Ve haff vays of makink Xym talk...

Nein! du hast mich gefragt, und ich hab nichts gesagt!

Let's get this crystal clear, ok.

The Xym does NOT talk to people he doesn't know.

He is EXTREMELY shy, and suffers from severe xenophobia (which is fear of Space Monsters of the xenomorph persuasion, or just strangers in general. or something).

Anyhoo, however well intentioned, it is not becoming to stress out  The Xym by trying to force him to engage in converse with people of unknown acquaintance - infinitely more so if those people you try and make Xym talk to are female, and even worse if they're Pretties.

Try and set up a date for Xym - he will suddenly be ill. Tell him to go and talk at people - he will smile, agree, and walk towards the target and continue past to hide in the toilets.

Grab him, and demand he engage girls in converse, and after fleeing to a safe place of refuge you pursue him with insistent demands to interact with Pretties, you won't see Xym for the rest of the night, for he will have fled for the safety of home, where there is no pressure to interface with unfamiliar peoples.

Xym only talks to people within his social circle. If outsiders are brought along, then The Xym may grow confident enough to engage with them. But what The Xym does NOT do is approach people, especially on dancefloors where you have to bellow at folk to be heard.

So, if you're expecting The Xym to chat Pretties up, you're all outta luck, coz it ain't gonna happen.

Mouth, mouth, let it flow out...

These are the things Xym could do without

saying

When yobs are threatening Xym

He plows on

In violent times, Xym should learn some voice control
It's black and white for yobs who really ought to know (better)
They mock Xym's voice, and take him for an Eton boy!¹
Wave them goodbye², Xym shouldn't have to stand for this.

Xym really shouldn't...

Speak! Speak!

Keep it discreet!

Xym's gob runs on like Usain Bolt's feet!

Shut up!

He's listening to you!

So shut up!

He picked a fight, and in return Xym rang verbal rings
This wound yobs up, but still Xym lived to tell the tale
The ignoramus tells the tale!

Xym! Xym! Ignorant Xym!

So said the gobshite defending his Quim!

Come on!

As if Xym's a threat!

Come on!

And when Xym's taken down his guard,

He'll attack from behind - because he thinks he's fookin' hard!

As if I broke his 'tarded heart!

'tashe! 'tashe!

Frothing the gash!

This must be why Xym is singled out!

In case

their missus runs off with Xym

as if!

Yes, another altercation down The Whatacunt at ShitPloppin' from a yobbo spoiling for a fight. And in record time too - not even 15 mins in and a laughable loon is trying to berate The Xym for their retardery!

Seems passing on the opposite side of the corridor creates such a breeze, it swayed him a bit when using the cash machine (Wot a retard! Fancy coming out to the Whatacunt with no cash in the first place!).

Later, on a return passing - you know when you can sense what's going to happen? Gobshite is deliberately blocking the door - and you just know as you pass by he's going to deliberately step back. And he did - spilling my sticky drink all over me hand and sleeve. But did I complain? Nah - just met up with other.

And then, he went all ninja cat.

We're sat in the smoking area at the far end. Suddenly - he's standing the door. Out of the corner of they eye, you see him step, step, freeze. Look around shiftily. Creepy, creepy. Eventually mouthing off something. Much of the demand "look at me! Look at me! Ya fookin' ignoramus! Oi! ya bastid!".

I tried to keep quiet, but I kept conversing with my companion... unfortunately bewailing my lot of having cockends badger me, t which he took further exception, concluding with that he "wouldn't fuck off unless you make me, and I'll fookin' have ya, ya ignorant fucker. Come on then!"

To which we pointed out we'd just have him ejected. So we just pointed him out to the doorman, and went back in, leaving him having a tantrum about how Xym should be watched.

Yeah. Right.

Laters, we're upstairs, when the creep sidles up again and starts up again with his yelling. Luckily, his missus was there and pushed him away. Then, he went into full rant mode about me doing something with his missus and how he'd take me on again. Muscling forward with outstretched arms in "come on hit me" mode. Then his missus stepped in again and dragged him off kicking and screaming like a petulant child.

Ah. THAT seems to be the problem. His missus wasn't an ex of mine. I hadn't spoken to her. I hadn't ogled her up, or even performed any comedic lecherous finger wriggling³. And yet he's paranoid about me doing something with her!

I suspect it's the 'tashe - men get all jealous that their women will all run off with me because of the melodramatic moustache of twiddly Victorian villany. or something.

Still, makes a change from obsessed gayboys pestering me coz I won't bum 'em, I guess!

¹ HA HA HA! THE KNUCKLE DRAGGING NEANDERTHAL'S VERSION OF STARTING A FIGHT WAS TO REFUTE XYMS DISMISSAL OF HIS POSTURING BY REPEATING EVERYTHING XYM SAID IN A POSH VOICE. BOTH MANCS QUERIED WHY HE WAS SPEAKING A NORTHERN ACCENT IN A POSHO FASHION - IT REPLIED...
"THAT'S HOW YOU SPEAK, THAT IS!"
OH MY WORD! SOMEONE'S BEEN WATCHING HISTORY TODAY ON NEWMAN AND BADDIEL! ABOUT 15 YEARS TOO LATE...

² *AHEM* SEEMS WHEN XYM THOUGHT HE SAID "JUST WALK AWAY. GO AWAY. JUST... GO AWAY.", ACCORDING TO ONE PRESENT, THEY HEARD IT COME OUT AS "OH, JUST FUCK OFF, YA COCK. FUCK OFF. JUST... FUCK OFF." SEEMS SOME PEOPLE NEED THEIR EARS WAXING OUT!

³ SOMETHING I HAVEN'T DONE IN A LOOOONG TIME! I HAVEN'T DONE THE RICK MAYALL COMEDY PERVE THING FOR AGES - THINK I SHALL HAVE TO SAVE IT UP AND BRING IT OUT WITH THE BIG GUNS FOR FEARME BOTTOM'S POST WEDDING WEEKEND AT RESISTANZ!

She Loathes me, she Loves me not...

Wise up Xymon, Post Ya Blog...

But I can't post today's blog!

Why ever not, I hear thee cry?

Well, it was all to do with repetitious omens and portents of location based synchronicity, and what it all meant.

And then, I thought - hold up, check something else out, just in case.

And well bugger me backwards if that fate driven coincidence didn't lead in the same direction too!

However, that final linkage puts The Xym in a somewhat awkward position, for after typing it all up then discovering that final coincidence, it dawned on The Xym that it could creep out Certain Pretties (or a singularity of) that The Xym (may, or may not) be enamoured of!

But Xym, no-one reads your blog! Post it up anyways for a laugh!
Ah, but, what if, by some long shot, a particular Pretty matching that coincidence catches sight of it, and thinks The Xym is some stalkerescent pervertor desperately trying to find a loose excuse to indicate that Fate wants the Pretty & Xym to be together?
Ha, Xym! Like that's'll make any difference! You don't need your Blog to creep Pretties out! Look at yerself, you great fat lecherous oaf!
But, surely anyone with an ounce of nounce can see what a top bloke I am, and can recognise the comedy lechment for what is it?
Oh, you poor deluded fool Xym! Peoples don't have sense's of humour - it's all "first impressions" and you're a short, fat, sad ugly troll perving at Pretties!
But... my blog is OTT comedy elaborations of true events, made ludicrous by the very nature of their preposterousness! Surely no-one could take this overliterate proliferation of unnecessary prose seriously and judge The Xym based on the content contained within?
Of course they do! Why do you think hardly anyone accepts your Friend Requests on The Farcebook and The Shitter? Because they check you out and read the tripe you type on yer blog first... then run a mile from the wierdo obsessed with Space Monsters, Pretties and forever bewailing his lot!
But surely, they can see it's all a bit of ribald japery? It shows that The Xym has what is knows as one of them there GSOH that them Pretties keep harping on about being essential in one of them Pardners (albeit with the caveat of also being a stud muffin six-packed hunk who's a "bit of a bad boy" and a right bastard so they've got something to moan about when they go on Jeremy Kyle for lie detectors when their bad boy BF cheats on them because he's a "bit of a bad boy" and a right bastard.. Women, eh! How fickle they are!!).
Yeah, so you have a SOH (perhaps not a GSOH), and be a Gentleman who knows where ladies bits are... but this blog puts The Fear into the womens... besides, they all think you're gay anyway!
Eh, whut?!?!?
Well what do you expect, poncing about in bells and flags with feathers in yer ear, you great poof!
Oi! I'll have you know an actual individual, I am! Unique - that's me! There's only one Xym, and no-one else remotely similar!
Except Grendel, Quasimodo, The Heffalump man,...
Hey! Turn it in!
...A vast troll of lard, a corpulent bloated balloon of blubber, a mis-shapen disfigured shambling freak of nature, a deformed denizen of...
Enough already!
Why d'ya think its only blokes wot try and chat you up down The WhatACunt, despite your less than subtle ogling up of beautiful babes? And you always wear purple at work!
Ha - not today!
That's only 'coz it's Gay Lezza Bi-Tranny Day at work¹, and they've adopted purple² as the color of choice to denote homos, and you don't want them babes on Totty Avenue thinking you're a right shirtlifter... but it's too late for that!

Well, bugger me! NO! Scrap that! Bad choice of words, there!

Anyhoo - that's why there be no blog - coz the conundrum of coincidence ended up with the fickle fisting of fate pointing at a particular Pretty who may (or, more in reality, may not) be enamored of The Xym, and the resultant shyness would cause The Xym to be unable to face said Pretty for fear of embarassment, and, as ever, having to hide or flee from The Whatacunt. Not that Pretties down The WhatACunt are involved in these shennanigans (although they might be. Possibly. Or not. As the case may be).

But if you REALLY want to know what the blog contained, what the chain of coincidences were, and which Pretty it led to, it's all here below... apart from the naming of the Pretty, which may (or may not) be deduced from the repeated occurance of the coincidental element (said coincidental element can be construed from the title of this blog... and if you can figure that rather tenuous link out, you'll impress me no end! The Big Hint is more the first, rather than the second... which will give you the title of the X-cyphered blog below! Ah, once you get that play on an 80s classic pop hit...).

So here is that blog, edited down ever so slightly to avoid embarassment:

Xxxxx, Xxxxx, Xxx xx xxx xxx(x)...

Xxxxxxx'x xxxxxx xx xxxx xx xxxxxxxxx.

Xx xxxxxxx xx xxxx xxxxxxx xx Xxx Xxxxxxx

Xxx, xxxxxxx xxx Xxxx Xxx Xx Xxxxxxx xxx Xxxxxx, xx xxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxx xxxxx, xxx xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxx (xxx xxx xxxxxx xxxx xx Xxxxxxxxx & Xxxxxxxxxx xxxxx).

Xxxxx xxx Xxxxxx xxx, xxx xx xxxxxxx xxx xxxxxxx xxxxxx Xxxxx xxxxxxx, xx' xx xx xx Xxxxx.

Xxxxx... xxx, xxx xxxx Xxxxx xxxx Xxxxxx Xxxxx? Xxxxx xxxx xxxxx, xxxx xxxxxxx xxxxx xx, xxx xx'x... xxxxxxxx.

Xxxxxx, xx'x xxxx xxxxxx xxx xxxx xxx, xxx xxxxx xx xx Xxxxxxxx xx xxxxx xxx.

Xxx xxxx xxx xxxx xxx xxx xx Xxxxxx xx xxx xxxx xxxx.

Xxx!

Xxxxxx, xxxx xxxx xx xxxx, xxx xxxxxx xxx xxx xxxx: "Xxxx, X xxx xx Xxxxx", "Xx, xxx Xxxxx, xx!"

Xxxx'xx X xxxxxx? Xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxx, xx xxxxxxxx'x xxxxxxx xxxxx Xxxxx! XXX xx xx x xxxx xx xxxxxxxx xxx xx x xxxxxx?

Xxx xxxx, xx xxxx, xx'x xxxxxxxxx xxx xxxx xxx xxxx! Xxx Xxxxx xx Xxxxx xx xxxxxxx xx xxxx xx xxxxxxxx xxxxxx xx xxxxx xxx Xxxxxxx Xxxxx!

Xxxx, x xxx xxxx xxxxx xxxxxxx xxxx x xxxx xxxxxx xxxx. Xx, xx xxxx xx xxx x xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxx - xxx-xxxx Xxxxxx, xxx Xxxxxxx xxxx.

Xxx xx Xxx Xxxxxxx!

Xxxxx xxxx - xxxx Xxxxx. Xxxx X Xxx Xxxxx Xxx Xxx... xxxxx'x Xxxxx.

Xxxx xxxxxxx - xxxxxx xxx xx Xxxxx.

Xxxxxxxx - xxxx xxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxxxx xxx xxxxxxx xx Xxxxx.

Xxxxx - xxxx, xxxxx, xxx xxxxxxxxxx!

Xxxx xxxxxxxxx.. xxx xxxxx... XXXX XXXXXX XXXXX!

Xxxx'x xx xxxxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx Xxxxx!

Full, unedited version is actually on my Blog, but only in Draft mode, so I may delete this one some day and post the draft one. Or I may not. I may even have both up for comparitive porpoises. Who can say?

¹ AND BEING DIVERSITY-AWARE AND ALL PC AND THAT, TODAY'S LUNCH MENU IS MACARONI MY CAMP PONY'S [NOB] CHEESE AND GARLIC GAY LICK BREAD...
    ...GAY LICK BREAD? GÆLIC BREAD?!?!?! AYE, IT'S THE FUTURE, SO IT IS, BEGORRAH, ALL PHOENIX LEPRECHAUN NIGHTS AND WHERE'S ME GOLD YA BASTARD? PÓG MO THÓIN AND BOMB THE ENGLISH QUEEN WITH MA LUCKY FOUR LEAVED CLOVER BUTTER. OR IS IT CLOVER MARGE... OR CREAM? OR EVEN CLOVER BUTTERCREAM? WELL, IT IS GAYDAY, SO MORE LIKE BUTTOCK-CREAM FOR LUBRICATIONAL EASE OF ENTRY, IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN (AND I'M SURE THAT YOU DO, AND IF YOU DON'T, WELL, OBVIOUSLY I MEANT BUTTOCK CREAM TO BUM AN ENGLISH QUEEN. OR SOMETHING).

² AND NAYONE'S SMASHING MY PURPLE BACK DOORS IN! NOT EVEN RAPEY ROHYPNOLLING TAXI DRIVERS.