This will be the first in a regular series of articles detailing the proclivities of the Proclivity. While it takes a rare individual to pluck up the gumption to declare their allegiance, it takes a rarer individual still to then make their mark and ascend through the Echelons.
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I have a healthy fixation with the words and phrases internet denizens have used to find this outlet of philosophy. And why not? After all, every other site operator out there probably trawls through their referals and says “grilled mackeral, what the hell?” dismissing it as a fluke, a distraction, a quirk of the ether. These people are fools, they do not realise that this search did not happen without cause, that the result was stumbled on without the searcher wanting to find the answer, so, whether the search be mispelled as with our good friend Mr Mackeral, nonsensical or just plain weird, I’ll happily fulfill any requests that come in.
Insert the rest of “The Viking Longboat Plan” » into your cortex

“Saturday,” wrote Mister Kipling, “had some young urchins at the back door trying to sell me their pornography hard-to-pronounce pharmaceutical substances. So I invited them in and they’re now shackled in my win cellar.”
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One man’s stand against legendary film-making.
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Friends, as you well know by now I am something of a veteran of the messageboard, an artisan of bulletin boards, a messiah of forums. To that end I have seen it all when it comes to abuse, spam, flaming, trolling, hotlinking, avatar-theft and every other fabricated internet crime one can imagine.
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So #1 step-daughter is off to university this weekend following in the footsteps of both myself and the wife to engage in what we lovingly refer to as Pointless Behaviour.
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Regulars to this site of webbery will be familiar with how this works. As you well know, a week ago I conducted my latest trawl through the various means by which Lady Google and her spidery hand-maidens had paid visit to my ethereal abode, and was struck by the presence of a well known French hotel.
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