Coiffure kleptomania!
Now, for some reason, The Xym is aborrent to The Pretties, yet a veritable cock magnet for The Gays.
Why can't it be Ladies after me instead? And if it has to be gays after me, then more skirtlifters, less shirtlifters, say I!
Anyhoo, as part of the new healthy regime and the *shudder* Exercise, I'm spending 30mins/1hr walking through The City at lunch.
So, I'm strolling up through the cemetary, up past WankYourMamma's, about to enter the mall when I'm accosted with a camp cry of "Ooooh! I'm gonna cut your hair off!"
I've heard of these Ed Gein types. Well, no-one's going to wear MY festive flamey folliclature as a burning bush beaver brazillian over their transgendered manginas!
Next thing, he'll be attaching my nipples to his belt, and wearing my acres of fat flesh as a XymSuit, whist sipping Starbucks from my skull as he rapes my dead mouth... with me own nob!
Unless he's using my ballball as a tea-cosy, with schlongskin covering the spout.
A fine sight to greet shoppers outside Chapelfield Mall, that is! Xym all dressed out like a butchered deer as a crazy catamite cavorts a cutaneous caper camouflaged (camelflanged?) in Epidermis Of Xym.
Still, that's Modern Art for you. Probably win that there Catherine Tate Modern Turnip Prize award.
