod, a club just off the Boulevard, and he told me how my song ‘Lovelight’ was as good as anyfing the Beatles did. And I will keep that wiff me. It, along wiff your support, will keep me strong, during this difficult time.

    Why would I do it, you ask? Well my team of fferapists did say, that I needed to grow up and literally face the music. But that’s not it. And it’s not all about the money evah… Alvough I do wanna to keep the missus, my Turkish delight, in the fine cloves and surgery she is accustomed to as well as send all my chiselers to a posh school. Possibly in Space. Actually I did everyfink I could to avoid this day, but now I ‘ave to return – I ‘ave to swallow my pride and rejoin Take That.

    I can laff now when I fink of those newspaper headlines which said I was the badboy. If only they knew that in reality it was me, the youngest of the five, who was the group’s punching bag.

    Cruel was too light a word for what them boys were like. I’d call them monstrous. At one stage, Gary was worried he was puttin’ on too much of a spare tyre, and made me eat everfink he did, plus five extra doughnuts a day so I’d always be heavier. He’d ofthen beat me if he saw me looking at a treadmill and wouldn’t let me take part in the groups after-dinner bulimia sessions.

    Mark was even worse, and if I got more nude pictures in my fanmail than he did, he’d force me to take my lad out ‘for a walk’, he’s filum me, and then post it to my mum. I could nevah escape it, they were everywhere… any time I woke up in a hotel room or in my cell, Jason would be there watching me sleep. He’s a frightening man that Jason, eyes like a soulless butcher. And Howard? Genetically he was only one-third human.

    This is a true story right, but until we were rich an’ famous enough to have our own scantily-clad female (male for Jason) servants, the gang made me fetch them beers (cakes for Gary) on all fours. If I spilled or dropped anyfink, I ‘ad to remove some item of cloving. I spent the first 3 tours naked walkin’ around like a dog. It was Mark who came up wiff the painful game called ‘guess what’s up Robbie’s rectum’. It was aways somefink sharp.

    Branded...

    Branded...

    Luckily for me Oasis, managed to muscle my group members into letting me go in 1995. All Liam and company wanted was some drugs and prison love – which was much less twisted and perverse than what I had been doing up until then.

    And I so I was free (except for the PTSB and debilitating addictions) and I’ve ‘ad 15 years of being my own man. It felt good, mate, it felt good.

    But wiff their recent rise to power they grew ‘ungry. And my torture began again last year when Gary paid a hitman to brand my arm wiff the Take That logo. They left me a note saying I was theirs forevah. Now they’ve kidnapped my half-sistah Lilley Allen and they won’t let her gountil they have me back in their hairy clutches. I ‘ad no choice… I’ve ‘ad to rejoin Take That.

    But don’t worry, I’m stronger now, I ‘ave kicked my narcotic and Lucozade addiction, and will put up with anyfink they can throw at me (or in me). I’ll just close my eyes and think of my Queen. God bless you Elton.

    Robbie

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Posted in Featured, Featured Writer, Staff Writer |

On The Set of "Oh, She’s Eleven"

Monday, 12 July 2010 by Rory Cashin

After months and months of phone calls, emails, faxes and stalking impromptu meetings, we finally managed to secure an interview with Half A Giraffe’s all time greatest hero, and perhaps biggest influence, Razor Chandelier. For those of you who don’t know who Razor Chandelier is (and if you don’t, what rock have you been under?!), this is the man who began his career in front of the camera as a bit player in such classics as A Tale Of Two Titties and Schindler’s Fist, but it wasn’t long before he was headlining major titles such as In-Da-Penis Day and Jurassic Poke.

Always seen as something of a “pretty boy”, it wasn’t until he won Best Actor in the Pokey Awards for his portrayal of a disillusioned American visiting Tokyo in Lost In Menstration that people really started to sit up and take notice. Ever since then, he has been on something of a roll, mixing up award winning, critical darlings like A Cock-And-Lips Now with more laid back fare like National Pleasure.

What makes it even more exciting is that Razor allowed us to conduct the interview while on the set of his directorial debut. So we hopped on the first flight to Las Vegas, and just a few hours later found ourselves on a massive staging area dressed up to look like the innards of a massive casino. Everywhere we looked there were croupiers dealing cards at the Strip Snap table, rows of women playing the One Armed Bandit coin slot machines, but with naked men in the place of the actual machines, and a naked woman sprawled out in the centre of a massive roulette while… where she will land, nobody knows…

In the middle of all this madness is Razor, conducting the scene like a maesto, his wand waving this way and that. We catch his attention in a break between scenes (he is also the main star of the movie), and we try to get in a few questions…

Half A Giraffe: (start of tape) Hi, Razor. How are you doing today?

Razor Chandelier: Uhm… Hi. Hey… aren’t you that guy I seen going through my trash cans last week?

HaG: (laughs) Anyways Razor, we were wondering if you could talk to us a little bit about your first time taking the reigns, as it were.

RC: Sure… its called Oh, She’s Eleven. Its a bit of a risque project.

HaG: Could you tell us a bit about the… plot?

RC: I’m trying to keep it tightly underwraps at the moment, but its basically about this total slamming hottie, who’s like an eleven out of ten on the hottie scales, who is also a world class thief. And her ex boyfriend, me, is this casino owner. And I’ve just banged her sister and best friend in a threeway, so she’s out for revenge.

HaG: Oh. You don’t think that calling the film Oh, She’s Eleven could lead to some… confusion?

RC: Confusion? What kind of confusion?

HaG: (short pause) Never mind. So… that plot. Its quite… Shakespearian.

RC: Thats what I said! But audiences, they come for the action, but they stay for the story, ye know? I don’t like talking down to my audiences.

Guy: Razor! We need you back on set!

RC: Sorry guy, can we finish this in a bit?

Razor walks off back to the scene he’s in the middle of shooting. We try to keep up with him, but slip in a puddle on the way. As the realisation slowly dawns that, at best, this is a puddle of sweat or lube, we decide to take a shower. Whilst in there we get talking to a number of fluffers, who are currently in talks with their union to be re-named P.A.’s When asked how do they assistant the producers, we are told that the P in their P.A doesn’t stand for Producer. Then they giggled and left. The rest of the bathroom was basically a conveyor belt of cleaniness, with people coming in to wash different body parts at different levels of vigour, only to go back out to set and continue their daily grind.

A few minutes later, refreshed and clean (externally at least), we rejoin the set, and Razor calls us over to continue the interview. It is slightly odd as he is mid-action sequence, as it were. But he informs us that its an extreme close up of a particular arena of interest, and there is no sound recording, so we can talk freely.

HaG: Earlier you mentioned that you were attracted to this project because it was a risk. That seems to be something of a throughline for your career.

RC: Well, so many people told me that I’d made a huge mistake when I signed on to the remake of In Diana Jones, but it went on to make so much money. But then I got a bit cocky, and my quality radar took a bit of a dive.

HaG: Yes, there is the famous Daughterworld…

RC: Yeah, that was a mistake. But, ye know, I’m quite proud of my work in that film, and I’m sure in time, people will look back on that and regard it differently. And it wasn’t all bad, I learned so much on that film set. Its still all a learning experience, ye know?

HaG: And you’ve worked with some very talented people within the industry.

RC: I’ve had the privilege of working with the creme of the crop. I’ve developed a really good working relationship with Diddly Squat after we worked on Glad He Ate Her and Black Cock Down together. Before Black Cock Down, I thought I was untouchable, I was cock of the walk, ye know? But then I seen some of the other guys I was working with on that set… It really brought me back down to earth.

HaG: You’ve also famously turned down working with some very famous directors?

RC: Yeah, Girth Brooks offered me so much money, a ridiculous amount of money to star in The Meat-Tricks, but it was shooting at the same time as something else I’d already commited to (The Da Vinci Load). And then when I seen how well The Meat-Tricks did, I told him I’d star in whatever his next movie was gonna be.

HaG: Wasn’t his next movie Men In Black Men?

RC: Yes.

HaG: Were you in that?

RC: (pause) No.

HaG: Oh… How come?

RC: (long pause) Script issues.

Razor and his co-stars Keira’s Daily & Nightly switch positions so that they now resemble a slighly unfinished human origami figure, and Razor nods at us to continue.

HaG: Okay. You’ve also been at the forefront of some of the new frontiers in the industry.

RC: Yes, thats true. We’ve just finished shooting Ava-Hard, which’ll be in 3D, and I’ve done some voice acting work in an upcoming animated project (Bangbi), and I was also the producer on two documentary projects that should be doing the festival rounds soon. I’m very proud of them, actually. Bowling For Concubines and An Inconvinent Tooth, keep an eye out for them on the festival circuits!

HaG: Will do, Razor, will do. Just one last question.

RC: Sure, what is it?

HaG: Can we get your John Hancock?

RC: No problem. Have you got something for me to write it on?

HaG: (unzipping sounds, end of tape)

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Posted in Staff Writer |

The Book

Saturday, 10 July 2010 by Half A Giraffe

Click to enlarge (including on iPad)

Story by Half A Giraffe

Illustration by Paudie Baggott

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Posted in Featured, Staff Writer, Webcomic |

Office Stuff

Saturday, 10 July 2010 by deebs

My tale of woe began with signing up to a recruitment agency. I didn’t particularly need the money, I just rather enjoyed the prospective glamour that lay ahead. You know how FBI agents get to waltz in and say “I’m with the Bureau” – flash a badge. I got to stroll in with “I’m with the Agency” – flash a smile. Not quite as exciting as I’d hoped, but I persevered, and they came through with the offer of short-term employment.

So, one day, as I was stuffing envelopes (trust me, it’s not nearly as sexy as one could imply with well placed innuendo and a solitary raised eyebrow), I wondered what would ultimately be my primary form of passing the time; A succession of paper-cuts? Or the fact that I’d been left in a small room with sellotape, stickers, scissors, a child’s inquisitive temperament and natural propensity for mischief and no adult supervision? One of these was likely to prove my undoing, and I was looking forward to finding out which!

Hours passed, envelopes were stuffed, sealed and labelled. Quite surprisingly the paper-cuts remained a rare and minor inconvenience. I was beginning to think I may get through the day unscathed. I was curiously numbed by this. However, as it turned out, the mystery of what would bring about my downfall was soon to be resolved, and it was to be a dark horse competitor that won out.

The complete structural failure of my box fort was, in hindsight, not so shocking. Its trapping me underneath, however, was not entirely expected. Perhaps a more physically gifted soul may have escaped, yet for me this was, I feared, to be my tomb. As time passed, I reluctantly resigned myself to my fate. I befriended a rogue envelope, whom I named “Wilson”, and in time grew to love my prison. I attempted to integrate myself into the native society, hoping to woo a pretty piece of paper I had caught sight of across the room. Nervous glances and one-sided small talk were the order of the day. Alas, it was not to be. I could sense her interest, that was not for debate, yet she was the child of the paper king, and fated to be with another. I graciously held my tongue and accepted that I would forever be an outsider in my new land. Wilson eased my pain with his rapier wit and calming demeanour. He had grown to be a valued companion and I believe his presence allowed for my survival as long as this.

Yet now, some 79 minutes later, I must leave you. Whoever you are that has found this journal, I thank you. Sadly I know that most of my writings perished in the great draft breeze of 28 minutes ago. Wilson only survived as I held him close to my breast. It brought some curious new feelings to the surface for us both I believe, and caused a few awkward moments in our relationship, but we’re past that now. I fear my time is running short, as the ink in my pen appears to be running dry. I trust you shall see to it that my remains are dealt with appropriately. Treat Wilson kindly. He has been a loyal confidante to me and I’m sure my passing will have been hard for him to bear. If I can leave you, and indeed the world (should they serialise my tale in extracts in The Guardian as stipulated by my last will and testament, contained within Wilson), with one thing, it is the knowledge th-

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It’s On Me

Friday, 9 July 2010 by Half A Giraffe

Our new sketch is here! Every man knows this pain :-(

Credits: http://halfagiraffe.tv/index.php/credits/its-on-me-credits/

Posted in Sketch |

Arts and Science at College

Thursday, 8 July 2010 by Ciaran McNamee

The various depts in Trinity College have begun their yearly drive to herd prospective students into their courses. And so the college is covered in recruitment posters, from the Arts Block down to the Hamilton Science and Mathematics block. Here are some of this years ads:

Trinity College Art Block

Are you tired of the Hamilton, with its scary equations, labs, and job prospects?

Why not come on down to the Arts block?

Our prospectus includes a wide array of subjects from “love with Spanish” to “tea parties through circus” and even “BESS”

A typical day in the arts block begins with a hug at the door from one of our friendly members of staff wearing a non-threatening bear costume. You then work on your class projects which include making a pop-up book and choreographed meadow frolicking. Exams are held in June with scores ranging from 55% to 65%

Our lecturers eat talcum powder each morning so that their voices are soft and soothing and all students wear the standard uniform of a bathrobe and slippers. We don’t believe in electricity, evolution or gravity, relying instead on intuition, love and magic.  Medical concerns are seen to by the College Shaman.

By the end of second year all students will be able to bake, use a spirograph and will have read about the internets. You then specialize in a range of practical subjects including medieval literature, early Irish art, Greek pottery or Jedi Studies.

The hours can be tough however, last years picnic seminars required a double period for example, and some days you’ll be required to do two lectures in a row without naptime in between. Take a look at last years senior freshman calendar for example:

Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday
12am Lecture 207

“beanbag studies”
feelings hour ———- ——————– —————- —————– ————-
2 pm Tea Party Lecture 208

“ice-cream tasting”

 Picnic Seminar
3pm Lecture 205

“cinema”

 Lecture 205

“cinema”
4pm Puppy fashion show

The cost of the course is the standard government tuition. You will need additional money for crayons, pink or glittery paper, and orange makeup.

—————————————————————————————–

The Hamilton:

Do you like the timetable equivalent of a 19th century prospectors workload in a brutal colonial lead mine? Do you like large numbers of Russian lecturers, steel bars in windows and the sound of crying? Then come on down to the Hamilton!

At the Hamilton we don’t have carpets, bathrooms, heating or “fun”. But what we do have is a massive integrated heavily networked industrial strength CPU grid for crunching through important problems about electrons.

Working under UV lights increases your productivity 16%, but only decreases your life expectancy 10% and we employ them throughout the cavernous interiors of our lecturing pens. Board is provided to students without means, though as part of this agreement you will be required to dig coal for the furnace or donate blood to the Hamiltons effort to Clone Stalin.

At the Hamilton we realise life isn’t all about study. We also provide lots of exercise through our proximity to the gym and the most difficult to open door on the planet. To be competitive at an international level, students take all exams using their own blood and write on bricks instead of paper.

We also strive to give all students a well rounded education, for example those taking “4-dimensional relativistic manifolds” must also take “the history of abstract computational methods” giving students the ability to discuss a wide variety of topics at parties.

Previous complaints about the Hamilton include our “nightmarish” timetables, incidents of rickets amongst freshers and in general a high student death rate. These concerns have been addressed and we include a revised copy of a typical timetable:

Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday Saturday
6 am Prayer Prayer Prayer Prayer Prayer Prayer
8am Solitary Confinement Pulling

Mine carts

 Altitude training maths pilgrimage
Interrogation

Methods

 Graveyard

maintenance
12pm Last rites Experimenting on animals Interrogation

methods
3pm Maths Combat

Pit
4pm “evil Physics”

wks 5-10

Nuclear

11-26

chmcl weaps.

 Richard Dawkins

Seminar

 Maths Communal showers
5pm Maths
6pm Funeral practice Ritual Vampirism
7pm
8pm
9pm maths

Our desks are made of the finest East European steel and our library only contains books of more than 6000 pages… So why not come on down one of our spiral staircases to discuss your future at the Hamilton? The careers office is located just above the library in the prisons wing. See you there.

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