put my remains in my snuff box

So if I should die of small pox...

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This is a blog full of pretty, sparkly, magical pictures of people I like to look at. It's a British comedy blog, essentially.

I love love love love making gifs.

My name is Steph, I'm a 20 year old American graphic design student, and a 'casual' anglophile. I love typography and comedy. Talk to me if you want, I like talking to strangers.

David Mitchell is my hero, Stephen Fry is my god, Charlie Brooker is my soulmate, and Alan Davies is my best friend. And Dylan Moran is really sexy.

Cheers! x

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oneshapeshiftingtango:

Poem 1052. EXPENSES.

There was a big do arranged for all the MPs to discuss how wretched they were and eat humble pie at the expenses fiasco.
The press were invited and everyone had a drink, and mingled, and apologised as much as possible.
Hoon side-stepped a hack and waddled over to Ed Balls.
“Is this wine free?” – he asked.
“Dunno”.
“Mm”.
Straw poked his beak in.
“Might not be. ‘Cos we’ve been naughty”.
“I don’t think it is free” – Widdicome squawked, sipping from her hip-flask.
“Bollocks” – Hoon winced.
He replaced his wine on a tray and they “moved through”.
The waiters served up braised venison and potatoes and fishes in sherry.
But, increasingly, the MP’s declined for fear of having to pay.
Some gritted their teeth or gnawed at their lips from hunger.
Widdicome unwrapped her sarnies.
The Millibands winked at her and ate their little yoghurts they’d stowed in their little briefcases.
After a couple of speeches admitting they were all wankers, the MP’s spilled out into the road.
Some confused, abortive hailing of black cabs ensued.
There was no guarantee these’d be freebies.
Hoon turned to Balls.
“Do you know anything about nightbuses?”
Balls tapped his bicycle helmet and pointed to his trouser clips.
Hoon nodded.
And he huffed.
And he set off on foot to his nearest home.

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The idea of staggering around on a beach looking for my own arm fills me with dread, quite honestly. Also, I am one of those people who overthinks things, so, even though I’d know, deep down, that I was being daft, I’d be worrying that a lot of the soldiers I was peppering with bullets might be really great guys. Of couse, there’s no way of checking this, as, by the time you’re close enough to chat to them, or to see if there is common ground in terms of tastes in music et cetera, the evil buggers have peeled off a dozen pellets into your eyes. Tim Key on ‘war’ from The Incomplete Tim Key (via teeaah) ♗

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two requests

Does anyone know where I might find (to watch/listen or download) We Need Answers, and Alan Davies on I’ve Never Seen Star Wars? If you do I will be eternally grateful.

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Bats are amazing. They’re different from all other birds in that they have a thin layer of skin covering their feathers. They can still fly fine but, because of this skin, and also the fact that they can hang upside down, they are technically mammals. Bats can’t sing like other birds but instead have borrowed from their cousins the dolphins, communicating as they do through a system of clicking and squawking. Because they are mammals they are prevented, biologically, from laying eggs- they instead lay other small bats. These then grow from chick to adult, their skin envelops their plumage and the cycle is complete. Humans don’t eat bats because they would quickly lose friends. The Incomplete Tim Key ♗

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