Oh man, lookit them spacemen glow...

Cor, love a duck guv'nor! Maybe it's because I'm a Londoner that I strike a light on the petrol soaked apples and pairs to defraud the insurance! Well, would you Adam and Eve it! According to Sky Nudes, Life On Earth Started on Mars!

Apparently, some jobbing builders were farting about on The Underground digging a new tube tunnel, when they discvered a monstrously deformed skull beneath Hobbs Lane (formerly Hobb's Lane, formerly ShitYerPantsScary Street).

Some archæological greybeards were then brought in to sift through the tunnel and take some toothbrushes to the bones (under the pretext of Preserving History, but really using some Colegate to brighten the bones so they fetch a fair penny on the museum market, rather than being dirty & yellow like that Sky Broadband blokes manky tooth).

And what did they uncover? Only an umpteen (5) million year old spaceship stuck in the strata!

And inside, tripoedal space monsters preserved in the suspended animatory thingumabobbins!

Of course, The Military reckoned it were all Oscar Preposterous propoganda to put the willies up the Brits, and before you can say "Mary loves dick!", the space monsters went on a psychic poultrygoose rampage. Hovering drills, levitating braces & bits, lifting the skirts of greybeards of the feminine variety. You know the kind of thing. 

Thankfully, one nerdy geek invented an Optic Encephalogram, allowing him to see into Pretties minds so men could finally understand women. And what did this reveal?

Dreams of PMT raging women rising up and taking over the world. Ganging up on all the men and castrating their cocks off!

Either that, or sharing Ian Dumbcum-Smith's fantasies of normal folk murdering all the cripples and cleansing the benefit system of fraudsters, I mean, purifying the gene-pool. "If you can breathe, you can work. If you refuse to work, I shall make sure you can't breathe by cutting off your air. That air is to benefit law-abiding, honest, hard working, taxpaying, christian families - why should their oxygen and exhalations be diverted into the skiving lungs of job-dodging deformities and their  feral brood of umpteen pickpicketing progeny? Your average, law-abiding, honest, hard working, taxpaying, christian family would be appalled at the atmospheric expenditure wasted on these so-called Disabled, who are forever wheezing away as they perform their Tae Kwon Do kickboxing on trampolines when out of sight of our Catch-A-Cripple-Cheating-Cameras we follow them around with."

But, for now, David Cameltoe is sating Dumbcum-Smith's blood lust by limiting The Wild Hunt to badgers.

Once he rids the NHS of benefit-claiming alleged sufferers of Brass Wind Instruments Entwined Around Female Immediate Relatives (Tuba Curl o'er Sis), then he can begin his Para-limping pogrom to purge the public purse of spastic scroungers milking The Cistern for all the cash they can scam out of it.

I say we arm the amputees with wheelchairs of iron, and catheters of their own piss to repel the insectoid alien genodice warriors that David Lizard-Overlord-From-Mars-In-A-Human-Suit Camenbert has planned as part of his Tory Clampdown on the physically disadvantaged workshy dolescum layabouts.

If the legacy of 2012 Pair O' Limp Pig Games has taught us anything, it's that...
...
...um...
...
...well, nothing really. Apart from allowing IDS and ATOS tear down any legacy, rights, benefits, respect or momentum that had been gained in the first place.

or something.

IDS gleefully lording it over his castigation and culling of cripples
whilst cackling maniacally in Londinium yesterday

Xym's list of exciting stuff (Sept '13)...

OK, I'm stripping me list down, coz it got too mahoossive. I'll probably add a rumour section on the end and replace it every month, rather than keep an ever growing unmanageable list of the same tone of unscheduled stuffs...

September

6th	The Chronicles Of Riddick: Riddick - in cinemas
12th	Bates Motel - series starts on UK TV, Universal Channel @ 9pm
12th	Dos Dedos Mis Amigos - remastered CD from Pop Will Eat Itself. Also includes a bonus disc of their unreleased 1996 album
13th	Visage - Band playing at Epic Studios
19th	The Chickens of Atlantis and other Foul and Filthy Fiends - new book by Robert Rankin
21st	Liqueur: A Tribute to The Cure - Band playing at Slimelight's 26th Birthday celebrations
27th	Marvel's Agents Of S.H.I.E.L.D. - series starts on UK TV, Channel 4, 8pm
30th	The Brightest Light - new album from The Mission also available in Limited Editions and Box Set

October

8th	American Horror Story: Asylum - released on Blu-Ray
9th	Sleepy Hollow - Ichabod Crane wakes up after being entombed for 250yrs… series starts on UK TV, Universal Channel 9pm
22nd	The Cult - Norwich UEA
25th	Paranormal Activity 5 - in cinemas
26th	Hazel O'Connor - Norwich WhatACunt
30th	Thor: The Dark World - in cinemas

Rest of 2013

01 Nov 2013	Assassins Creed IV - released for PS3, etc
07 Nov 2013	Discworld: Raising Steam - new book by Terry Pratchett
22 Nov 2013	Hunger Games 2: Catching Fire - in cinemas
29 Nov 2013	Stephen King's Carrie - remake in cinemas (Chloe Grace Mortez as Carrie, Julianne Moore as the mother)
30 Nov 2013	Blake's 7: The Liberator Chronicles #6 - 3 new audio dramas: Incentive, Jenna's Story, Blake's Story
25 Nov 2013	Bauhaus Remasters - Beggars Banquet remastering and reissuing 5-Box set comprising of: In The Flat Field / Mask / The Sky's Gone Out / Burning From The Inside / Singles collection
25 Nov 2013	Fields Of The Nephilim Remasters - Beggars Banquet remastering and reissuing 5-Box set including expanded editions of: Dawnrazor / The Nephilim / Elyzium / Earth Inferno / Singles & Mixes
25 Nov 2013	Gene Loves Jezabel Remasters - Beggars Banquet remastering and reissuing 5-Box set including expanded editions of: Promises / Immigrant / Discover / The House Of Dolls / Kiss Of Life
11 Dec 2013	The Damned - playing at Norwich UEA
13 Dec 2013	Hobbit #2: The Desolation Of Smaug - in cinemas
18 Dec 2013	Fields of the Nephilim/The Mission - playing at O2 Academy, Brixton

2014

31 Jan 2014	Blake's 7: Classic Audio Adventures #1 - New audio drama: Fractures
07 Feb 2014	Robocop - in cinemas
14 Mar 2014	Maleficent - in cinemas. Angelina Jolie cast as Maleficient .
04 Apr 2014	Captain America: The Winter Soldier - in cinemas
02 May 2014	The Amazing Spider-Man 2 - in cinemas
16 May 2014	Ninja Turtles - in cinemas. Megan Fox cast as April O'Neill. Oh dear…
23 May 2014	Dawn of the Planet of the Apes - in cinemas
16 May 2014	Godzilla - reboot in cinemas
29 Jun 2014	Transformers 4 - in cinemas
17 Jul 2014	X-Men: Days Of Future Past - in cinemas
01 Aug 2014	Guardians of the Galaxy - in cinemas
22 Aug 2014	Sin City 2: A Dame To Kill For - in cinemas
12 Sep 2014	Resident evil 6 - in cinemas
?? Sep 2014	Being Frank: The Chis Sievey Story - DVD//Blu-ray released. Bio-pic about Chris Sievey/Frank Sidebottom
21 Nov 2014	Hunger Games 3: Mockingjay pt 1 - in cinemas
?? Dec 2014	Hobbit #3: There And Back Again - in cinemas
?? ??? 2014	Evangelion 3.33: You Can [not] Redo - released on Blu-Ray
?? ??? 2014	Nightbreed: The Cabal Cut - released on Blu-Ray

2015

01 May 2015	Avengers 2 - in cinemas. Joss Whedon writer/director! Script now has Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch
06 Nov 2015	Ant-Man - in cinemas
20 Nov 2015	Hunger Games 3: Mockingjay pt 2 - in cinemas

I doan like Cricket-ah (oh noes!), Inconti-nent (yeah)...

♪ Ashes to ashes

spunk to spunky
we know Graeme Swann spanks monkey...
Strung out on t'Oval's grass
Leaving a yellow stain ♫

Well, we all know kickyball men are fudgepacking  footballers - out on the pitch, hugging each other, snogging each others faces off, ticking balls, fisting each other, and dry humping their mates silk shorted arse because they've kicked a small ball into a giant, mahoosive 24ft x 8ft wide space, before heading off to toss each other off in the showers, and bumming pickers up of soap.

But you would never expect it of sedate, genteel, gentlemanly conducted cricket.

But gone are the days of taking a silly mid on a sticky wicket out for a googly duck, before retiring for a cup of Earl Grey Tea, Cucumber Scones and Cream & Jam sandwiches.

Now it's all 50 Shades Of Earl Grey. Getting all jugged up on Scrumpy Jack before widdling on the green.

That's right. Footballers hauk their phlegm all over the field, and now pissed crickets piss on the Jerusalamic lawns of our Green And Pleasant Village Greens.

See, If I whip my nob out at WombleBum and urinate all over Annabel Croft - I'd be done for unwarranted golden showering of Inteceptor presenting babes. But as usual, it's one rule for taking a slash on frizzy haired ex-tennis players and Treasure-Hunt rip-off presenters¹.

"We did go out to the middle of the pitch, all the lads, drinking beers, singing a few songs and enjoying each other's company," Swann said."It was midnight, a private celebration in the middle of the pitch and the ground was dark."

Bet it wasn't as dark after their 'private celebration enjoying each other's company'. Probably all ashine with snail trails of penile ejaculate. or something.

Disgusting. No doubt we'll soon be hearing tales of spit-roast rapey umpires, teabagging cricketing groupies by dunking their bails into their mouths as they "tap the bat on the grass" before getting the runs. 

Grass on the wicket? Let's play cricket!
Piss on the lawn? Fuck that, my son!

¹ AND WHEN IT COMES TO ANNABEL CROFT AND ANNEKA RICE, I'M PRETTY SURE YOU KNOW WHAT WE'D WANT TO RIP OFF TO GET AT THEIR XXX-MARKS-THE-SPOT "TREASURE HUNT". BUT NOT WINCEY WILLIS. OR KENNETH KENDALL, FOR THAT MATTER. 

Deep within this skank and unappealing ho, lives Twerk...

Ever one for expanding one's lexiconal repertoire, a New Word has been created. One which causes much perplexment, as, due to only just being invented, is being banded about left, right, and centre, and nayone knows what the feck it means.

That word is Twerk. After much Columboesque investigatory techniques, I have finally arrived at a definition of Twerk:

TWERK: [activity: To Twerk, Twerking] The act of Booty Shakin' when one lacks the posterior mass required; shimmying what little ass one has whilst brushing the aforementioned buttocks into a George Michael/Beetlejuice hybrid's crotch as some form of lizard's tongue slithers out during a bout of gargantuan finger foam fappage of the flange in rhythm to rapey pop hits.

And to make that definition clear, here is the Twerk in action:

Now, a Beetlejuice thrice the age of Hannah Montanna doing Disney damsels up the derrierré whilst caterwauling out a violent, rapey, mysogenistic ballad isn't quite what I expect from the VMAs... which I presume from the Miley Cyrus erotica performance is an acronym for the Vag, Mouth & Anal awards.

So, she got no titties exceptin' fried eggies, and she got no ass.... well, that's not exactly true... as most of her ass fell out of her chickenskin short, short shorts, giving you troubling connections come Christmas/Thanksgiving...

Gaaaah! You don't want to be stuffing your bird, and have the image of fisting Miley Cyrus pop into yer head! Or worse, the image above becoming Miley with a prolapsed rectum!

Put you right off yer festive feastings that would! (and yes, I've just subliminally put festive fistings into your subconscious, so when you're elbow deep in Paxo, giblets and turkeyarse on Xmas morn, you'll get the image of Robbing Thicko fisting Hannah Montana whilst singing "Good Girl, I know you want it... Up the arse!" )

But buttcheeks spilling out of latex dunghampers isn't the worst. Oh no.

To compound the image, it would appear that plastic surgery has replaced Miley's tongue with some form of phallic protrusion! Obviously, in the image where she's being bummed by Beetlejuice, it's all 'on the flop' and looking like an elongated lapping, panting dog tongue. But witness the post-show flash, where her tongue todger is getting a bit of a semi going on:

WTF - she's literally got a cock in her mouth... and who's that passing by? Justin Trousersake and N'Sync reformed? Oh noes - her penile tongue is rising towards a proper lob-on!

Right, that's it! I'm stopping before she gets to full erectile mastication mouth-piece and adds a pearl necklace to her Red Carpet...

...and, as Always, by Red Carpet I probably mean menstrual fannypad, or something...

Here come de HotXymon (turn it in)...

Well I'll be vajazzled and bollock waxed! Everyone's (least) favourite short fat gothboy with preposterous hair and outlandish 'tashe apparently cut quite a dashing figure down The WhatACunt last night!

Quite popliar was he indeed!

Why, many a veritable vixen, fashionista fox and chavved up gayboys were fighting for one's attention this weekend!

It started off down The Playhouse, which was packed out by arty-farty-party types, where barbabes were most complimentary on various Xym adornments.

And then, when we were seated, the Pretty element of the couple in the vicinity kept on eyeing up The Xym whenever her man's focus was focussed elsewhere. So obvious it was, that even The Xym noticed it - and you know how blind The Xym is to that kind o' stuffs!

Then, on to The WhatAC... oh noes. We're stopping off at the loathed Marquee first. So Xym stood outside in a huff. Bad enough I has to goes there next weekend for the Asylum social event, but I wants to get to The WhatACunt. Boo!

But eventually we gets there, and Xym is showered with compliment upon compliment as regards his myriad of accoutréments. 

Blimey - The Xym is noticibly Turning Heads!

Well bugger me!

It seems The Boots With The Motion Sensitive Flashy Bits are a big draw. As is The 'tashe. Remarkably, so is the barnet and the silver glitter spray. Heck, the whole package presents proffers of admiration!

T'other week, I just got me cranial mop ruffled by a passing Pretty - this week, hit on galore!

I reckon I could have pulled that bird who was most admirous of me feathery dangler.

Of that gaggle of girlies impressed with me flashings.

Even the barbloke had to comment: "It's really hard to pull off a Look with glittery hair - you're just about the only person who can. Every week you put in a tremendous effort and look amazing!"

And The Xym is even arousing jealousy in repressed Chavboys, who find The Xym so fundamentally cool, they want to be just like The Xym. Alas, they fear to do so, for they'll get a duffing up off their Chacscum mates. They love that The Xym has the confidence (ha ha ha!) to tart up however he likes, and look so amazing... yet can't bring themselves to follow his fashion due to being brainwashed into conformism and having to fit in with their mates.

So there you have it.

I am THE Xym.

And I am fucking amazing.

I am the dog's bollocks, the donkey's dangler, the badger's nadgers and involuntary dampener of Pretties pants.

The Xym is a fucking LEGEND!

Not in-synch. No, not at all...

Well.

I thought I'd pop into MySpace, copy some of the old blog over.

Bad move.

Blogs - gorn. Kaput. Fucked off. Deleted. MySpace itself - twatted over and a jumble of arse.

Not only does the home page not fit on a screen, it scrolls sideways instead of up/down... so you can't see the stuff that flows off page below.

And it's all boxes. Boxes of crap. With some "mixing desk" to play "new music from "featured artists".

What happened to MySpace? Gone is the social network, and in with the... well, modern rappitty, poppity, blippetty-boppetty bollocks that passes for "music". Lots of adverts, and encouragement to "connect" with these aforementioned Featured Artists.

It's a fecking ponced up record store flogging pap to brats pretending to be MySpace!

Ooooh, if my Lady C wasn't so enamoured of The Trousersnake, I'd go over there and give Justin a right good punch in the tits, a boot in the knackersack, and a duffing up to end all duffings up.

What was he thinking?

Oh, pop music and impressionable underage/teen x-factor brainwashed "music" fans.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Stars in The Social Network (about Facebook), buys up MySpace, and fucks it right up the arse.

What.
A.
Cock!

(As in, what a nob. As in what a prick. As in what an arse. As in what a gobshite. NOT Oh my, WHAT an impressive body part!)

GIVE ME BACK MY LOST BLOGS, YOU CUNTWEASEL!

Grrrrrrrrr.

Who like deh mango, day like deh mango...

...especially of that man is Xym, and he go in deh opposite direction!

First, an apology for the lack of bloggocks this week. Why, I have been veritably buried in activity, leaving no time to blog.

Not even spare time in me lunch break, what with having to analyze 4598 rows of data, and having 10 spreadsheets on the go, with constant calls and interruptions to check figures, change the basis of figures, waaaaah - no time at all.

And then Evenings - what evenings? Getsing home all shattered and crashing out on the sofa. And that Goths vs Food event Wednesday eve put Xym into a carnivorial coma! A mammoth¹ burger with cheese, A mammoth burger without cheese, a humoungous chicken burger, a ginormous breaded chicken burger, A overlarge sausage, onion rings, eggs, bacon, chilli, beans.... and more!

But, I'm hopefully at the end of interminably interpreting terrorism payments, and have a bit of a break today! So yay! Back to boring you with tales of....

...Flash For Cash!
In the news this morning, apparently, you can pay wanton trollops to stand by the wayside or over bridges, and as you motorvate past, open up their PVC mac and bare their nuddy charms at you! This causes you to fixate on bared breasts and explicit minge, this distracting you into a hedge so you can write the car off on the insurance. Or something.

...Furry Lipsquid!
On the telly, a host of stereotypical keep-'em-in-the-kitchen mums bragging about how "I hardly every buy Fairy Liquid!". Of course you don't you dumbass cow - you have a dishwasher! You don't need Fairy Liquid. Nor do you need your daughter to stand by you, being trained in the craft of Women's Only Work. "Here you go, Dearest little Annabel - here's your birthday present. This is Fairy Liquid. Now get your bitchass back in that kitchen and what them fucking dishes you lazy slag."

...Mountain Climbing Cephalopods!
Ph'nglui mg'lw nafh Cthulhu R'yeh wgah'nagl fhtagn indeed! Squids putting on their hiking boots and conquering the inhospitable terrain.. before dying half way up when they suddenly remember they live in water, and being half way up a cliff face with oxygen running out due to altitudinal effects isn't condusive to aquatic denizens of the deep. Dumb fishes!

...Get Fresh With Rebellion!
Steppin' out! Forget Mel & Kim - we've got Interpretive Blake's 7 Detective Dance on the way! Dempsey and Soolin dancing all over the Liberator - oh wait, Soolin came later. Dempsey and Soolin dancing all over the Scorpio!

...Tufty's Twat Tickling Telly Temptation!
Dildo Squirrel! Now, I remember someone discussion the Dildo Squirrel being on some advert, and I got sent the link this morning. However, I can't recall the nature of the vibratory aspect of the wanking woman's point. Clitoral cereal stimulation for brekkie or some such. I think it may be along the lines of:
"Sluggish"
"Err, nope,what was the other one?"
"Bloated"
"Hmmm... Dildo! Get it!"
"Maybe aminal don't get human fannynipples coz they eat the fibre nature intended. Take the All-Flange five day challenge. Simply start your day with sea-fishies All-Flange, and the crusty cuntsters of natural wheatbran fibre will help you feel revitalized inside in just five days"
"Just five days?"
"Not THAT bit!"
"Which bit?"
"Clit Bit!"
Disgusting! 

There would be more I would impart, but no time left for today! So the past will have to lounge in the past, and hope to be blogging on current events soon...

..but not too soon, as I just got a message I need to revist them thousands of data cells. Grrrrr...

¹ MAMMOTH AS IN HUGE - NOT A WOOLLY MAMMOTH. THAT WOULD BE A MOST HAIRY BURGER....
"HEY VIC, DID YOU GET THAT JOB AS AREA MANAGER?"
"NO BOB, THEY WERE LOOKING FOR A HAIRIER MANAGER!"!
!BONGOS!!

Waffley verse of tiles...

...but not in verse.

It occurred to me that I may have got me sums wrong yesterday.

Visually, it works. However, the more I think about waffle calculation and how smugly great my measurances via ipad stylus, I realise they're not square at all - the square holes are twice the potato borderage!

So, I'm now creating pure squares, in both true equidistant lines, and true waffle dimensions.

This may take a while, so the blog may not be updated for a while, as this'll take up most of me lunch hours!

It's all lies, they're not even square...

Right,

This came up on Farcebook today.

Now, instantly I could see 40-odd squares, yet some clueless gormsters were putting waaay less than 36, which is the bloody minimum number of squares (like 1 waffle has 4 square holes, in the shape of a square, on a square waffle = 6 squares. 6 waffles = 6x6 = 36. What the fuck do they teach in schools these days?)

Anyhoo, Pedantic, insufferable, smug gits will try and act all clever like, and point out that the answer is Zero, as there are no actual squares due to deformation of potato, and therefore with no true straight lines nor 90° angles, there are no squares.

Such people need a punch in the tits for being general gobshites of smug dumbass retardery.

In the spirit of mathematical, geometrical analysis, let us presume that these waffles represent true squares. Mentally realign, and let's deduce the number of squares within.

A brief analysis in Starbucks gave me a total of 55 squares, but now I'm home, a quick stylus overlay on the iPad, and I gets at least 111. And that's without rectangles - not even rectangles in the "there are 4 sides so a rectangle is, essentially, a square" as justified by cretinous thickos.

111, Xym? How the buggery fuck do you work that out?

Yay for screen capture, for here I show you a build up of 111 squares. Apologies for lack of neatness - if I had time, I'd create a neat version in photoshop, with a nice little animatic flashing up each square.

But I gotta tart meself up for The WhatACunt tonight, so ner!

I certainly know the reason, you were stirrin' and you were seasonin'...

Didn't tell me you were teasin'

Your good soup's snatch revealin'

Right, as everyone knows, The Xym is stalking following several Celebrity Pretties on the shitter¹.

Namely Carol Phwoarderman, Claudia Wankleman, Betsy Boo etc in case they tweet pics of their bared bronzed busoms from the nudie beach when on holiday for Topless Tuesday.

Now, The Xym very rarely uses Shitter. Like Poogull+, it's one of them things you use once in a blue moon. But I got a message off've Lada Gaga about her new FartPlop app (which is apparently a big pile of wank, and totally incomparable to Björk's PædoBiophilia) so I went to download it.

But I couldn't find it in the app store, so I went to Shitter to find the link... and saw this from Betty Boo:
"BTW that isn't my hand holding the Soup For Sluts!! #sausagefingers #filthycuffs"

Eh, whut?

This warrants further investigation! Holding hands with a soupy slutty Betty Boo!! #FingerMySausage #filthycunt Oh My!

So, go back a few sheets, and lo and behold:

Soup for sluts! All three types of slut, according to the sidebar: Cheap sluts, Fast sluts and Easy sluts!

Well, that explains her top poptastic hit: ('til my last breath) I'll Be Doin' It To Mos Def!²
● Lucky ole Ford Prefect out of Hitch-Hiker's Guide To The Galaxy Chocolate having 
    Betty Boo "do It" to him till her last breath! And she does have quite a nithe
   pair of breaths, now that The Thym cums to think of it... 
● Jammy ole Brother Sam out of Dexter getting to check out her "wigwam,
    wigwam, wigwam, checking out her foof,  foof,  foof...". 
● Stockman in the forthcoming Teenage Mutant Ninja Turkles bangin' Boo's Booty for 
   24 hours.

Hey, Hippety-Hoppity DJ, I'm A Slag (Due To Soup That You're Makin')! 

Where are you Baby? In the kitchen, serving up slagsoup for sexcapade shennanigans on the sofa!

And on top of all that, it's instant rAmen soup! A clear advocation that Pastafarian wimmin should be all free lovin' hippy slags. or something.

Right, that's it. I'm off to Tesco to get some celebrity slut seducing soup to entice The Boomeister into mine boo-doir!

Boo's soup's boilin', can ya feel the heat?

Mmmm...Boo soup (if you know what I mean, and I'm pretty sure that you do³)

¹ NOT LITERALLY "ON THE SHITTER" AS IN PRETTIES PISSING, POO-ING AND PERIODING ON PORCELAIN POTTIES - I MEAN SHITTER AS IN BRIEF 140 CHARACTER MESSAGES #HASHPIPE.

² I OPEN UP THE PACKET
   AND SHAKE INTO A BOWL
   I'M TOPPING UP THE KETTLE
   THEN I PLUG IT IN TO T'WALL
   I KISS HER FOR THE FIRST TIME
   THANKS TO MY INSTANT SOUP
   SHE HAS ANOTHER SPOONFULL
   AND OFFERS HER POOP CHUTE
   SHE LIKES TO GO TO TESCOS
   BUT NEVER ON HER OWN
   I SAID I'LL DO YOU LATER
   AND GAVE HER SOME RAMEN
   BUT IT'S NOT LIKE THAT ON THE TELLY
   WHEN IT'S SOUP FOR SLUTS
   IT'S SOUP FOR SLU-SLU-UH-UH-UH-UH-SLUTS
   (SOOOOOOUP FOR SLUUUTS
    SOOOOOOUP FOR SLUUUTS
    OOOOO-EEEEEE-OOOOO) ETC

³ BOO'S BOX SOUP. A VAGITARIAN STARTER. CUNNILINGUAL CONSOMMÉ. GASHPACHO SOUP WITH A HINT OF TUNA...
...BUT NOT CREAM OF TOMATO. MENSTRUAL MINESTRONE WITH A DASH OF JIZZ ISN'T REALLY MY TWO GIRLS ONE CUP-O'-SOUP. OR SOMETHING...

U.KLF.I.P. (a-ha ha ha) all bound for Bongo-Bongo Land...

Apparently, that there MEP Orlando Bloom is in big trub with Nigel Forage.

Legoland of the Woodland Realm
Still has the elven ears, but looking old like Victor Meldrew.

Seems that he's been dragging his knuckles through the dirt and raising them in anger against Women Drivers, Gays, Drink Thieves, using Brothels and not having his fridge cleaned properly by his wife.

But most heinous of all ... he said we should not give aid to Bongo Bongo Land! 

Say whaaaaat?!?!

Outrageous! Disgusting! Offensive!

Bongo Bongo Land indeed. He's been spending too much time with Vladamir Poo-Tin and his Яussian Vodka fuelled Bunga Bunga parties, and got all confuseded.

Everyone knows it's actually Um Bongo Land!

Oooh, whilst I'm poncing off down drink based mammary lane, how's about some Rita Ora being all hot right now and needing a nice, cool, carton of beverage - how we do (party)? Wit' sum orange juice! yeahmon, or sumt'in.

The Access Of Evil...

A friend of mine got their diploma today, so a big congratulations and well done to them. I'd giver her the ole 2 thumbs up.. but that would be a quite inappropriate action to perform just for passing wind an examination. 

Unless it's a gynæcology examination, and then it would have been part of the actual examination. probably (and not in relation to coffee stains, right?).

However... I say got their diploma... they put a picture up of them holdings it up, all proud like.

But the more I looked at it, the more puzzled I got. In order to protect the innocent, the names has been removeded, rotated from being held at the jaunty angle of 4.35°, cropped to the titlature of the Diplomatical document, and grubby thumbs photoshopped out. To whit;

Now, I'm no grammar Nazi, as you can tell by one's constant inventorial use of language (removeded, indeed!), but that's no moon Diploma.

It clearly says "Access to Higher Education Diploma". Not "Dis be da Diploma In Sumt'in or other, yehmon". In other words, this is a document you present at the college, which gives to access to go in and pick up your H.E.D.

Ah! This explains that Robin Williams ballad:

"Singin' in the classes

Music for your masses

Give no H.E.D.

No backstage passes

Have a proper giggle

I'll be quite polite

But watch us rock the mic

Watch us wreck the mic

Watch us wreck the mic

Psych!"

It seems to me, the Health Practioner has won an award. They are then given this permission slip. This grants them access to their Higher Education Diploma in Science. Presumably, Dr Midwitch now needs to make use of that access, pick up their H.E.D., and give it to bouncers in Nightclubs to get backstage passes for Fearless Vampire Killers.

All that hard work studying Sciencey stuff just to get backstage to try and cop off with a boyband. 

Mind you, if I had that same qualification, I would giving H.E.D. to get backstage on Discovery's Mythbusters show and cop off with that Kari Byron.

Although Kari would be more Head Elevated Diplodocus than Higher Education Diploma, if you know what I mean (and I'm sure that you do. or probably not).

or something.

Myyyyyy milkshake brings all the gays to the yard...

and they're, like, they're better than moobs

Damn right, they're better than moobs,

I can give you a lend of 'em, but I'd have to charge you are reasonable hire rates

Well, that's a headline you don't see often on front page of Sky News

Nurse Rents Out Her Breasts To Gay Parents

What? Renting out busoms to the queen that doesn't wear the trousers but the miniskirt, orange tan and too-tight button popping blouse?

Are these detachable breasts she can just hand over? Or being a nurse, does she just pop into surgery for 5 mins, have a temporary masectomy, and hand over her bazookas for gay use for a period of time, before getting them back to be stitched back on again?

Of course, further investigation of the news story is at odds with such tabloid sensationalism. The actual advert for this woman's services reads as follows:
"I am a young mother in perfect health, a trained nurse of 29, and I am renting my breasts to milk-feed infants."

So, just a standard wetnurse offering her wetnursing services as a wetnurse to couples in need of a wetnurse for a baby to dine upon mammarial milkings then.

Damn, I could have done with hiring a pair of comedy breasts for this Saturdays quaffing session.

"Oh, Melchy, you really are a beginner -- you're not even wearing a pair of comedy breasts"
"Au Contrairé, Bl'adder. I rented these from some French trollop via the Sky News homophobic panic page"

We could take in an old Chris Reeves movie...

Well,

Superman fell off a horse and broke his neck due to equestian Kryptonite hoof-based topplement resulting in unexpected violent decollagé decoupagé dressagé dismount.

And so he became an avid campaigner for Stem Cell Research, so a cure could be found for his paralysis.

So the greybeards went to work.

And what did they come up with? A cure for cancer? Regenerative limbs? A universal panacea to cure all ills thanks to tampering with spinal fluid extractions?

As if.

They went and invented test tube burgers instead!

Because petri-dishes are sort-of burger shaped, they planted some stem-cells in some biological agent in the bottom. Hey Presto! Burger shaped biomeat!

Doesn't help Christopher Reeves though. Mainly because he's dead. But if he had't died before stem-cell research, he'd be turning in his grave at the thought of his dream of being able to walk again was turned into a M^cMutant meat meal. 

Mind you, if he was turning in his grave, them self-same greybeards would have him on a spit roast rotisserie. Turning in his grave? Turning in his own gravy, stewing in his own juices, more like!

Test tube burgers indeed! I've seen these B-Movie SyFy type filums. Bio-engineered stuffs rising up, breaking out of the lab, growing to monstrous size and going on the rampage!

It's Jurassic Pork! Burger King John Hammond cloning M^cBig M^cMacs, keeping the Jurassic era temperature high with volcanoes fuelled with M^cHot M^cApple M^cPie filling. Suddenly,M^cTea-Rextscy bursts out it's bun, savaging scientists with it's test tube teeth, before chasing Ham Neill before equally mutated Martin "The F1y" Brundle joins in the catastrophial carnage!

Well, I for one, refuse to bow to our DNA-cloned mutant meat overlords! Bad enough having to kowtow to illuminati royal lizards in human suits, let alone them being overthrown by mad scientists of the Hester Bloomin' Thrall forelock tugging sycophants of the meaty mutants.

or something.

Cisterns Of Mercy...

It's just a pop quiz

We do sometimes

A pop quiz

Sometimes

Xym ends up writing

Every time

Pinki writes one too

But there's...

(No no no) No time to listen

(No no no) No time to sit and scribe

(No no no) Which question are we on?

(No no no) No time to write

Sometimes when the round's complex

You have to write in convolutions

Just do what Kelvin says

(whose rules are hard to understand)

It's not just writing band and artists

It's chart positions, connections

What did you expect for Covers

Original Artists as well! 

It's...

(No no no) No time to listen

(No no no) No time to sit and scribe

(No no no) Fill out that one we missed!

(No no no) No time to write

Every clip is much to short

Every answer's much too long

Sometimes I must jump back

And amend that one what's wrong

And I have...

Every clip is much to short

Everyone shouts out at once

Sometime's I still can't hear

Diff'rent answers blend as one 

And I have...

(No no no) No time for marking

(No no no) No time to add up scores

(No no no) They've marked us wrong again!

(No no no) No time to write

Prefer Alice...

Arse.

Being all miserable, and fed up, I decided to withdraw (f'narr f'narr) from Social Interaction once more.

Yah, boo, sucks to you, I ain't goin' out no more. I'm saying at home sulkin'.

So, contact Local Sister #1 and advise I'm not off to The WhatACunt. 
"But why, Xym, why?"
Coz I'm all depressive and just wanna be left alonesies. Besides, you has your Man, your new Bezzie and The Limpet¹ to keep ye company. You don't need The Xym dragging you down and ruinin' the atmos. No Russ Abbott be The Xym at the present jucture.

Right. One down. Better tell Local Sister #2 I'm not outs next week either. 

Oh, buggery fucksticks. One had forgotteneded.

She made plans around me definately going out. Rescheduling holidays because of the definitive nature of my presence at ShitPloppin'.

Arse, arse, arsey arsebiscuits. I has no choice now. I have to go out, and I DOAN WANNA!

Oh well, so much of me retreating from Society again, then!

Oh pissflapping cockcheesestraws. Now I have MORE events to get out of.

Before The WhatACunt, there's a gathering of acquaintances down The Goats and Whore's Ears. There's also a conflicting gathering of acquaintances for a BBQ.

Feck it - think I'll just meet Local Sister #2 down t'pub.

After that, I can hopefully wallow in me own misery to me hearts content without letting anyone down. Yes, Alice DeeJay, Xim is better off alone.

¹ HOMOSEXUAL INTERNAL MINGE. GAY GASH INSIDES. CHILDISH, STROPPY DJ WITH DELUSIONS OF GRANDEUR BECAUSE HE'S A DJ WHO FOLLOWS LOCAL SISTER #1 EVERYWHERE LIKE A CREEPY STALKER, FOREVER ROLLING A ROLLIE, AND JUST HOVERING SLIGHTLY BEHIND AND TO THE LEFT OF LOCAL SISTER #1 (AS YOU LOOK AT HER). NEVER SPEAKING, JUST LOITERING, READY TO THROW ANOTHER HISSY FIT IF SOMEONE CRACKS A JOKE, OR HAS HIS PHONE READY TO BLOCK PEOPLE IF HE HAS TO APOLOGIZE TO WOMEN.