Xym! I gotta tell you it's a gay 'tashe...

♬...I gotta tell you it's a gay 'tashe

I gotta tell you it's a gay 'tashe

It's a Gay 'tashe, gay 'tashe, gay 'tashe

Waaaaaah ☹ ♬

Right, now I finally know why everyone down The Whatacunt thinks I's gay,

It's the 'tashe.

We wuz sitting in the smoking area, when some drunken Strumpet collapsed onto the bench of our table: "Yer doansht mindsh if ai shitsh here, doesh ya mate?"

So, I get introduced, and it's become de-rigeuer to state sexuality: "This is my friend Xymon who isn't gay!"

And, naturally, we had to explain that everyone gets the impression I'm a rampant gayboy, and we don't know why, as everyone is too close to me & can't see why people think that.

And the trollied trollop raised a knowing finger. She knew exactly what it was.

The twiddle in the twiddly 'tashe.

So, experimental straightenings were attempted, stretching out the Machiavellian moustache unto horizontally.

And lo, apparently I suddenly became a macho hunk, awakening desires within heaving busoms and glueing gussets to gashes. or something.

So it looks like I'll be forever alone, eternally mistaken for a man mounter due to moustachioes of extreme bentness. 

'snot fair ☹

Born from an egg in a costume shop...

"A zoo in Japan has held an emergency drill to prepare for a disaster scenario in which animals manage to break free from enclosures."

Now, these Eastern Promises of a zoological nature preserve are oft on the... inaccurate side, to say the least!

Take then Chinafolk - they et all their aminals, and had to dress up dogs to pretend they were endangered aminals in an enclosed environment.

Such as this bear and lion:

So, now let's have a look at the believable baboon runs riot in... When Aminals Escape!

Now, I'm no David Attenborough, but I was a Fire Steward for Aviva, and in a Disaster Recover Situations, you train with real events. They set fires you had to put out. They had drills where you herded dumbass humans to safety.

Now, the image above strongly hints that all the Japanese training may come to naught, as I suspect they may not be interacting with legitimate primates who, following a cold tits style escape have gone all Congo. Beating your head with paddles and eating yer face off.

Unless, of course, the sauntering simian they train with is one Aware-Of-Vacuity. The now legendary Great Simian Sage, Equal Of Heaven!

Ooooh, perhaps this Zoo is Wu Hsing Shan, made up from the five fingers of Buddha and locked up by Ānanda with a stamp & ink kit from the craft shop! This drill is merely the Bodhisattva Kuan-Yin preparing to release Monkey for his Journey To The West.

In the enclosures alongside the convincing chimp, you'll find a man with a strap-on snout, a tonsured turtle with a necklace of skulls, and a horse with some fairy wings & scale armour.

Now all prepared for a toeless fall over beaver-like mammal on acid. A trippy Tarka (the 'otter).

or something.

Are you stupid? Are you a stupid fool? Look at you - you can't evendrive...

How come whenever I get to the bus stop, I miss my bus home by seconds every time?

10 mins early, 5 mins early, on time, 5 mins late, 10 mins late... it matters not when I arrive. As soon as I arrive at the bus stop, it is always just pulling away.

It's like they have CCTV nearby, and purposely arrange for buses to arrive early/late to coincide their departure as I arrive.

And WorstBus, obviously, has trained it's drivers to Take A Deep Interest In BHS When Pulling Out Or Waiting By The Crossing Whilst The Lights Are Red so they can't let anyone on who they've just deliberately closed the door on. Probably cackling maniacally when they decide to depart 5/10 mins early (or running 20/25 mins late).

And you can guarantee the next bus due every half hour will take 45 mins to arrive. If at all.

That's assuming the bus even stops, because the bus stop has been filled with Taxis. Or "Fucking Taxi Driving Cunts, don't they know it's a bloody bus stop? Refusing to twatting move and fucking pulling out and doing a u-turn on St Stephen's despite that there's no u-turns allowed? Fucking bastards" as the collective of drivers said as they discussed it after boarding on Castle Meadow on their way to Vulvan Road, the driver having lamented his lot to them as they switched drivers.

What is it with selfish cunts and bus stops? Bad enough when the 36, 37, 38 and 39 all turn up at the same time at a two bus bay, but worse when cuntish cockgobblers use St Stephen's as a bus stop.

And it's always MY stop!

Oh, I see the 38 coming round the corner. Well I never! Some felcher decides to pull up right by the opening if the shelter. Stick the hazards on and pop to the cashpoint. Oh, another, and some butterball waddles out and nips into Starbucks for takeaway latté and a big bag of muffnuts, swirls, Danish pastries, and a skinny blueberry muffin (as they're watching their weight. Watching it increase, if you ask me).

Oh, some cunt has pulled in, and waiting for his missus to come out of Argos & Iceland, with a mountain of baggage that takes forever to stack in the boot properly.

Bugger, the 37 is early, and in front of the 38.

If you're lucky, the 37 stops in the middle of the road, rather than decide to simply drive on to Castle Meadow. Honk honk honk, goes the bus at the stationary cars blocking it's loading bay...

...and waits...

Honk honk goes the traffic. Honk honk goes the bus. Fuck you, goes the taxi, person at cashpoint queue, and drivers waiting to pick up their partners.

...and eventually the driver gives up and remains blocking the road, opening it's doors to allow boarding. Traffic backing up to the roundabout. A LOT of people getting off, getting on, questioning the driver, getting off again, paying with fiddly change. Honkity honk honk from the driver stuck behind & right round the roundabout. Eventually, he's off! Yay! Now comes the 38...

And if I'm lucky, the 38 stops in the middle of the road, rather than simply driving on to Castle Meadow. Honk honk honk, goes the bus at the stationary cars still blocking the loading bay...

...and waits...

Honk honk goes the traffic. Honk honk goes the bus. Fuck you, goes the taxi, person at cashpoint queue, and drivers waiting to pick up their partners and feral brood now rampaging about the bus stop and fighting in the now empty main road.
...and eventually the driver gives up and remains blocking the road, opening it's doors to allow boarding. Traffic backing up to the roundabout. A LOT of people getting off, getting on, questioning the driver, getting off again, paying with fiddly change. Honkity honk honk from the driver stuck behind & right round the roundabout. Eventually, we're off home!

Fucking Twatbadtards parking in bus stops - hanging's too good for 'em I say!!

Commin' up, Commin' up, Commin' up, it's Dare...

WTF is wrong with them there Young Folk Of Today?

For days now, my FaceBookake feed has been wittering on about Necnomination. or Neknomination. or Necknomination. or something.

From what I could gather, it seems (a) there is no consistency in how this activity is spelt, (b) everyone's pissed off with it on their Facebook like them dumbass Zimbio quizzes and (c) no-one actually explains what it is.

Do they know what it is? It's just mentioned in vague terms of something really annoying. Necnomination... NECnomination... nominate a corpse for some award? Fittest worm food with an acceptable maggoty minge? The Brit Award Deathtime DeComposer Award? What?!?!

So I finally got intrigued enough to look it up.

It's Neck-Nomination. Neck a pint, do something stupid, then nominate someone to do the same.

So... basically your every weekend night out clubbing.

But with just one pint!

Oh, them inventive, reckless teens of today, with their rebellious innovative ways. Imagine - having a singularity of inebriation and doing something foolish.

No wonder them baby faced kiddies down The Whatacunt on a Saturday Night look up to us old fogies - after all, we neck pluralites of pints, copious quantitties of cocktails, and strange, esoteric beverages of a neon hue from goldfish bowls. Often doing something extremely foolish after.

"Ermagherd rite, ai, like, well downed a pint, yeah, then, yeah, ai like, y'know, did something. Swear down man, for realz. Seriously, like, it was, like, lolz, ya gits me? So, I, likes, nominates YOU to, like, neck a pint, yeah, then, like, do something. At the end of the day, yeah, like if yez cannae neck it, you're well meh. and a chubber spamhead. or sahmfink, yeah?"

Necnomination my arse!

(Please don't Neknominate my arse - I have no desire for a pint of Glitter Bomb enema before doing something stupid. Such as having a pint of Glitter Bomb enema in the first place. Or panning your poo for Goldschläger nuggets like Tinpans trying to raise funds to stop LaHood building a railroad through their ShantyTown by the creek by sieving their shit. Thar be gold in them thar manuretains)

Walkin' on the beaches, blowin' up the bitches...

Damn, them Swiss greybeards are at it again!

Not content with finally finding long-lost-at-sea Higg's Bo'sun, they've been tinkering about with them there black holes again.

Once more, they've been up at the CERN Abba's giant, and firing Benny and Björn's knackers at each other in the hope of reigniting their career. And a black hole.

A black hole to suck down Volkwagen Lupos, leaving naught but a 15ft Event Whore Eyes on a gravity well leading down into Infernis and a nudie Dr a Grant off of Jurassic Park.

So the police sensibly cordon it off and provide safety advice!

Like what safety advice can you possibly give? Please do not ignore the cordon, leap over the barrier and throw yourself down into ye bottomless black abyss you dumb fucks?

Safety advice my arse! "Ooooh look, a cordoned off 15ft hole in the road! Why, I simply must vault that barricade and plunge into oblivion as no-one has provided any sensible advice as what to do when facing a blocked off descent into doom!"

Now, them Australians, they give proper sensible safety advice. Such as don't play truant:

Ah, I remember bunking off (well, popping off to the nearby village in the free period before lunch to see who could eat a litre of ice-cream the fastest - me, obvs!). However, I don't recall the way to the ice-cream shop being seeded with landmines whilst we feasted on creamy goodness.

Then again, I don't recall my schoolmates being as hot and horny as these bronzed beauties. Apart from Helena Seddon, who wasn't horny but oh so very hot in 6th form. 

I remember a few students getting told off for urban surfing, and a car of friends got wiped out on a truancy drive, but I never encountered land mines on the school trip to Lyme Regis. Or was it Bognor Regis 

Well, no way am I camping out at a beach party on Waxham Waxhoff beach now! Oh, how I wished I'd listened to media diva spermbank Lady Die when she snuck out on secret pre-arranged media photoshoots on the evils of landmines in soup kitchens. or something,

But no, I ignored her pleas, and now it's National Sickie Day. I pity those who have a job, skiving off to Loo'stahhft and Great Y'ha-nthlei to get blown off in the sand dunes.

And then get blown up as they wander the sandy shore of explosivity.

One Eyed Jacque's hard...

Well, that was eventful!

A trip into ye olde past, a resurrection of halcyon days and inebriated goffick nights.

Ah, being stuck in a tight, cramped (crimped?) space with limited area for maximum flounce!

Ah, PROPER music!

Ah, being offered a goffbirds hairy hole and having your finger forcibly inserted!

Ah, hot goffs!

Ah, we look GOOD. And YOUNG! 

...apart from me barnet, which went from perfect Mohawk to collapsed mop in the space of 90 mins. Which sorta ruined my night. My hair! Ruined! Not that it matters - 'snot like I have a long line of ladies queueueueing up to molest me mowie (just men who want to garnish it with cockgel. Eww, no thank you very much!)

But... They're finishing at half-one! I fort it were free? No, Xym, too. But not. 'snow one furty.

Bolloxy buggerysides! After partay? Whatacunt?

We need more dance - Whatacunt Rawkus!! Then after party?

Burrits now 1:30, and Last Exit begins - a perfect end... hold up! They've been turneded off just before it gets to the fast bit! Noooooooooo!

So motorvate over to da 'cunt for bargain boogie, and a hoe-down with a hot ho to some metalized version of Boney M's Яa Яa Яasputiп (although she had a really hot mate, whom I suspect may be actual hair ruffler, and we got hair ruffler & purpleskirt confused. Unless hair ruffler is purpleskirt, and we misidentified the wrong Pretty!)

And then home coz I's too drunkened to go off 'out in the countryside' somewhere!

Top, top night!

Thoroughly enjoying pepper...

But not Pepper Potts. probably.

'twas not my day today.

Scabby scabsters five-finger discounters purloining my purchases resulting in much trekking about the city in search of elusive western heroes.

Barista bingo win - three on a row, but any erudite genitalmanly conduct of impressiveness was ruined by Starbucks spectres spilling my Gingybread latté all over me trews, and having to present myself to serving wenches all dampened about the trouserial area with caffeinated combats.

Jeremy Kyle Family At War on the omnibus. Great fat screeching fishwife with her obnoxious skinny shagpartner and brood of 8 feral offspring. All who have to have a pair of seats to each creature thing person and spread about the bus. Bellowing to each other as the brats rampage up and down and climb the poles 'accidentally' ringing the bells as the chimps run riot. Mother and son having a sweary fistfight at the back before having a kiss and make up, with Mother bragging about her pædo incest. 

Honestly, if I had my way, the parents would be thrown off the bus. Whilst moving. On a narrow bridge over a gorge. With weights attached in case they hit a river. And the kids sold off for bacon.

Today is NOT one of my better days!