Mr the Twat had a small south american hat
Mr the Twat had the social skills of a gnat
Mr the Twat did once outwit that splat
Mr the Twat was quite a bit fat
Mr the Twat sure do shat
Mr the Twat was always up for a bat
Mr the Twat ate too many kit kats
Mr the Twat should have chewed qat
Mr the Twat saw a walkman and spat
Mr the Twat certainly could chat
Mr the Twat never once knew where it was at
Mr the Twat never cried funk dat
Mr the Twat had less charm than a syphillis covered rat
Mr the Twat had a name that rhymed with Matt
Mr the Twat could have done with meeting Yasser Arafat (1960's gun weilding one)
Mr the Twat said 'roooaaar continuously like utter prat
Mr the Twat should not be confused with Mr Hat (who had a lot more charisma)
Mr the Twat squealed like a stuck pig at the thought of adventure
Mr the Twat was always banging on about emphanadas
Mr the Twat was a fucking bunghole
Mr the Twat never shut the fuck up
Mr the Twat tried to impress chicks by talking about weapons companies
Mr the Twat helped my italian no end
Mr the Twat was a turd
Mr the Twat left in Bolivia
thank fuck for that!
man i fucking hated Mr the Twat
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
vote for goat 2
the weekend past there was an election in these parts
a chance, nay an obligation to vote for the hypocrite of your choice
you could vote for Mr Thwacking of labourpains
Mr caricature smug fucker of libellous party
mr socially responsible of the bright green shirt party
mr ignorant hate monger of the fucking fist party
or a handful of independents running on various themes
to remove the grand prix from albert park
to have free ice cream at under age gigs
to ban weeds growing in cracks
to stick it to the man
to make everybody pray to some god somewhere
if only we had the monster raving loony party
to add some levity to the process
but no
there are the flunkies and floozies and fuckheads handing out broken trees
hardwood?
vote like this!
vote like that!
do as we say!
be more like the USA!
keep the queen!
sew fear and prejudice!
send children back down the mines!
exploit the least powerful!
work for gruel policy for the underemployed!
preferences sent off the gather sticks and kindling
nasty little hateful people searching out smalllikemindedminds
apparently somebody assaulted one of 'em...
hurrah
bunting everywhere
ribbons and rags
blocking your path like so many christians
or 3rd world people floggin something
needless to say i voted for the goat party
with their outstanding platform
it had banners and planks
sound policies regarding chewing on stuff
standing around being shitty
and general bloody mindedness
progressive beard wearing
representing of beelzebub
noteworthy clove hoof dictums
loved by the ancient greeks
(not in the same way they loved boys)
be it in the form of Pan or a Satyr
pumping out space rock on his pipes
running around knobbing all in sight
maidens, wenches and shepherds all
Then as usual the CHRISTIANS came along
with custom duplicity and manipulation
co-opted the image and made him out to be EEEEEEVIL
vote for goat!
a chance, nay an obligation to vote for the hypocrite of your choice
you could vote for Mr Thwacking of labourpains
Mr caricature smug fucker of libellous party
mr socially responsible of the bright green shirt party
mr ignorant hate monger of the fucking fist party
or a handful of independents running on various themes
to remove the grand prix from albert park
to have free ice cream at under age gigs
to ban weeds growing in cracks
to stick it to the man
to make everybody pray to some god somewhere
if only we had the monster raving loony party
to add some levity to the process
but no
there are the flunkies and floozies and fuckheads handing out broken trees
hardwood?
vote like this!
vote like that!
do as we say!
be more like the USA!
keep the queen!
sew fear and prejudice!
send children back down the mines!
exploit the least powerful!
work for gruel policy for the underemployed!
preferences sent off the gather sticks and kindling
nasty little hateful people searching out smalllikemindedminds
apparently somebody assaulted one of 'em...
hurrah
bunting everywhere
ribbons and rags
blocking your path like so many christians
or 3rd world people floggin something
needless to say i voted for the goat party
with their outstanding platform
it had banners and planks
sound policies regarding chewing on stuff
standing around being shitty
and general bloody mindedness
progressive beard wearing
representing of beelzebub
noteworthy clove hoof dictums
loved by the ancient greeks
(not in the same way they loved boys)
be it in the form of Pan or a Satyr
pumping out space rock on his pipes
running around knobbing all in sight
maidens, wenches and shepherds all
Then as usual the CHRISTIANS came along
with custom duplicity and manipulation
co-opted the image and made him out to be EEEEEEVIL
vote for goat!
Monday, November 27, 2006
the pink blog
boris was staying over at his friends house
when he and capitano fisticuffs got in it was pitch black
not baseball pitch
nor a sales pitch
pitch as in that black sticky stuff
he was shown to his place of temporal rest
something seemed odd to boris in the darkness
that's odd, he thought
he quickly drifted off into a dreamy sleep
he dreamt he was alone in a large, grandiose mansion
there was not a soul around
they were all outside watching this electrical storm
there were 3 wings
and no inbred twittering idiots to be seen
there were 4 water closets
where the owners kept their water
a total of 8 bedrooms
and a room atop some stairs
with a sign bluntly stating
"he who enters here is tost"
he decided against trying the door
he didnt wish to be tost after all...
in his mind he wandered these corridors
breaching each
he even found himself in the bowels
looking for some kind of service
you call this service?
nobody was to be seen
luckily, even in his dreams boris didnt believe in a spectral universe
mr and mrs and mr fisticuffs were nobody to be found
il capitano and his siblings had cleaned their rooms beyond recognition
even splat the donkey
and Lucifer the lettuce
left no trace of their having been there
another poisoning by the FSB?
another wall built across western sahara?
another anal probing story?
another god invented the earth in 1972 scam?
another keynesian economic rationalism fairy tale?
when he and capitano fisticuffs got in it was pitch black
not baseball pitch
nor a sales pitch
pitch as in that black sticky stuff
he was shown to his place of temporal rest
something seemed odd to boris in the darkness
that's odd, he thought
he quickly drifted off into a dreamy sleep
he dreamt he was alone in a large, grandiose mansion
there was not a soul around
they were all outside watching this electrical storm
there were 3 wings
and no inbred twittering idiots to be seen
there were 4 water closets
where the owners kept their water
a total of 8 bedrooms
and a room atop some stairs
with a sign bluntly stating
"he who enters here is tost"
he decided against trying the door
he didnt wish to be tost after all...
in his mind he wandered these corridors
breaching each
he even found himself in the bowels
looking for some kind of service
you call this service?
nobody was to be seen
luckily, even in his dreams boris didnt believe in a spectral universe
mr and mrs and mr fisticuffs were nobody to be found
il capitano and his siblings had cleaned their rooms beyond recognition
even splat the donkey
and Lucifer the lettuce
left no trace of their having been there
another poisoning by the FSB?
another wall built across western sahara?
another anal probing story?
another god invented the earth in 1972 scam?
another keynesian economic rationalism fairy tale?
Friday, November 24, 2006
memoirs of a painta
he stepped over the hedge trimmings
it was looking likely
he knew things weren't shaping up as he had hoped
a closure of kinds he supposed
recognition was surely only to come after his death
and with it would come fame, wealth and figa
not much use then...
what good to a corpse would all that be ?
oh sure
dress it up in big spiffing suits
extra posh make up on his bones
groupies digging him up and lewdly posing for photos on his carcass
loads and loads of big fuck off flowers by his headstone
whats the fucking point there hey?!
for now he was penniless and senseless
those blokes and women in trousers
the ones painting pale nobility
maybe in the 17th century it was all about your art
doing a da vinci and selling your behind for postcards
kissing arse of the pope and other rich nobs
just for another bowl of gruel
but he had no interest in posthumous glory
he wanted the wonga and the birds
pablo picasso never got called an arsehole (not in new york)
salvador dali was a shagmonster
gustav klimt had that thing with cats
miro had more shoes than imelda marcos
there must be a way to make the world sit up
and get the acclaim he deserved
he didn't really care about art
he marinated most art classes in high school
spent them smoking rolled up bits of canvas up the big oak tree
sometimes with a bit of paint remover to spice things up a bit
truth be known
he wanted to be a rock star
when nobody was around
which was most of the time
he put on his spangly leotards and played the air oboe in front of the mirror
and imagined a seething mosh pit before him
full of teeny girls...
crusty old blokes muttering respectfully in their cravattes
wanting to talk about the 'ists just didn't cut it
how to make art sexy again just as eduardo catflappo had before him?
it was looking likely
he knew things weren't shaping up as he had hoped
a closure of kinds he supposed
recognition was surely only to come after his death
and with it would come fame, wealth and figa
not much use then...
what good to a corpse would all that be ?
oh sure
dress it up in big spiffing suits
extra posh make up on his bones
groupies digging him up and lewdly posing for photos on his carcass
loads and loads of big fuck off flowers by his headstone
whats the fucking point there hey?!
for now he was penniless and senseless
those blokes and women in trousers
the ones painting pale nobility
maybe in the 17th century it was all about your art
doing a da vinci and selling your behind for postcards
kissing arse of the pope and other rich nobs
just for another bowl of gruel
but he had no interest in posthumous glory
he wanted the wonga and the birds
pablo picasso never got called an arsehole (not in new york)
salvador dali was a shagmonster
gustav klimt had that thing with cats
miro had more shoes than imelda marcos
there must be a way to make the world sit up
and get the acclaim he deserved
he didn't really care about art
he marinated most art classes in high school
spent them smoking rolled up bits of canvas up the big oak tree
sometimes with a bit of paint remover to spice things up a bit
truth be known
he wanted to be a rock star
when nobody was around
which was most of the time
he put on his spangly leotards and played the air oboe in front of the mirror
and imagined a seething mosh pit before him
full of teeny girls...
crusty old blokes muttering respectfully in their cravattes
wanting to talk about the 'ists just didn't cut it
how to make art sexy again just as eduardo catflappo had before him?
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
a goanna walked into a bar, he always called it that
the goat turned to the camel
the camel wasn't there
the hirsute horse may never have been there at all...
the spangly kitted germans smiled knowingly at eachother
an ugly english bloke with a tattoo bore down on them
2 Australians waited for their burgers
fiddled with their beers
and wondered what happened to the italian
a frenchwoman appeared and joined the germans
who sparkled quite magnificently
the ugly englishman moaned something naff and kissed barriers away
the australians attacked their burgers and found some more beer
ingenious aren't they?
clumsy attempts at tempting the unchaperoned euroschnaa
we will just continue our conversation
some scots is heard in the distance
australian bellies start to fill
a blurry italian walks in
an australian walks out
the relics shamble amongst themselves
small talk begins to spread its wings
swedes in darwin
germans in perth
french in brisbane
americans in adelaide
and sydney still full of wankers
britlanders fooking everywhere
and those luxembourgers in Koo wee rup
the languages melt
german, english, italian, french and pissedvis
where is the warmth ?
breeze caresses heads and hairs
it didn't seem that other-worldy
gestures swirling and lost in the dungeons
POOF
and perfect cloud appears
and even obscurity is obscured
leaving a chirpy italian and bad italian
the camel wasn't there
the hirsute horse may never have been there at all...
the spangly kitted germans smiled knowingly at eachother
an ugly english bloke with a tattoo bore down on them
2 Australians waited for their burgers
fiddled with their beers
and wondered what happened to the italian
a frenchwoman appeared and joined the germans
who sparkled quite magnificently
the ugly englishman moaned something naff and kissed barriers away
the australians attacked their burgers and found some more beer
ingenious aren't they?
clumsy attempts at tempting the unchaperoned euroschnaa
we will just continue our conversation
some scots is heard in the distance
australian bellies start to fill
a blurry italian walks in
an australian walks out
the relics shamble amongst themselves
small talk begins to spread its wings
swedes in darwin
germans in perth
french in brisbane
americans in adelaide
and sydney still full of wankers
britlanders fooking everywhere
and those luxembourgers in Koo wee rup
the languages melt
german, english, italian, french and pissedvis
where is the warmth ?
breeze caresses heads and hairs
it didn't seem that other-worldy
gestures swirling and lost in the dungeons
POOF
and perfect cloud appears
and even obscurity is obscured
leaving a chirpy italian and bad italian
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
pink piece of paper
it had probably been there since birth
the small bumps on his head could have triggered it
but it was unlikely
so they moved me to the psychiatric ward
can you sign this?
i have a signature you know
so im really pissed off at them, you know
then i realised that you know, that, my first letter starts with a d
they had been calling me johnny all day
thats fine
i suddenly realised
i said look, im somebody
its not a complete wipeout of memory
procedural memory is preserved
there was absolutely no way
where, why i have written this down
i know many young men
hello i am so scared
do you know who i am?
can you please come and pick me up?
my ninety year old mum has dementia
i didnt know who it was
i called my daughter
to a fault
people steal things
you might even know him
theres nothing i can do from here
the most traffic in the world... like
this person is coming and identifying you
they put doug on the phone
oh my god
she just goes
yeah you are doug
for me that was just
you know
i cant really desribe the feeling
the relief
the sense of belonging
i promise i will be there in half an hour
there goes nadine....
with her long black hair
the small bumps on his head could have triggered it
but it was unlikely
so they moved me to the psychiatric ward
can you sign this?
i have a signature you know
so im really pissed off at them, you know
then i realised that you know, that, my first letter starts with a d
they had been calling me johnny all day
thats fine
i suddenly realised
i said look, im somebody
its not a complete wipeout of memory
procedural memory is preserved
there was absolutely no way
where, why i have written this down
i know many young men
hello i am so scared
do you know who i am?
can you please come and pick me up?
my ninety year old mum has dementia
i didnt know who it was
i called my daughter
to a fault
people steal things
you might even know him
theres nothing i can do from here
the most traffic in the world... like
this person is coming and identifying you
they put doug on the phone
oh my god
she just goes
yeah you are doug
for me that was just
you know
i cant really desribe the feeling
the relief
the sense of belonging
i promise i will be there in half an hour
there goes nadine....
with her long black hair
Monday, November 20, 2006
going, going... sodded off
there is a story
about a man
this man knew his place
it was behind the tool shed
after fully blown meetings with the brains trust
and chez...
it was only 4 hours until the potentially most important day of his life
and where was he to be found?
sleeping restfully in his own bed?
studying the papers industrially?
carefully working his portfolio into the ground?
making sweet love with the gravy birds?
making up pointless questions?
no... he wasn't
he was sitting on a couch full of elephants
his mind altered
trying to fend off the flying bollocks
what was that noise?
the circuits in his brain fizzled and crackled...
he tried to slow down his thinking
he breathed slowly and dreamt of an orange coloured liquid
eventually the din subsided
leaving in his small dark world
fast foward a few hours
SIMON the REAL ESTATE AGENT is fussing about
his charmingly attractive assistant smiling radiantly
best put on a broad hatted rim
the gabbling unit of 1 was relegated
the crack team humped a car
backwards
SIMON the REAL ESTATE AGENT paced to and FRO
from an equilibrious distance you could have seen a parrot shit on his shoulder
the barriers flung outwards and hit a smoky old man
his cigarette briefly scorched the roof of his mouth
as his eyes popped wide open
as if someone had barred them so
then... nothing happened
ho hum
after a spirited contest between the assembled 2 parties
SIMON the REAL ESTATE AGENT feigned interest amidst his horseshit
and stalked early doors to consult
his return was marked by the irrefutable lingering whiff of ham
the frenzied gnashing of muppet
the bloke under a tree
pushing
shoving
birthing
screeching
contrapting
push the boat as far as the end of the porch
then with a counter-move
as fast as a snail in crutches with termites
as slick as a globule of phlegm
as decisively as syphillis on your bottom
as majestically as a man who smears faeces on his own face
the dubious duo of FRO and MO struck
and it was over
thank fook for that...
about a man
this man knew his place
it was behind the tool shed
after fully blown meetings with the brains trust
and chez...
it was only 4 hours until the potentially most important day of his life
and where was he to be found?
sleeping restfully in his own bed?
studying the papers industrially?
carefully working his portfolio into the ground?
making sweet love with the gravy birds?
making up pointless questions?
no... he wasn't
he was sitting on a couch full of elephants
his mind altered
trying to fend off the flying bollocks
what was that noise?
the circuits in his brain fizzled and crackled...
he tried to slow down his thinking
he breathed slowly and dreamt of an orange coloured liquid
eventually the din subsided
leaving in his small dark world
fast foward a few hours
SIMON the REAL ESTATE AGENT is fussing about
his charmingly attractive assistant smiling radiantly
best put on a broad hatted rim
the gabbling unit of 1 was relegated
the crack team humped a car
backwards
SIMON the REAL ESTATE AGENT paced to and FRO
from an equilibrious distance you could have seen a parrot shit on his shoulder
the barriers flung outwards and hit a smoky old man
his cigarette briefly scorched the roof of his mouth
as his eyes popped wide open
as if someone had barred them so
then... nothing happened
ho hum
after a spirited contest between the assembled 2 parties
SIMON the REAL ESTATE AGENT feigned interest amidst his horseshit
and stalked early doors to consult
his return was marked by the irrefutable lingering whiff of ham
the frenzied gnashing of muppet
the bloke under a tree
pushing
shoving
birthing
screeching
contrapting
push the boat as far as the end of the porch
then with a counter-move
as fast as a snail in crutches with termites
as slick as a globule of phlegm
as decisively as syphillis on your bottom
as majestically as a man who smears faeces on his own face
the dubious duo of FRO and MO struck
and it was over
thank fook for that...
Saturday, November 18, 2006
lacking in magazines
dont read ola
dont read hello
dont read pronto
dont read fintocchio
dont read ththththt
dont read new car goatly
dont read rugs r us
dont read karl rove magazine
dont read corporation fistie
dont read guardian and garden
dont read laotion delights
dont read juggggs
dont read a play on turds
dont read a man in need
dont read GHQ
dont read holidays by people that scuk
dont read the new shirty
dont read of men and mites
dont read batty boy weekly
dont read frozen popstarlets
dont read team smear
dont read failings bazaar
dont read computer nerd bokko
dont read between the lines
dont read hello
dont read pronto
dont read fintocchio
dont read ththththt
dont read new car goatly
dont read rugs r us
dont read karl rove magazine
dont read corporation fistie
dont read guardian and garden
dont read laotion delights
dont read juggggs
dont read a play on turds
dont read a man in need
dont read GHQ
dont read holidays by people that scuk
dont read the new shirty
dont read of men and mites
dont read batty boy weekly
dont read frozen popstarlets
dont read team smear
dont read failings bazaar
dont read computer nerd bokko
dont read between the lines
Friday, November 17, 2006
the bleedin' obvious
1. hello
2. this is a blog
3. it's not that interesting
4. it's in point form
5. struth
6. when typing you use your fingers
7. a knob that is, not a plug socket
8. the colour scheme of this blog has been shamelessly copied
9. strike a light
10. a watched monitor is absolutely no different to an unwatched monitor
11. the boiling point of water is about now
12. hello again
13. nobody reads this blog
14. all pets speak italian
15. I wish my last name was fuller
16. we shall meet again
17. living in 2 hemispheres can be difficult
18. unless you live in Colombia or something
19. sorry about that
20. this blog looks like a brothel
2. this is a blog
3. it's not that interesting
4. it's in point form
5. struth
6. when typing you use your fingers
7. a knob that is, not a plug socket
8. the colour scheme of this blog has been shamelessly copied
9. strike a light
10. a watched monitor is absolutely no different to an unwatched monitor
11. the boiling point of water is about now
12. hello again
13. nobody reads this blog
14. all pets speak italian
15. I wish my last name was fuller
16. we shall meet again
17. living in 2 hemispheres can be difficult
18. unless you live in Colombia or something
19. sorry about that
20. this blog looks like a brothel
Thursday, November 16, 2006
days ending in Y
School nights have been cancelled
There’s no such thing as gainful
Half price chop smacking?
10 peseta butane globules?
First a stop at Smart Artist Trivial seat
Trevor knew no bounds
Rather disappointing crowding
Guffawing and not pointing out the pointless
Buttered steak behinds
Feel the badness slide down yer throaty
Arteries clog
Funk dat
Why pray for today?
Or pay full price for the play?
Off to a blustering beginning
Thank the sky for the cold, cold wind
Thank the Inca people for a warm, warm ear protector machine
Unshaven barbarian mooching forwards
A slow place like gnome
A gay bar without gay people
It’s so hard to have one on your own
We are Jolly, enough said
Odds on it’ll be Michael Jackson
Don’t try to deny the many colours of the special rainbow
The guy lurching at the far wall
The twirling ladies in their finery
The mugs with the cups pinned to their foreheads
Very plastic noise pollution
No seats for you big guy
A better place awaits vosotros
Half as nice at the same ole price
Norvegia re-faces you
Since when don’t they speak uzbeki in Finland ?
Even the ugly ones
Friends made over fire machines
Strange stoolfellows
Jogging past 14 pubs
Smiling at 20,000 feet
Hitler youth renamed Cubs
The suffering of the german people was no need to call it off
Apparently they deserved it…
Mr bowling with his cazzo talks the chat
Making new figa friends
Connected at the hippy
The endless sea
Washing all over he, me and we
If only you could trust a figa
As Jason Plato once proclaimed at Netherbottom Circuit
Tis hard to be profound at 250kph in the rain…
Mr muppet adjusts his stick
Mr maggot looks for a stronzo
There’s that guy he was!
There’s no such thing as gainful
Half price chop smacking?
10 peseta butane globules?
First a stop at Smart Artist Trivial seat
Trevor knew no bounds
Rather disappointing crowding
Guffawing and not pointing out the pointless
Buttered steak behinds
Feel the badness slide down yer throaty
Arteries clog
Funk dat
Why pray for today?
Or pay full price for the play?
Off to a blustering beginning
Thank the sky for the cold, cold wind
Thank the Inca people for a warm, warm ear protector machine
Unshaven barbarian mooching forwards
A slow place like gnome
A gay bar without gay people
It’s so hard to have one on your own
We are Jolly, enough said
Odds on it’ll be Michael Jackson
Don’t try to deny the many colours of the special rainbow
The guy lurching at the far wall
The twirling ladies in their finery
The mugs with the cups pinned to their foreheads
Very plastic noise pollution
No seats for you big guy
A better place awaits vosotros
Half as nice at the same ole price
Norvegia re-faces you
Since when don’t they speak uzbeki in Finland ?
Even the ugly ones
Friends made over fire machines
Strange stoolfellows
Jogging past 14 pubs
Smiling at 20,000 feet
Hitler youth renamed Cubs
The suffering of the german people was no need to call it off
Apparently they deserved it…
Mr bowling with his cazzo talks the chat
Making new figa friends
Connected at the hippy
The endless sea
Washing all over he, me and we
If only you could trust a figa
As Jason Plato once proclaimed at Netherbottom Circuit
Tis hard to be profound at 250kph in the rain…
Mr muppet adjusts his stick
Mr maggot looks for a stronzo
There’s that guy he was!
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
St Kezmania the lesser
so that bloke from Casa Affollata got a bit of a path in a bit of a grassy area named after him...
That's pretty average really. He must have been a nice bloke, done something interesting or had a cool hat or something.
that chick that sold her butt on the corner of the street may get the corner named after her
Slut Corner has a nice ring to it..
Donaldo Bradmano had an oval, a castle and a tapir husbandry establishment named after him. There was also the Bradmano Adult Bookshoop, the Bradmano Noodle and Soup Bar and the Bradmano Shooting Gallery for the Criminally Insane.
Unfortunately, the latter grouping had to be closed down after a law was passed by a pack of tosspots outlawing naming anything Bradmano unless it was white and male.
I even see that in the Ubiquitous Shitheads of Ambiguity they are going to build a big statue in honour of Mr Marvellous Martin Loothead Sheen. So a big grey thing is to be constructed, the We Got That Black Guy By The CIA/KKK Memorial Minefield.
That pales and pails into munificence compared to the shortly to be announced renaming of St Kilda, (suburb of Melbourne Australia, at least for the last 100 years approx) to St Kezmania. It has been unanimously decided that naming a suburb of Melbourne, after a small Outer Hebridian island was a bit silly. After all, nobody speaks Celtic, there is a distinct lack of big fuck-off rocks and it's not strictly speaking, an island that's constantly battered by the North Atlantic.
In light of the inappriopriateness of this naming, a search began in the late 1930's for a new name for this inner bourbon brothel. A patron saint with class, panache and who was famed for her work with the legless lepers of Bastardsville, Nubia was sought. Mysteriously only one candidate was found and that was the renowned St Kezmania. Her lesser known miracles include drinking a liquified kidney stone (with salt), publishing a treatise on the rights of indigenous goat growers in lower Cacofonia and turning scabies into a delicous snack treat.
The residents of St Kilda (not the island) will be informed of this change in their status and widespread looting, burning, and laughing at big hair is expected if not obligatory.
That's pretty average really. He must have been a nice bloke, done something interesting or had a cool hat or something.
that chick that sold her butt on the corner of the street may get the corner named after her
Slut Corner has a nice ring to it..
Donaldo Bradmano had an oval, a castle and a tapir husbandry establishment named after him. There was also the Bradmano Adult Bookshoop, the Bradmano Noodle and Soup Bar and the Bradmano Shooting Gallery for the Criminally Insane.
Unfortunately, the latter grouping had to be closed down after a law was passed by a pack of tosspots outlawing naming anything Bradmano unless it was white and male.
I even see that in the Ubiquitous Shitheads of Ambiguity they are going to build a big statue in honour of Mr Marvellous Martin Loothead Sheen. So a big grey thing is to be constructed, the We Got That Black Guy By The CIA/KKK Memorial Minefield.
That pales and pails into munificence compared to the shortly to be announced renaming of St Kilda, (suburb of Melbourne Australia, at least for the last 100 years approx) to St Kezmania. It has been unanimously decided that naming a suburb of Melbourne, after a small Outer Hebridian island was a bit silly. After all, nobody speaks Celtic, there is a distinct lack of big fuck-off rocks and it's not strictly speaking, an island that's constantly battered by the North Atlantic.
In light of the inappriopriateness of this naming, a search began in the late 1930's for a new name for this inner bourbon brothel. A patron saint with class, panache and who was famed for her work with the legless lepers of Bastardsville, Nubia was sought. Mysteriously only one candidate was found and that was the renowned St Kezmania. Her lesser known miracles include drinking a liquified kidney stone (with salt), publishing a treatise on the rights of indigenous goat growers in lower Cacofonia and turning scabies into a delicous snack treat.
The residents of St Kilda (not the island) will be informed of this change in their status and widespread looting, burning, and laughing at big hair is expected if not obligatory.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Monday, November 13, 2006
We all came back from the war...
I wish somebody could give me what for
so war it is to be
war is in the air
la la la la
I can't wait until i become the head horse trader of this stick dessert
here's a cracking new idea
let's renew the age of chivalry
when men died in an orderly manner
without ever questioning why
i will send off everybody I don't like
or doesn't like me
or who looks a bit different
walks a bit funny
or prays in the wrong direction to a god with a different beard
maybe people with lisps, accents or a runny nose
i will send wave after wave of my men...
hundred of thousands died needlessly, heedlessly in the Somme in the brave new century
tens of thousands were slaughtered on Iwo Jima in the brave new century part 2
at least ten thousand were massacred in Istria and Venezia Giulia, ditto
that's been my last week
learn something from it ?
ummmm no
broken bodies and broken minds
male species having their heads royally fucked
all in the name of the king
By George
the ones that come back
or walk the plank around the block
zombies
dead on the inside
non copers doing what all non copers do
damage the goods of those around them
these damaged goods get stashed in the shed
until they are old enough enough to be mature
and set off on the next adventure of feckless maiming
the ones that come back
get out the goods and give them a good whacking
and we all change places and start again
so the chimp needs to show his intelligent design
or so he is told
flex the stupid muscle
get a lap doggy in tow
and a worm if really necessary
hi ho, hi ho let's save the universe
let's pay no heed
let's work with greed
no toil without oil
lap doggy jumps on board
to temper the tempers
to make the buffoons see reason
is that really credible ?
does power indeed so thoroughly corrupt the brain ?
it's hard to leave aside the habit of empire
or commonwealth
to give this enterprise a legitimate handle
go fish
not without a worm
and this one turned out to be an ugly fucker
shaping a nation in his ugly fucking image
so war it is to be
war is in the air
la la la la
I can't wait until i become the head horse trader of this stick dessert
here's a cracking new idea
let's renew the age of chivalry
when men died in an orderly manner
without ever questioning why
i will send off everybody I don't like
or doesn't like me
or who looks a bit different
walks a bit funny
or prays in the wrong direction to a god with a different beard
maybe people with lisps, accents or a runny nose
i will send wave after wave of my men...
hundred of thousands died needlessly, heedlessly in the Somme in the brave new century
tens of thousands were slaughtered on Iwo Jima in the brave new century part 2
at least ten thousand were massacred in Istria and Venezia Giulia, ditto
that's been my last week
learn something from it ?
ummmm no
broken bodies and broken minds
male species having their heads royally fucked
all in the name of the king
By George
the ones that come back
or walk the plank around the block
zombies
dead on the inside
non copers doing what all non copers do
damage the goods of those around them
these damaged goods get stashed in the shed
until they are old enough enough to be mature
and set off on the next adventure of feckless maiming
the ones that come back
get out the goods and give them a good whacking
and we all change places and start again
so the chimp needs to show his intelligent design
or so he is told
flex the stupid muscle
get a lap doggy in tow
and a worm if really necessary
hi ho, hi ho let's save the universe
let's pay no heed
let's work with greed
no toil without oil
lap doggy jumps on board
to temper the tempers
to make the buffoons see reason
is that really credible ?
does power indeed so thoroughly corrupt the brain ?
it's hard to leave aside the habit of empire
or commonwealth
to give this enterprise a legitimate handle
go fish
not without a worm
and this one turned out to be an ugly fucker
shaping a nation in his ugly fucking image
Sunday, November 12, 2006
the smugma identity
pink sky at night
a bungholes delight
pink t-shirts in the Prince of Wales
a bungholes delight
the vineyard was pumping
the public toilet was overflowing
acland street has humming
cafes spewing out people on the street
rugby on the telly in the pub
a pub that may or may not be a bugger joint
disappearing houses on forknerd st
maybe it's better that way
there's a gay time to be had
that much is for sure
basta with the camping
affectation is neither endearing or enduring
not that a toss would be heaved this way
ridiculous overgrown tennis balls
reaching for the sky
hedge trimmers are for the anally retentive, aren't they?
whipper snipper that sly minx into shape
if only he had met any
that universe that pulsates
are the smiles real ?
what is it that they know ?
they might share it if they were minded to
rest the toast of the ghost
he can't be happy at what goes on
a picnic
a social occasion
a small lady
a big sin
a rollicking pin
a chicken bin
horizons narrowing
minds lashed closed
unfortunate coincidences
sleight sights of hands
hiding whispered doubts
what did they say ?
did said pills pay the bills ?
violent reactions
innocuous remarks
what is possibly to fear ?
sputt in the face
damaged goods in shopfront window
a stolen glance
demanding to be returned
perspective in imminent danger
prospective sails off horizon bound
bleak is the new black
why did he scamper ?
just like the american soldier on iwo jima
flamin
a bungholes delight
pink t-shirts in the Prince of Wales
a bungholes delight
the vineyard was pumping
the public toilet was overflowing
acland street has humming
cafes spewing out people on the street
rugby on the telly in the pub
a pub that may or may not be a bugger joint
disappearing houses on forknerd st
maybe it's better that way
there's a gay time to be had
that much is for sure
basta with the camping
affectation is neither endearing or enduring
not that a toss would be heaved this way
ridiculous overgrown tennis balls
reaching for the sky
hedge trimmers are for the anally retentive, aren't they?
whipper snipper that sly minx into shape
if only he had met any
that universe that pulsates
are the smiles real ?
what is it that they know ?
they might share it if they were minded to
rest the toast of the ghost
he can't be happy at what goes on
a picnic
a social occasion
a small lady
a big sin
a rollicking pin
a chicken bin
horizons narrowing
minds lashed closed
unfortunate coincidences
sleight sights of hands
hiding whispered doubts
what did they say ?
did said pills pay the bills ?
violent reactions
innocuous remarks
what is possibly to fear ?
sputt in the face
damaged goods in shopfront window
a stolen glance
demanding to be returned
perspective in imminent danger
prospective sails off horizon bound
bleak is the new black
why did he scamper ?
just like the american soldier on iwo jima
flamin
Saturday, November 11, 2006
bang your head until you're dead
metal:a headbangers journey
so this bogan bloke loves his metal
it took him from being a spotty little canadian guy
to a spotty little candadian bogan guy
he grew his hair long
and time permitting grew a gnarli rad
he found his 'community'
lots of other bogans
being cranky about stuff
and taking it out on their spinal cords
small brain damage beer
said canadian bogan then went on to university
and read anthropology
it took a while
as it's a long word
and he was a bogan
he travelled to Central America
to understand other cultures
and wrote a book or something
then he turned his attentions to his one true love
a society he 'had been defending since he was 12'
very metal
and made a study of metal, it's roots, it's varieties, it's fans, it's sluts and junk and stuff
he talked to famous old metal people
and young norwegian psychos
lots of german bogans in a field
to try and understand the whys and hows of metal music
and why metal had been demonised and patronised ever since then
a good fust was made of it
and despite his obvious boganic tendencies
he seemed to have control of his synapses
and made valid points
about crotch thrusting
who was the first metal bogan, apparently bleck sebbeth
the devils note
metal boys hair bands
norwegians not liking the lutheran church
tents in whacking camper
and junk and stuff
he failed to demonstrate though,
how if you watch a film for too long
seated in the incorrect manner
you get a sore arse
overall very interesting, if only the subject was the church...
i give it 3 thumbs semi erect and a short pony ride to creel
so this bogan bloke loves his metal
it took him from being a spotty little canadian guy
to a spotty little candadian bogan guy
he grew his hair long
and time permitting grew a gnarli rad
he found his 'community'
lots of other bogans
being cranky about stuff
and taking it out on their spinal cords
small brain damage beer
said canadian bogan then went on to university
and read anthropology
it took a while
as it's a long word
and he was a bogan
he travelled to Central America
to understand other cultures
and wrote a book or something
then he turned his attentions to his one true love
a society he 'had been defending since he was 12'
very metal
and made a study of metal, it's roots, it's varieties, it's fans, it's sluts and junk and stuff
he talked to famous old metal people
and young norwegian psychos
lots of german bogans in a field
to try and understand the whys and hows of metal music
and why metal had been demonised and patronised ever since then
a good fust was made of it
and despite his obvious boganic tendencies
he seemed to have control of his synapses
and made valid points
about crotch thrusting
who was the first metal bogan, apparently bleck sebbeth
the devils note
metal boys hair bands
norwegians not liking the lutheran church
tents in whacking camper
and junk and stuff
he failed to demonstrate though,
how if you watch a film for too long
seated in the incorrect manner
you get a sore arse
overall very interesting, if only the subject was the church...
i give it 3 thumbs semi erect and a short pony ride to creel
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
me and my culo take 2
trevor decided it was time to introduce his new special friend around school
nobody seemed to want to know
they all looked at him strangely
what's wrong with these people?
is it a racialist thing?
he knew he must keep his culo to himself for the timebeing
obviously the world wasn't quite ready for him
eeeediots!
in the end he knew what was to be
he would bring his culo along to show and tell
and show all and see what they could tell him
flogger was up first
his talking mushroom was a flop
alphabeticalism he thought to himself
then minky
shy and retiring
got her monkey out to a large round of applause
not that he was intimidated
he knew his culo was a match for any of them
all was needed now was to wait out Boris
ahh, Boris and his great disappearing bag
he made it disappear
he sure did
he sure did
seen it all before
thought trevor
the butterflies started a major firefight in his belly
was he to be Bowie without a wig?
what if the back row boys took issue with him ?
that freak Glug that sniffed thumbtacks was a scary prospect
Trevor hoped his culo would impress that nutter
once they had met him,
there would be no more knocking clevor trever
Miss Pantywaste called his name
he looked back
no time to hesitate
ready culo?
hello?
well it's time for the show
whether culo feels up for it or not
he pushed back his chair
took his culo by the hand
and proceeded down the aisle
feeling a thousand pin prick stares...
nobody seemed to want to know
they all looked at him strangely
what's wrong with these people?
is it a racialist thing?
he knew he must keep his culo to himself for the timebeing
obviously the world wasn't quite ready for him
eeeediots!
in the end he knew what was to be
he would bring his culo along to show and tell
and show all and see what they could tell him
flogger was up first
his talking mushroom was a flop
alphabeticalism he thought to himself
then minky
shy and retiring
got her monkey out to a large round of applause
not that he was intimidated
he knew his culo was a match for any of them
all was needed now was to wait out Boris
ahh, Boris and his great disappearing bag
he made it disappear
he sure did
he sure did
seen it all before
thought trevor
the butterflies started a major firefight in his belly
was he to be Bowie without a wig?
what if the back row boys took issue with him ?
that freak Glug that sniffed thumbtacks was a scary prospect
Trevor hoped his culo would impress that nutter
once they had met him,
there would be no more knocking clevor trever
Miss Pantywaste called his name
he looked back
no time to hesitate
ready culo?
hello?
well it's time for the show
whether culo feels up for it or not
he pushed back his chair
took his culo by the hand
and proceeded down the aisle
feeling a thousand pin prick stares...
foibe e crop rotation
any questions regarding le foibe in Istria at the end of the second world war or crop rotation in Genova in the 14th century?
such practical knowledge can come very much in handy, don't you find?
such practical knowledge can come very much in handy, don't you find?
Monday, November 06, 2006
me and my culo
the story of a boy and his pet ...
5 year old Trevor had always wanted a best friend
at kindgergarten he had sought one out
he had made some acquaintances
some other kids to join in the horseplay
but they seemed little more than pets to Trevor
his parents had even given him variously
a parrot called Beaster,
a redfish call Goldie Coloured Slacks,
a white mouse called Sleaze
to all of which he had felt some affection
but it was never like he could 'play' with them
like he had seen on the internet...
argh the frustration !
he was unable to articulate his need for companionship to his parents
his vocabulary let him down
and his pleas for assistance just came across as tantrums and incessant whining
He had tried to adopt an imaginary friend such as had done his peers
he cooked up Nacho the Spanish waitress
Blitzun the bison
and Mick Harvey the musician..
but none of them were more than ephemeral
not comrades for hours of distractions and diversion
then, all in one tract
he met his best-friend-to-be
a curious chap
not much to say
but always wanting to contribute to the conversation
now he thought about it, his culo had always been around
but always somewhere just out of sight
5 year old Trevor had always wanted a best friend
at kindgergarten he had sought one out
he had made some acquaintances
some other kids to join in the horseplay
but they seemed little more than pets to Trevor
his parents had even given him variously
a parrot called Beaster,
a redfish call Goldie Coloured Slacks,
a white mouse called Sleaze
to all of which he had felt some affection
but it was never like he could 'play' with them
like he had seen on the internet...
argh the frustration !
he was unable to articulate his need for companionship to his parents
his vocabulary let him down
and his pleas for assistance just came across as tantrums and incessant whining
He had tried to adopt an imaginary friend such as had done his peers
he cooked up Nacho the Spanish waitress
Blitzun the bison
and Mick Harvey the musician..
but none of them were more than ephemeral
not comrades for hours of distractions and diversion
then, all in one tract
he met his best-friend-to-be
a curious chap
not much to say
but always wanting to contribute to the conversation
now he thought about it, his culo had always been around
but always somewhere just out of sight
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Team Dream Machine inc.
welcome to Team Dream Machine!
Team Dream Machine was launched on a couch in box hill in the 1990's with 4 moons with a cassette recorder, the summer olympics and a bing bang bong - from squawking identically to easter mountaineering to boning. The campaign was Team Dream Machine's first meal ticket into the australian and fijian coup markets and the support of the elite moons provided ..... credibility, viability, and valuable bollock stripping. since the first Team Dream Machine campaign, sux of the enormous maggots have gone on to become well honed in the bruce arena inc arena - some are really dull, some are really duller and some are just dullards. all moons sold their own grandma's to satan's sexual abuse centerrrrrr and then hung around Mcbastards and told huge lies about eachother in a bid to add................... credibility.
Team Dream Machine was launched on a couch in box hill in the 1990's with 4 moons with a cassette recorder, the summer olympics and a bing bang bong - from squawking identically to easter mountaineering to boning. The campaign was Team Dream Machine's first meal ticket into the australian and fijian coup markets and the support of the elite moons provided ..... credibility, viability, and valuable bollock stripping. since the first Team Dream Machine campaign, sux of the enormous maggots have gone on to become well honed in the bruce arena inc arena - some are really dull, some are really duller and some are just dullards. all moons sold their own grandma's to satan's sexual abuse centerrrrrr and then hung around Mcbastards and told huge lies about eachother in a bid to add................... credibility.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
then I met Mr. Couldn't Possibly Be Arsed
so i nicked these Sir Alex Ferguson (Manchester United FC manager of 20 years) quotes from the Guardian website...
"Clubs come away from Anfield choking on their own vomit and biting their own tongues knowing they have been done by the referee" - revealing his love for Liverpool after the 10-man Rowdies grabbed a 3-3 draw in 1988.
"I should have gone ahead and signed Mick Harford" - explaining why the Rowdies failed to win the league in 1992.
"Big? It isn't big. It's magnificent! I've seen some whoppers in my time, but Dion's is something else" - Ferg's verdict on Dion Dublin's lunchbox, according to the then Coventry chairman Bryan Richardson, in 1994.
"I f*****g told youse not to ask that John. You know the rules here" - introducing John Motson to the hairdryer after Motty asked why Roy Keane had slugged Jan Fjortoft in 1995.
"If he was an inch taller he'd be the best centre-half in Britain. His father is 6ft 2in - I'd check the milkman" - appraising Gary Neville's parentage in 1996.
"He probably started crying" - explaining why Jack Walker wouldn't let Alan Shearer go to the DevilBowl in 1996.
"Some sinister magic appeared to be at work" - after defeat to Borussia Dortmund in the 1997 Big Cup semi-final.
"He's a bully, a f*****g big-time Charlie" - an impromptu paean to his former midfield stalwart Paul Ince in 1998.
"When an Italian says it's pasta I check under the sauce to make sure" - the old charmer limbers up for a visit to Milan in 1999.
"Football. Bloody hell" - lost for words after the Treble victory in 1999.
"We were very unlucky to lose the toss twice and play into the sun" - putting a novel spin on embarrassing failure at the World Club Championship in 2000.
"I'm no' f*****g talking to you. Veron's a great f***ing player. Youse are all f***ing idiots" - building bridges with the press after criticism of Juan Veron in 2002.
"My greatest challenge was knocking Liverpool right off their f****n' perch, and you can print that" - responding to Alan Hansen's suggestion that regaining the title in 2002-03 would be his greatest challenge.
"Just f*****g patch him up" - Fergie's reputed instruction to the United physio after lamping a stray boot into David Beckham's face in 2003.
"It's getting tickly now. Squeaky-bum time, I call it" - tickling Arsenal's undercarriage in 2003.
"Real Madrid - they have a nice draw, they must have picked it themselves. The Spanish or Italian teams don't play each other, how do you think they work that out? They don't want us in the final, that's for sure, but I'm not listening" - after the Rowdies drew Real in Big Cup quarter-final in 2003. They lost.
"Arsenal played too many draws. The best team in England? That's always debatable" - evaluating Arsenal's 2003-04 Invincibles.
"Could I have two bullets?" - when asked 'If you had one bullet and Victoria Beckham and Arsene Wenger were in the room, what would you do?' in 2004.
"We're as good as Chelsea, no question" - after finishing eight points off the pace last season.
"It's scandalous that some people think I should retire. I have every right to work hard. I am going to continue working" - warming up for a few more years on the eve of his 20th anniversary.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
QUOTE OF THE DAY
"I was scared to death of him the first time I met him. I still am actually" - Paul Scholes pays tribute to Lord Ferg.
*********************
"Clubs come away from Anfield choking on their own vomit and biting their own tongues knowing they have been done by the referee" - revealing his love for Liverpool after the 10-man Rowdies grabbed a 3-3 draw in 1988.
"I should have gone ahead and signed Mick Harford" - explaining why the Rowdies failed to win the league in 1992.
"Big? It isn't big. It's magnificent! I've seen some whoppers in my time, but Dion's is something else" - Ferg's verdict on Dion Dublin's lunchbox, according to the then Coventry chairman Bryan Richardson, in 1994.
"I f*****g told youse not to ask that John. You know the rules here" - introducing John Motson to the hairdryer after Motty asked why Roy Keane had slugged Jan Fjortoft in 1995.
"If he was an inch taller he'd be the best centre-half in Britain. His father is 6ft 2in - I'd check the milkman" - appraising Gary Neville's parentage in 1996.
"He probably started crying" - explaining why Jack Walker wouldn't let Alan Shearer go to the DevilBowl in 1996.
"Some sinister magic appeared to be at work" - after defeat to Borussia Dortmund in the 1997 Big Cup semi-final.
"He's a bully, a f*****g big-time Charlie" - an impromptu paean to his former midfield stalwart Paul Ince in 1998.
"When an Italian says it's pasta I check under the sauce to make sure" - the old charmer limbers up for a visit to Milan in 1999.
"Football. Bloody hell" - lost for words after the Treble victory in 1999.
"We were very unlucky to lose the toss twice and play into the sun" - putting a novel spin on embarrassing failure at the World Club Championship in 2000.
"I'm no' f*****g talking to you. Veron's a great f***ing player. Youse are all f***ing idiots" - building bridges with the press after criticism of Juan Veron in 2002.
"My greatest challenge was knocking Liverpool right off their f****n' perch, and you can print that" - responding to Alan Hansen's suggestion that regaining the title in 2002-03 would be his greatest challenge.
"Just f*****g patch him up" - Fergie's reputed instruction to the United physio after lamping a stray boot into David Beckham's face in 2003.
"It's getting tickly now. Squeaky-bum time, I call it" - tickling Arsenal's undercarriage in 2003.
"Real Madrid - they have a nice draw, they must have picked it themselves. The Spanish or Italian teams don't play each other, how do you think they work that out? They don't want us in the final, that's for sure, but I'm not listening" - after the Rowdies drew Real in Big Cup quarter-final in 2003. They lost.
"Arsenal played too many draws. The best team in England? That's always debatable" - evaluating Arsenal's 2003-04 Invincibles.
"Could I have two bullets?" - when asked 'If you had one bullet and Victoria Beckham and Arsene Wenger were in the room, what would you do?' in 2004.
"We're as good as Chelsea, no question" - after finishing eight points off the pace last season.
"It's scandalous that some people think I should retire. I have every right to work hard. I am going to continue working" - warming up for a few more years on the eve of his 20th anniversary.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
QUOTE OF THE DAY
"I was scared to death of him the first time I met him. I still am actually" - Paul Scholes pays tribute to Lord Ferg.
*********************
Friday, November 03, 2006
Thursday, November 02, 2006
spleen dating
a charming young spleen was feeling incomplete
what's the point being a spleen if you can't vent?
she knew her way around the organ pool
she was familiar with the leering liver
the macho heart
doof doof baby...
the 'you can call me small' intestine
word had it that epiglottis was in town
what did he ever do for me anyway ?!
but the hole (!)
did seem endless since they took A Pen Dix away
where can one find that 'special' colon?
perhaps a sincere lung or two..
you can't be fussy when you are only a gland
and surely not the most popular ductless being in the graveyard today
so the little spleen put her details up on the binternerdmix
so many choices, trying out gland sites first...
shocking!
they have positively nothing to do with the circulatory system
www.spleensonly.com, www.organsthatplease.com, www.nakedsphincter.com
in the end it had to be www.pelvicsphlancnicganglyon.com
imagine if the bowels got wind of it...
the shame
a few choice photos
dufficult to get when there are always you-know-whats about...
sort out a little profile
alias, age, hobbies, and a quick run down on what it's all about
how do you gently fudge the topic of being full of BILE!!!?
what's the point being a spleen if you can't vent?
she knew her way around the organ pool
she was familiar with the leering liver
the macho heart
doof doof baby...
the 'you can call me small' intestine
word had it that epiglottis was in town
what did he ever do for me anyway ?!
but the hole (!)
did seem endless since they took A Pen Dix away
where can one find that 'special' colon?
perhaps a sincere lung or two..
you can't be fussy when you are only a gland
and surely not the most popular ductless being in the graveyard today
so the little spleen put her details up on the binternerdmix
so many choices, trying out gland sites first...
shocking!
they have positively nothing to do with the circulatory system
www.spleensonly.com, www.organsthatplease.com, www.nakedsphincter.com
in the end it had to be www.pelvicsphlancnicganglyon.com
imagine if the bowels got wind of it...
the shame
a few choice photos
dufficult to get when there are always you-know-whats about...
sort out a little profile
alias, age, hobbies, and a quick run down on what it's all about
how do you gently fudge the topic of being full of BILE!!!?
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
the dissatisfaction hoax
In Reading the other day
i discovered the dissatisfaction hoax
a force so strong it bent people sidways
it changed their perspective beyond recognition...
Cymbeline Bloggs, 31, Jailkeeper, of Nutmeg, Hampshire says;
"watching the telly the other night, i learned that i were dissatisfied"
Alan Abitrary, 54, pig sticker, of Soapy Spittle, Old Hampshire says;
"my wife told me I was dissatisfied after the pot roast"
Denvis McCracking, 17, whiney git, of Layzee Eiens, Neu South Jutland states;
"I have never been more dissatisfied in my life, check out these spots"
Edoardo Strinzo, 24, llama farmer, of Saint Bollacks, Bolivarlandia says;
"If i could speak english, I would describe my self as dissatisfied"
Neufchatelle Mille Baise, 40, Seine Embankment Engineer of Noticeabilmente Superiore, LeSmug noted;
"fuck off, get out of my country with your dissatisfaction word"
Phuk ThaiBirdie, 15-28, Receptacle, of Huas A Him, Orientala says;
"my life bites tonally, dissatisfaction sounds great, please... anyone ?"
Kim Licenced 2 Ill, 141, despot, Pyongyang, Norf Korea-like booms;
"dissatisfaction can cause Roneriness, I'm so Roneree... "
Shake-n-bake Hashim al Qat, 58, Oppressor, Nebucanezzar, Yeoman notes;
"Your dissatisfaction results from denying the one true god, now go walk backwards with a yam up your arse around a big rock"
John 'prick' Howard, who gives a fuck ?, deceitful maladorous prick, who gives a fuck? White Australia weasels;
"I'm a horrid lying little bastard, Mummy called me her little 'ugly menstrual stain leech,' and on discovering my birth was disappointed to discover she had in fact not passed wind, the other kids at school shat in my lunchbox, having absolutely no redeeming features is how I fight off my dissatisfaction in the depths of the night"
Dull Bogan Slapper, 28, Single Mother at best, Suburbia West, Adelaidia moans;
"are you calling me a slut?"
i discovered the dissatisfaction hoax
a force so strong it bent people sidways
it changed their perspective beyond recognition...
Cymbeline Bloggs, 31, Jailkeeper, of Nutmeg, Hampshire says;
"watching the telly the other night, i learned that i were dissatisfied"
Alan Abitrary, 54, pig sticker, of Soapy Spittle, Old Hampshire says;
"my wife told me I was dissatisfied after the pot roast"
Denvis McCracking, 17, whiney git, of Layzee Eiens, Neu South Jutland states;
"I have never been more dissatisfied in my life, check out these spots"
Edoardo Strinzo, 24, llama farmer, of Saint Bollacks, Bolivarlandia says;
"If i could speak english, I would describe my self as dissatisfied"
Neufchatelle Mille Baise, 40, Seine Embankment Engineer of Noticeabilmente Superiore, LeSmug noted;
"fuck off, get out of my country with your dissatisfaction word"
Phuk ThaiBirdie, 15-28, Receptacle, of Huas A Him, Orientala says;
"my life bites tonally, dissatisfaction sounds great, please... anyone ?"
Kim Licenced 2 Ill, 141, despot, Pyongyang, Norf Korea-like booms;
"dissatisfaction can cause Roneriness, I'm so Roneree... "
Shake-n-bake Hashim al Qat, 58, Oppressor, Nebucanezzar, Yeoman notes;
"Your dissatisfaction results from denying the one true god, now go walk backwards with a yam up your arse around a big rock"
John 'prick' Howard, who gives a fuck ?, deceitful maladorous prick, who gives a fuck? White Australia weasels;
"I'm a horrid lying little bastard, Mummy called me her little 'ugly menstrual stain leech,' and on discovering my birth was disappointed to discover she had in fact not passed wind, the other kids at school shat in my lunchbox, having absolutely no redeeming features is how I fight off my dissatisfaction in the depths of the night"
Dull Bogan Slapper, 28, Single Mother at best, Suburbia West, Adelaidia moans;
"are you calling me a slut?"
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