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Never before has British fashion been quite so hateful as it is right now. Are these cunts being ironic when they dress in the worst the 80s had to offer?!? Are they self-aware in this decision or are they just cunts? And how are there all of a sudden so many of them? You see them in fucking droves outside Starbucks drinking their mocha-frape-cunting-ice drinks, smiling like morons and complimenting one another on the tallness of their hair.

My initial thought was that it was imperative to burn out every fucking Top Shop in the land and force-feed these cunts the ashes so that they might see the light and the error of their ways. However, I realise now that this movement in sartorial awfulness is in fact a blessing in disguise.

For the first time in history, a wave of fashion has brought all of the cunts swiftly and clearly from the woodwork. They can be recognised, each and every one of them, and thus can be dealt with appropriately. So take your shotguns, take your machetes and cut them down where they stand in their white stilettos and imitation Nike boxing boots.

Or maybe just watch this nice episode of Run Potato Run set at the nude beach.


I'm back. Sorry not to have posted anything lately but I appreciate the sentiment of all of your letters of complaint. If it's of any worth, there's a shit load coming soon. Five new Fancy Soups on the way, a bunch more rubbish games and a whole lot of other random crap that's in development.

But first, and I'm pretty chuffed with this one, it's my new reality style TV show about Myra Hindley.

So thanks again for all the letters, I'll be posting a lot more again now that I'm free from the recent filth that's been destroying my life.

See ya,

With warnings of the SARS virus flooding the media I have chosen this week to quit licking the Chinese. I've been meaning to quit for some time now and this seems like a pretty good reason. It's just that they taste so good. Of course half an hour later you just want to lick another but they're relatively plentiful so it's no real problem.

I've been too busy of late and it's beginning to get on top of me. I've had very little time to make stuff for the site and folk are complaining. So, here are the doodles I've done when I should have been doing proper work. First is a wee film called Run Potato Run!

Second up is a short bit examining the sexuality of bumblebees. It's called I'd Like To Be A Bumble Bee.


I fucking hate guinea pigs. Fucking disgusting animals. They make that goddamn sound that's somewhere between a squeak and a thump. They stink like fucking horses. They feel unpleasant to the touch. And they're fucking ugly. I hate them and I want to step on them.

That is all.

Oh, and I found this on my hard drive. I made it years ago and forgot. It's my first ever song and it's called Bitch What's Wrong. Turn your speakers up because it's a little quiet.

Finally, here's a movie about boobs sent in by a guy named Ben.

I know I asked for crap films so it's kind of my own fault. Ben was only following instructions. Well done Ben.


I woke up in a cold sweat this morning at some ungodly hour before dawn and had just one terrible image in my mind. I drew this straight away.

I've not been able to get it out of my head. I don't think I can face leaving the house today. Maybe tomorrow too.

Cool, I made it into the press. Admittedly it's a motor magazine with occasional female nudity but I'm not complaining. The good people at this fine publication have been kind enough to spread the word of mung and tell the world about one of my little films.

Alas, it was Aks Jeeves and said magazine were not to know that within a week it would be torn from glory by the good people at Morrison & Foerster (attornerys at law C.A.) on behalf of their clients Ask Jeeves. Ho hum. Let God sort 'em out.

My first cutting! 'fraid I had to censor it
so I didn't get in any more trouble...

Sweet. Next mission: What House Wife Magazine.

Well, I've not won any fucking Oscars. I was up for best use of aggressive pornography in an all brail movie but some other cunt won it. Oh well, not to worry. There's always next year.

I've not been posting many films lately I'm afraid. Thing is I've been very busy with a special flic. I'm working with some other folk on this one and it's fucking ace. Alas it's a secret and I can't tell a soul. 6 month production too. Boy is it lookin' pretty...

I've a few Fancy Soup's in the pipeline and some other bits and pieces so there'll be something along soon. Oh and I'm gonna make another shitty game following the surprising sucess of Nun Lander.

Until then, some nice folk have sent me some movies they've made. In fact, I've a bit of a jam so here's the first one. More soon. No Name by James Milligan aged 17 from Gowerton. Enjoy.

Huh! Good God, ya'll! What is it good for?

Here are four things what war is good for:

1) Advances in medicine and technology.

2) Population culling (well, not so much these days).

3) Inspiration for timeless and genuinly interesting Hollywood movies.

4) That song about war, asking what it's good for, that song wouldn't exist without war and that's a pretty good song, so that's good too.

This week I made my first game. I took my inspiration from God Himself. It's called Nun Lander. It's fucking fantastic.

Actually, it's a bit lame, but what do I care?



On my tenth birthday my father took me to a prostitute and told me that I was a man now. He said he was going to have a cigarette and that he'd see me later. Then he closed the door behind him and I was left all alone with Maggie.

Maggie lived on the 8th floor of a high-rise estate not too far from where my mother and I were staying. I'd not seen my father in six years at that point and was touched that he'd made the gesture. Retrospectively, I feel it was an unusual thing for him to have done, but at the time I didn't want to let him down.

He never came back to get me. I waited in Maggie's front room for three and a half hours before she asked me to leave. I didn't know the area all that well and it was already getting dark as I made my way across the concrete lot surrounding the estate.

Some boys took my shoes on the way home but they didn't hurt me much and I was quite grateful. When I did eventually find our house, there wasn't anybody there. Most of our things were gone as well and the only real trace I could find that I'd ever really lived there at all, was my action man lying in the hallway. But someone had pulled off his arms and legs and I couldn't find them.

I went back to Maggie's because I had nowhere else to go. She wouldn't let me in and seemed annoyed that I'd come back. She said there were some big bins out back that she had known men to sleep inside in the past. I thanked her and went and slept in a bin. At about 4 in the morning, a man came and got into the bin with me. The following morning I left before he woke up.

Today I've been learning about action script (the programming language in Flash). I'm not wonderful so far but I have stumbled upon a way of using said script to give the viewer Parkinson's disease in the distant future. Click here to get Parkinson's one day. Go on, do it. Just Click and see. You probably don't believe me so what harm can it do? But it's true! Click it!

What a week. A few days ago I wrote that I hoped something bad would happend and it would depress me suitably enough to get the creative juices flowing like the gusset of some sweaty and well-frequented whore.

And would you believe it, the following morning I was woken at dawn by the DHL man serving me with my first piece of proposed litigation, care of a Californian firm of attorneys representing their client, Ask Jeeves inc.

They demanded that I remove my version from the site or they'd hurt me with lawyers. Well it was something to that effect; here's the letter. Anyway, I caved and Aks Jeeves is no more.

So, that, combined with several tedious personal issues coming to a filthy head, has dulled the brief spark and filled me with a familiar sense of ennui. Super!

I'm in a good mood. A great fucking mood. Spring has sprung (obviously not literally yet but in my little ugly flat it has). And the point is I'm happy as Larry. Big ugly fucking Larry who's just learned to walk again having been shot in the spine by his dad.

The downside is that I'm not feeling very creative. It seems that the drivel I turn out may well have been directly linked to the self-induced state of misery in which I have chosen to live for some time now.

Hopefully something bad will happen soon and I'll start to cry and bleed and hurl shit from my windows at women I'd normally be attracted to had I not built this awful, stagnant womb of pain and blissful seclusion around myself, and then I'll make something entertaining.

Until then, I will publish stuff I'm sent. Like this bit by Emma Guest aged 20 from Jarrow. She sent it to me last week and said it was about Jesus and that I'd like it. I do.

If you've made any movies, send me a link and if it's as good as Emma's bit, I'll stick it on the site.

Christ! I've not slept in a week. During the few minutes in which I do drift off, I'm having the blackest of dreams and usually wake in a cold sweat, more often than not, screaming and tearing at my own flesh as though the bugs inside were more than just the creations of my fevered mind. I must get a fix. These jellies do nothing.

So, this week I made a fairy tale. It's called

The Lamentable Tragedy of Mother Egg.

Well, it's Valentine's Day again and I'm alone, sat naked in the dark, drinking a bottle of gin. Still, I've had worse. Anyway, I made a Valentine's card for some mates and thought fuck it, I'll wack it up on the site for any lonely souls who happen to be browsing.



Once Upon A Time....There were three beautiful girls who went to the Police Academy, and they were each assigned very hazardous duties. But I took them away from all that and now they work for me. My name is Brian. And these are my angels!




This is Bosley

Well, I've gone and made my cheapest film yet. It must have taken all of half an hour. It was inspired by Michael Jackson and his lovely interview with Martin Bashir.
Click here to watch...

Fucking gypsies! Filthly little bastards have been hanging round the area lately. I wouldn't mind usually but it's what they get up to at night that disturbs me. Sticking their hairy little hands through your
letter box and stroking your dog for hours just to stay warm!

It's not right.

Anyway, I've finished Fancy Soup VI. It's my favourite and I hope you like it.

Well, it's Monday and the sun is shining and the dull ache in my soul has started to bleed. I bought a cat to keep me company but I forgot to feed it and it got sick and died. I don't have a garden so I couldn't bury it. Luckily it was only small (and fairly thin) so I just wrapped it in tin foil and stuck it in the freezer.

I might get a dog or something instead. Something that can feed itself. Or that doesn't need food. Like a bear. If I had a bear I'd wrestle the cunt. Every morning, I'd just get up and jump on the fucker. There's no better way to start the day than kicking seven shades of shit out of a malnourished bear.

I'm going back to bed.

I done made a search engine. Why not try Aks Jeeves?

I coughed up what looked like part of a malignant tumour this morning. I'm not a medical man but that's how it struck me. It also looked a bit like a mouse's face if it had no skin or eyes or mouth. Just a kind of a small pink and black triangle. It smelled really fucking rank so I threw it out my window into the street. I've just checked it now and it's gone. I hope a dog ate it. Or a kid.

Anyway, this week I've been making a film about a crack whore. I was aiming for a 50's sitcom kinda thing but I got bored and couldn't be fucked basically so it's not very long. Enjoy Strawberryin'.

So many fucking paedophiles. Is there anyone in British entertainment who doesn't like the kids (or some other form of sexual debauchery). With Lesley raping, Barrymore drug fucking, Deayton buying his love where he can find it, Glitter spreading glam jam, Townsend "investigating" the kiddie porn and now Kelly loving the young boy, what's it all coming to? Who's next? Philip Schofield? Richard Madeley? Peter Fucking Pervis?

I imagine so.

Matthew Kelly - Who fucking knew?!?

In more positive news, I've joined the Blazin Squad as there umpteenth member, Mungy B. Here's a picture of us all from the press release.


Well, the new year's here. And it all looks pretty bleak to me. For Christmas all I got was a card from my mum and a sack of human shit from my aunt. She's got the Alzheimer's, so it wasn't really that unexpected. I just feel bad about throwing it away because she obviously went to a lot of trouble.

As usual I've already pissed on any new years resolutions I might have made. I guess it's back down the sex offenders office for me.

Still, could be worse. As the song says "Don't be sad when you can be happy. Instead you can try cutting off your nut-sack and feeding it to your cat. You make me sick you pathetic worm ridden barrel of clown's hearts"

New Fancy Soup.

Happy new year.


Well, Christmas is here and the streets are filled with last minute shoppers and, according to recent reports, paedophiles.

Of course it's not all doom and gloom and in keeping with the festive spirit I've made a Spaceboy Christmas special this week. I've also been working on the second episode in the series, so here are both at once:

Spaceboy Xmas

Spaceboy Episode II

A very merry Christmas to one and all,



I've been as busy as Jesus for the last couple of weeks. Not only have I made a bunch more movies, but I've also been getting some nice paid work. So it's back on the smack for me. Yay.

Anywho, I've also bought a domain name. As an unfathomably vainglorious self-promoter, I thought I should buy my own name. Not enough people make use of their own name dotcoms. It was either that or but that was already taken by the German national bank.

So this week, not one but two badly made episodes of Fancy Soup (Fancy Soup 3 and Fancy Soup 4). Featuring the celebrity voiceover of none other than Professor Stephen Hawking.

Also, something I knocked together with some Australians. It's called How Done They Did That.




This week I've been shaving every fucking thing I can get my hands on. I started by shaving all my own bodily hair. Then I shaved my cat and a cactus I keep by my front door. Then I shaved the neighbours eight year old boy, when I had promised I would babysit him for the night. Then I shaved an old woman who had been in front of me at the post office. I kicked her door in and shaved her all over. Then I shaved my parents and one of my brothers. Then I shaved myself again because my hair was growing back. Then I cut off my fucking nipples and shat in my fridge and phoned every girl I'd ever been out with and told them I was a fucking vampire. That's all I've done this week. I can't be fucked to make cartoons at the moment. I'd rather sleep. And cry. And bleed.


What a funny week. People have sent me so many wonderful viruses. I don't know how to thank everyone. But cheers to those who sent me nice notes instead. They helped with my fragile ego and I've stopped cutting my arms and legs so often.

To celebrate the DVD release of E.T. I've made my own version. Click to watch E.T.

After being hit by a car this week I was privileged enough to meet Jesus. At first I didn't recognise him because he was an albino midget but he quickly explained himself and I understood. He told me that it was not yet my time and that I was to return to earth and live a good life. So I did. But not before beating him up with his own little hands whilst shouting "Why are you hitting yourself?!? Stop hitting yourself!"


I'm sick today. I've been puking blood and anger and shit and pain. I've forgotten to water all the plants in my house so they are dead now. I've reason to suspect Gary Coleman is the Devil.


Just put up a new Fancy Soup. It's called Vomit. Enjoy.


Been working a lot lately too. I'm tired and angry.

I've been considering sleeping with a lot more young girls recently. I want to see if I can meet one who's young and ignorant enough, that when I produce an egg from beneath the sheets after we first make love, I can convince her that she/I have laid it and that we will have to consider our options.

I've also finished off a flash film this week, called Super Astronaut Boy Deluxe Flying Action Also Brave. Take a look.



My name is Brian and this is my site. This is where I stick all the stuff they won't pay me for at work. My jobs there are various but I'm often left to my own devices to create animated content in Flash.

Here you'll find all the stuff that they refused to use (and a fair bit of the stuff they do use but that I still think is funny).

Sadly, as they are cunts, they own it all and I am just their whore. But they pay me to live so what can I do? Well, one thing I thought I could do was send packages containing faeces to myself at the main office. I started doing this last April.

As I only work there a couple days a week, these letters would often sit unopened for some time.

When I would finally open them, I'd get really upset and demand that the company do something about it or else I'd quit. I've stopped doing that now.


© copyright brian mung