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Hello and welcome to This is Genius weekly news show, featuring your comments from the
last week, as well as:
NSA spy on terror training camp that is angry birds,
Al-Queda trained angry birds launch terror attack against Vatican,
And Brokeback Mountain the Opera opens in Madrid AKA sing when you're ***.
But first, to your mobile phone and it seems that epic procrastination tool and toilet-break
extender Angry Birds could be acting as a gateway to your information. Yes, for reasons
that are abundantly clear to absolutely no-one, spies want to know what Games you play on
your phone or tablet, presumably so that they can copy the moves you did to get three stars
on that level with the pigs hidden under thedrawbridge.
GCHQ and the NSA - who are basically the matrix and based in absolutely everything you do
ever, may have developed a way of tapping into mobile phone apps, according to hole-riddled
security bucket Edward Snowden, who's now leaked so much for so long he's starting to
go rusty.
The tapping isn't confined to angry birds, apparently the NSA have also targeted google
maps, Flickr and others. Now that, you can almost understand. If you suspect someone
of being a terrorist, being able to see they're holidaying somewhere near the Khungerab pass
at camp bin loungin' MIGHT be useful. If you suspect someone of being a terrorist, being
able to see photos of the bombs they're making is handy.
But angry birds. What the hell could you possibly learn from angry birds. Are the pigs somehow
indicitive of Western decadence, their flimsy wooden castles metaphors for major public
buildings? Is this picture overlay not, as it may appear, enormously insensitive, but
actually what the NSA see when you fire the blue bird into the pile of glass blocks? No.
It's a f***ing game.
The NSA has responded that it would never spy on Americans, and Britain says that any
spying via apps is "Authorised, necessary and proportionate". Well as long as they aren't
spying on my Candy 'crush the western infidels' saga game, I guess that's ok. Oh, wait, no
it's not.
And now it's time for your comments, you chatty lot.
In our piece on a drunken Man U fan ringing police and demanding to speak to Alex Ferguson
about the Sunderland score, JaoCheu wrote ""not a police matter". Obviously she didn't
see the game. Ey, ey! FRANK LAMPARD BANTER ALERT!
SOT And in our bitter little report on the Grammy
awards, which is up until January 29th before we have to take it down so check it out if
you haven't, Peanutsreveng 3 wrote: That's more award bulls**t footage I've just seen
in the last 5 minutes than the previous 10 years at least.
Feel shameful Sam!
I do. Don't worry. I do. I'd like to thank my management for this guilt, my family. I
want to dedicate this guilt to all the fans who've supported me...
Anyway now it's time for some of the other stories we like from this week. And to Rome,
where, clearly brainwashed by al-queda funded mobile phone apps, a literal flock of angry
birds attacked two doves of peace released by the pope to bring peace to Ukraine. In
possibly the worst omen for peace ever, the doves of peace were torn a new one by the
seagul and the crow of hate, which sh** all over the papal peace attempt in a way that
only seagulls can, before stealing the chips of peace and leaving the child of diplomacy
a whimpering, hungry wreck crying for its mother.
If nothing else, this shows that NSA spying is totally ineffective. If, despite months
of spying on angry birds, a flock of angry birds manages to get through the net to launch
an attack in front of tens of thousands of people, their efforts are clearly not working.
We've actually got some footage of the attack here...
As you can see, the pope, there, represented by the pig, in comes the seagull. And the
pope has survived the attack unscathed, although the cistine chapel is now covered in sticky
white s***.
And finally to Madrid where coyboys sheepishly exploring their sexuality whilst also sheepishly
guarding sheep drama Brokeback mountain is about to enjoy it's operatic premiere. We're
sure it's brilliant. We're sure we're uncultured, but there's something truly bizarre about
seeing a quiet, moving film translated into a musical, complete with bad Star Trek esque
fight scenes, where, obviously the red shirt dies (he might not actually die), psycho esque
pillow talk complete with creepy murderer in the background,
And wierd James Bond dangling precariously from a bridge-esque music to accompany the
sex scenes... Incidentally, James Bond dangling precariously from a bridge is also a position.
If you happen to be in Madrid and like this kind of thing, it's on until February 11th.