Rankin Radio – Episode 1

Download Episode
Click and hold then ‘save as’

 

This is a test for android users, not just a lazy blog post

 

Suicide Dub Design Competition

I am looking for designs for a new range of Suicide Dub/High Rankin t-shirts.
Concept is simple, incorporate the logo into either design using no more than 3 colours at A3 size to be used on a t-shirt. It must be block colours with no fades so it can be used for screen printing.

Use the logo as it is or re-work it, illustrate it and be creative. You can use the logo as much or as little as you like as long as its in there somewhere.

The top designs (picked by me and my face) will be made into a t-shirts, sold online and will receive a share of the profits.

High Rez Logo >> http://dl.dropbox.com/u/44734807/LOGO%20BIG.jpg

To submit designs please post them on my facebook page www.facebook.com/highrankin and tag me in it.

Thank you kindly. I love you all.

Locker Room Diaries

Is it in any way necessary to spend upwards of 5 minute drying your misshapen cock and balls with a hair dryer in a gym changing room?
No. No it is not. Nor is it acceptable to swing them about like some sort unholy slingshot while liberally applying baby powder until the whole room looks like the Pillsbury Dough Boy staggered in drunk and threw up. It’s a changing room not ancient Rome you saggy skinned, badly, tattooed cretin. It always seems to be the guys with wangs that look like a depressed door mouse has topped it’s self in a stolen birds nest. I’m generally not bothered by the company of other naked men. After all i have lived in Brighton most of my life but there needs to be some quality control in these changing rooms. Or at the very least a special area for those whose parts resemble a half eaten dead rat trying to escape from a cartoon thunder cloud.
A man i see regularly in the gym posed an interesting question to me a few weeks ago. (You’ll need to put on a voice like a middle class Brightonion doing a shit Danny Dyer impression for this) “So, you’ve got FHM’s 100 sexiest woman lined up in front of you, naked, bent over and ready to receive. You are allowed one thrust in each, how many can you get through before you blow your beans?”. If GCSE maths had questions like this i would have passed first time and maybe even got a B. But that’s not to say its an easy question. There are many factors involved. Do you descend from 100 to 1 or ascend from 1 to 100? You need to account for wind resistance, nerves and when you last lost your muck. If i’m honest, weeks later i am still at a bit of a loss but i think it is unlikely to be any more than 2.

My guide to the home festival

If you’re one of the many people that missed out on tickets for Glastonbury or any of the other mudfests this year, don’t worry, you can put your own festival on at home for a fraction of the price.

First things first, you’ll need to set the scene. Get all the windows and doors in the house open. This is particularly important if it’s raining. It is also useful incase any waifs and stays wish to wander in off the street and join the fun.

Next on the agenda is sorting out your sleeping arrangements. This is easy enough by dragging your mattress into the kitchen and covering it in a bag of manure. Throw your duvet out the window, you won’t be needing it.

You are probably now going to want to see some acts, so get your iPhone out and download U2’s greatest hits and then get a low res picture of Bono and stick it at one end of the garden. Set your phone down next to it playing ‘Beautiful Day’ at an inaudible volume, go into the furthest away bedroom, charge yourself £15 for a warm can of cider and start throwing some shapes. You might at this point want to invite some friends round to occasionally push you on the floor and trample you a little. Your next port of call is to have one of your friends defecate all over your toilet floor and then fall asleep in it while you wait outside patiently for 3 hours holding in a piss and tweeting about how much of a great time you’re having.

After you have emptied you’re bladder you will probably fancy a little bite to eat. Have a root about in your freezer for some old burgers left over from a failed BBQ and pop one in the microwave for about 18seconds. Then, stick it between a couple of stale bits of Mighty White and dress it with lashing of out of date, pound-shop ketchup.

Lastly when you feel you have had quite enough crawl at 0.0001mph down your hall, out of the door and all the way to your parents house when you will want to cry in a the dark for up to a week while occasionally updating your facebook about how amazing it was and how you are now ever so tired and dreading going back to work.

JOB DONE. SAME TIME NEXT YEAR!

But Christmas was ages ago, no?

Wooohoooo it’s 2011!! Obviously it’s not. Well it is for you but not for me. I’m writing this in mid December as these sort of things have to be written in advance for obvious reasons, none of which i can be bothered to go into.
I thought for the new year i might try out a few new looks. Dubstep prick b2b moustache isn’t really working for me any more and i think i need a change. I’ve noticed a few good looks on women recently. My current favourites are 1. Moody and foreign 2. Attractive and upset 3. Angry and poor. All strong looks for 2011 i think you will agree.
I think i’m gonna go for distant and sexy. Either that or rugged and vulnerable, both should do the trick in the knicker dropping department. I am yet to feel in any way christmasy although i can tell it’s December by the fact my shit has turned a deep black colour from the amount of red wine i’m consuming. Christmas is probably a distant memory to you lot now, all happily going about your business in the future like some crap episode of the Twilight Zone.

Something that occurred to me the other day is that apart from driving, there is almost no situation that i couldn’t easily get away with being pissy drunk in. All drunk and pissed up on booze. Swig faced, sloshed, cunted. It’s almost as if god is telling me to drink more. ‘Go on Will, have another class of the magic humour juice. You’re nothing without it. Think of all the wild adventures you and Mr Pint have had. Go on Will, have another’. Fine, if that’s your attitude i fucking will and you can deal with the consequences you fictional bearded twat.
I have decided my new year resolutions are 1. Not pissing in the sink when there is washing up in it. 2. Not to get drawn in by the bright lights of Morrisons rotisserie chicken as it’s dreadful, i know its dreadful and it will always be dreadful. 3. Smash the ever loving shit out of Mumdance’s face the next time i see him.

Too ripe for public consumption

After more than i year i have finally had a column turned down by IDJ mag due being too ripe for public consumption. So here it is.

The First Time………….

The first time was in Laser Warriors in Hove when i was 13. You may have been there, it’s on the seafront next to the swimming baths. She was 17. I don’t know if it was the dark surroundings, the lasers zipping past our heads or the 90′s techno pumping from a knackered PA but something made her want me. Made her want me real bad.

That’s the official line, however the unofficial line states that the first time was on the floor of a Newhaven bungalow. I was 17 and more than a little nervous. Personally i choose to believe the former and i suggest you do too.

I got a real panic on a while back when i came to the terrible realisation that i had never slept with a virgin. I had never been that guy to deflower a young maiden. Never popped a cheery. I’d never played the lead role in a smash and grab, hymen heist. I can’t help but feel that at the ripe old age of 26 it’s unlikely i’m ever gonna get the chance.

Where would i even meet a willing 16 year old? Down the park? At the 5B bus stop? A nappy night? And what if she wasn’t 16, what if she was 15? What if she told her dad who in turn when to see my dad for a little bit of leg time with him and lady bat? It’s a sexual minefield and no mistake.

Maybe when i get married i could demand my wife is re-hymenised for our wedding night. That wouldn’t be weird at all. I’m sure it happens all over the world all the time. In fact, right now somewhere in the world, someone is getting a brand new hymen installed ready to get it smashed to buggery in the name of either religion or a bit of a laugh. I suggest you stop a minute to think about it. Really think about it.

Rave Romance

Jenny tugged excitedly at the belt of Danny’s slim fit jeans and ran her hands across his pale clammy chest. Danny lent a hand and soon the buckle was loose giving easy access to what lay beneath. Danny’s jaw twitched back and forth as beads of sweat dripped playfully from his brow. He teased his fingers through Jenny’s tangled pink dreadlocks and tugged at them gently. As Jenny peeled back his damp jeans she was underwhelmed with what she found lurking inside. Danny’s eyes rolled back in his head and he exhaled loudly. Jenny withdrew his less than basic erection and thumbed it about like a piece of warm blu-tac.

Danny knew he must concentrate hard even if it was just to thumb his semi gently inside Jenny with the hope it would increase its structural integrity within. Jenny lapped at Danny’s attempt and made the best with what she had found. She relieved him of his trousers and pants entirely and began to tug as his socks. Danny’s fingers curled and spasmed as he reached for the warm can of Red Stripe by the bedside. Jenny threw his socks to the floor and began to take off her vest and bra. The 7 year old tattoo of a dolphin on her lower back had not stood the test of time and resembled an unpleasant bruise.

She removed her Blue Blot jeans and knickers in one swift motion and set about the lads meat like a kitten with a ball of string. After what seemed like an age Jenny was confident that what she held in her hand was satisfactory for a penetration attempt and she pressed the sweaty unprotected length betwitzed her legs. As Danny’s dignity breached Jenny’s thick thatching she let out a faint moan and pushed it in further. With the help of a little extra moisture thanks to some applied spittle they were in business. Jenny bounced up and down 2 or 3 times until Danny’s substandard boner popped out and fell to one side. Jenny managed to feed it back in but was only forced to repeat the action a further 3 or 4 times. They were getting nowhere and Jenny was forced to merely grind about atop Danny and hope for the best. After she had found her rhythm Jenny started to feel some pleasure and began to think that perhaps it wasn’t such a disaster. She leaned her head back and began to breath heavily. Danny clutched at her breasts, kneading them back and forth. Jenny could feel Danny hardening beneath her and started to bring her hand down to help herself along. And then he jizzed.