Yer a lizard, 'arry...

Now, I've been keeping me head down recently, and it seems them there New World Order Tunnelling Tibetean Illuminati are off my backs!

Not a single assassination attempt in months.

However, last night I was watching Have I Got A Bit More Nudes For You with Jeremy Clarkson (Beat.Box), and Font Of Truth David Icke was mentioned.

It seems that the O(Para)lympics were constructed at the behest of our Reptilian Overlords in Royal Human Suits, and it was a Satanic ceremony so they could unleash the Ogdru Jahad, and other betentacled behemoths to keep them in Power.

And watch loads of real life Hentai demon tentacle porn on the lawn at Fuckingham Palace.

I thought it was odd that Prince Harry was introduced as Prince Henry - they obviously forgot to use his "Human" name, and used his Lepidosaurian title!

Harry in public, but it's Henry the Iguana shitting guano all over the Windsor's DFS sofa with his human suit off!

Now, I was at the Paralympic Athletics, and the Closing Ceremony, and I don't recall any Satanic Mass nor sacrificial virgins going on - let alone the arising of gargantuan Gods of general unpleasantness from under the 100m starting line. But then, with all them starter pistols all going off, I'm not surprised I missed the shootout with the imps, goblins, djinns and diverse other menacing pixiefolk invading the orifices of olympians with their rapey tentacles (or should that be tentasaviles?).

Although I do recall the screaming of billions of lost and tortured souls howling in eternal agony and torment - but that was probably just Coldplay caterwauling through their cacophony of compositions.

Hold on - I do remember lots of fire. And big black demonic birdy folk. And some diabolical Brazilian bits¹.

On the other hand, I don't recall Jess Ennis in a red latex catsuit ramming a dildo pitchfork right up Rhianna's arse.

But I might have missed that bit.

Xym's proposal for Team Russia
Paralympic Longjump Outfit
~ Brazil 2016 ~

¹ BUT NO BITS THAT WERE DIABIOLICALLY BRAZILLIAN'D FOR AERODYNAMIC PERFORMANCE. THAT'S WHERE YOU SHAVE YOUR MINGE TO COUNTER THE FRICTION FROM BUBBLY CHOCOLATE BARS. SOME OLYMPIC SPORT INVOLVING MARIANNE FAITHFUL. WORLD RECORD IN THE COCOA BEAN FLICKING FAPPAGE EVENT. OR SOME SUCH. PROBABLY.

Millions of Geldofs, wot shout O.M.G....

One of them there magic latern moving icons with that modern 'talkie' sound has just been released on Blu-Ray and DVD, and is the talk of the town.

Apparently. I must see "The King's Peach".

What care I for fruits of the monarchy? But harken - what be that aurality echoing through my sewer of a mindset? Is that Hugh Cornonthecobdownawell singing?

"Walking on the beaches, looking at the peaches!"

I thought this was all supposed to be about a bad stammer, not some majesterial cross-dressing royal lounging on blackpool beach in womens knickers with his arse in the air!

Comely, shapely, pretty princesses in thong style binkinini bottoms, all oiled up on hot sunny beaches, mayhap, or the firm bottom of Firm Bottom - but a boil-ridden blotchy behaired blokes bum bouncing out the screen in 3D? No thank you very much!

But maybe it's not posterior peaches the film's all about. Maybe it's one of them americanisms - you know like they call an arse a fanny, and us Engerlunders call a fishflange a fanny. Perhaps where bawdy brits call top-bollocks a nice pear (phwoar), them Americans call a pair of upper body pillows (with a well defined valley of kle'varj) a nice peach.

Ewww - The Kings Moobs! Hi-Def boobage jiggle as he runs in slo-mo down the beach. Watch out Pammy, here comes Colon Firth in a skimpy red mankini with his crown jewels all on display. *shudders*  Why can't we get Hell, I'll-bone-her-Carter in the lead role and rename it The Queens Hooters?

Or even The Queens H( . Y . )ters*.

No wonder the king can't speak - he's too busy gawking at the sight of Ms Burtons bodice free busoms! He's all Bernard Bresslaw with the "Cor! Phwoar! Umph! I- a- g- Crikey! 'ere, Sid..." as Her Vadgesty cures King Sid of his oral trouble by giving his tongue some dextrous exercise.

Tonguing the tomato sauce off the baked bean, for instance.

Well, I think it's a national disgrace. I don't care how many Oscar The Grouch awards it won. I don't want to see a film about using menstrual cunnilingus to cure the lack of over-the-shoulder-boulder-holders on feminine royal types sans blouse!

Unless it's Kate Middleclass. Or that pantless bridesmade everyone keeps banging on about.

Or were they just banging a panting, pantless bridesmaid? I can't remember, they were drunk and telling me also of paternal Turkish Delight circumcision practices, of which I have already made previous mention.

But my drunken informer is Greek, just like Prince Philip Schofield, so they should know!
  
* OR H( . )( . )TERS IF YOU'RE NOT A FAN OF KLE'VARJ. IN FACT, ANY FORM OF TEXTITULAR REPRESENTATION OF NORKAGE IS ACCEPTABLE.