Pissmidgets in the employ of Kwik Fit shitters!
Unfair!
Now I have no travelage due to the sawing off of me tailpipe.
Hiring Gimliesque characters to lie in wait beneath vehicular carriages and apply their mithril axes as you
drive off is somewhat unfair to the motorist!
Life. Don't talk to me about life...
Tuesday, 30 September 2008
Monday, 29 September 2008
It’s murder Sam, I know it...
Cork yer bum folks, for now there is truly a reason why the rozzers are called The Filth.
Forensics have come a long way. Once, it used to be misread as foreskin, and now it's the scourge of the Chav, with munter obsessed chavboys being presented with them all-important DNA results!
Of course, with instant identification though a sample of the wind you just passed, it was only a matter of time before some Parkie jobsworth has a brainwave.
Dogs befouling the paths and parks, leaving their eggs all over the place to be stepped in or slipped on because the chavvy scum ain't gonna pick up some doctor in the park, are they!
And so, The Bottom Inspectors have arisen from the pages of Viz like Martin Whorekit talking away when he don't know what to say (but says it anyway).
Yes, 'they' have decided there should be a DNA doggie database, so that when senior citizens stamp on shit, they take their shoe to the Constabulary, who will run the fecal forensics and match the DNA it to the offending canine!
And you thought Jeremy Vyle could sink no lower!
This week: I believe your dog shit in my paddling pool and is the father of our baby, and I don't trust her.
Coming up in part 2 - those all-important lie detector tests that are highly inaccurate which we claim is 90% accurate and that means they's NEVER wrong!).
DNA diagnosis on doggie doo-doo indeed! It's The War Against Terror* gone mad!!
* ISN'T IT ODD THAT THEY NEVER ABBRIEVIATE IT ON THE NEWS? IT'S ALWAYS THE LONG WINDED, DRAWN OUT VERSION. "COMING UP ON GMTV, FIONA PHILLIPS WILL BE TALKING ABOUT GEORGE BUSH AND THE WAR AGAINST TERROR WITH KATE GARRAWAY". WHAT'S WRONG WITH SIMPLY SAYING "FIONA PHILLIPS WILL BE TALKING ABOUT BUSH AND TWAT WITH KATE GARRAWAY"?
I CAN'T SEE WHAT THE PROBLEM IS...
Forensics have come a long way. Once, it used to be misread as foreskin, and now it's the scourge of the Chav, with munter obsessed chavboys being presented with them all-important DNA results!
Of course, with instant identification though a sample of the wind you just passed, it was only a matter of time before some Parkie jobsworth has a brainwave.
Dogs befouling the paths and parks, leaving their eggs all over the place to be stepped in or slipped on because the chavvy scum ain't gonna pick up some doctor in the park, are they!
And so, The Bottom Inspectors have arisen from the pages of Viz like Martin Whorekit talking away when he don't know what to say (but says it anyway).
Yes, 'they' have decided there should be a DNA doggie database, so that when senior citizens stamp on shit, they take their shoe to the Constabulary, who will run the fecal forensics and match the DNA it to the offending canine!
And you thought Jeremy Vyle could sink no lower!
This week: I believe your dog shit in my paddling pool and is the father of our baby, and I don't trust her.
Coming up in part 2 - those all-important lie detector tests that are highly inaccurate which we claim is 90% accurate and that means they's NEVER wrong!).
- Have you stood in some dogshit?
- Perhaps a neighbor has thrown some at your windows?
- Or maybe they're letting their pets into your garden rather than foul their own?
- Do you suspect a ex of shitting on your lawn?
Maybe we can help.
DNA diagnosis on doggie doo-doo indeed! It's The War Against Terror* gone mad!!
* ISN'T IT ODD THAT THEY NEVER ABBRIEVIATE IT ON THE NEWS? IT'S ALWAYS THE LONG WINDED, DRAWN OUT VERSION. "COMING UP ON GMTV, FIONA PHILLIPS WILL BE TALKING ABOUT GEORGE BUSH AND THE WAR AGAINST TERROR WITH KATE GARRAWAY". WHAT'S WRONG WITH SIMPLY SAYING "FIONA PHILLIPS WILL BE TALKING ABOUT BUSH AND TWAT WITH KATE GARRAWAY"?
I CAN'T SEE WHAT THE PROBLEM IS...
Sunday, 28 September 2008
ROTFPMSL...
Hmmmm.
OK, so you're rolling about on the floor, picking up all manner of mucky pawprints, stale beer and sticky floor deposits. Ruining your bestest outfit and griming yerself up like some tramp.
And if that wasn't enough, you're flooding your pantaloons with bodily fluids, and making further rollings about so it seeps into your outer garments, and onto the already filthy floor, attracting more litter and, chewing gum and Doctors to ahere to your clothes and hair.
Now, a humourescent comment may indeed be pant wettingly hilarious, but to ensure that you get your own urine all over your clothes and rolling about in dust and debris to express how comical you find such a witty jape, is surely a step to far!
A hearty laugh, a guffaw or a chortle should suffice, not soiling yourself and writhing about amongst the detrius to coat yourself in a film of filth!
Let alone texting me to boast of your pervy response to jestorial banter!
OK, so you're rolling about on the floor, picking up all manner of mucky pawprints, stale beer and sticky floor deposits. Ruining your bestest outfit and griming yerself up like some tramp.
And if that wasn't enough, you're flooding your pantaloons with bodily fluids, and making further rollings about so it seeps into your outer garments, and onto the already filthy floor, attracting more litter and, chewing gum and Doctors to ahere to your clothes and hair.
Now, a humourescent comment may indeed be pant wettingly hilarious, but to ensure that you get your own urine all over your clothes and rolling about in dust and debris to express how comical you find such a witty jape, is surely a step to far!
A hearty laugh, a guffaw or a chortle should suffice, not soiling yourself and writhing about amongst the detrius to coat yourself in a film of filth!
Let alone texting me to boast of your pervy response to jestorial banter!
Saturday, 27 September 2008
Simian Saucery...
After Dubious Eyesight Visual went experimental with multiple Bollos, they've come back as Colobus (NOT the crab), and a new album about the Fantastic Herb's journey from Statuesque Simian to Bhudda.
Trouble is, it ain't complete and it's all in the language of the most favoured segmented topping of la gateaux de fromage.
Which is a tip off, as it's all creamy sweetness, and not Medusa-olla!
But it is, cry the Ramseys (not the one's covering cakes in shells, the potty mouthed brown one), it's Cream Cheese!
Ha! Why pay a fortune to Sarah Lee? Get a digestive, smear some Philly over it, and plonk a strawberry on top! Hey Preston! Instant pudding!
I'm taking that on Britains Best Fish, and wafting it under The Goolden's nose.
Get that bouquet up yer bucket, missus!
Trouble is, it ain't complete and it's all in the language of the most favoured segmented topping of la gateaux de fromage.
Which is a tip off, as it's all creamy sweetness, and not Medusa-olla!
But it is, cry the Ramseys (not the one's covering cakes in shells, the potty mouthed brown one), it's Cream Cheese!
Ha! Why pay a fortune to Sarah Lee? Get a digestive, smear some Philly over it, and plonk a strawberry on top! Hey Preston! Instant pudding!
I'm taking that on Britains Best Fish, and wafting it under The Goolden's nose.
Get that bouquet up yer bucket, missus!
Friday, 26 September 2008
Cut ’n’ paste...
When you go to A&E, you'd expect they'd have the finest of fish with their needles out, a-threading you up (with special black cotton for the tinkle-on-me EMO's).
But no more! The any chess not longer darns your belly to keep yer innards in from falling out after post keboob knife culture menacement - apparently, they simply glue you up now!
I dunno about you, but if some hoody has pierced my portly podgetum, I don't want Dr Death slopping Copydex all over my wounds!
And as everyone knows, all Copydex is, is a mass of spunk jizzed into a bottle by some paedophiladelic Art Department faculty, with a dash of piss for that ammonia smell (have YOU ever encountered Copydex outside a school art lesson? I'll betcha haven't! It's all Bostick and LokTight out 'on da street'. That, and strange foreign glues from Pikeyland, for the discerning sniffer. Outrageous! Charging a pound for a stretcher in a Hospical!).
If they've got nurses rubbing pissysplodge to hold you together, it's no wonder the wards are rife with eCauliflowers and Emma's Essay!
If they're going to have all this pervosity on the NHS (a-haha, a-ha, ha ha, NHS is gonna rock ya), then they should at least kit out the nurses in them short PVC nursey outfits with the accented kle'varj and the big black boots....
In fact, why not make a clubnight out of it. Hospicals are so depressing,student nurses are always off on the piss, and the Dogturds and Sturgeons are all alchoholics, and the flahing ambulance lights are already there - just pump in some sub-woofter's bass and away you go!
Atmosfear? Open up a few cryogenic containers, get the dry ice flowing!
And you could CHARGE people to boogie amongst the bedridden! The Elf Service could run at a profit within weeks!
OK, so people die in hospicals - people die in pub bogs, so I can't see the difference! Or, as the French say, C'Difficile!
Superbugs, my arse! Have you seen caped carapaced arachnids with superstrength or titanium endoskeletons rampaging, through the wards, performing cesareans with their horrible mandibles and cowering away from the Crypt Tonight storage units?
Yay! Fetish night at the N&N!
But no more! The any chess not longer darns your belly to keep yer innards in from falling out after post keboob knife culture menacement - apparently, they simply glue you up now!
I dunno about you, but if some hoody has pierced my portly podgetum, I don't want Dr Death slopping Copydex all over my wounds!
And as everyone knows, all Copydex is, is a mass of spunk jizzed into a bottle by some paedophiladelic Art Department faculty, with a dash of piss for that ammonia smell (have YOU ever encountered Copydex outside a school art lesson? I'll betcha haven't! It's all Bostick and LokTight out 'on da street'. That, and strange foreign glues from Pikeyland, for the discerning sniffer. Outrageous! Charging a pound for a stretcher in a Hospical!).
If they've got nurses rubbing pissysplodge to hold you together, it's no wonder the wards are rife with eCauliflowers and Emma's Essay!
If they're going to have all this pervosity on the NHS (a-haha, a-ha, ha ha, NHS is gonna rock ya), then they should at least kit out the nurses in them short PVC nursey outfits with the accented kle'varj and the big black boots....
In fact, why not make a clubnight out of it. Hospicals are so depressing,student nurses are always off on the piss, and the Dogturds and Sturgeons are all alchoholics, and the flahing ambulance lights are already there - just pump in some sub-woofter's bass and away you go!
Atmosfear? Open up a few cryogenic containers, get the dry ice flowing!
And you could CHARGE people to boogie amongst the bedridden! The Elf Service could run at a profit within weeks!
OK, so people die in hospicals - people die in pub bogs, so I can't see the difference! Or, as the French say, C'Difficile!
Superbugs, my arse! Have you seen caped carapaced arachnids with superstrength or titanium endoskeletons rampaging, through the wards, performing cesareans with their horrible mandibles and cowering away from the Crypt Tonight storage units?
Yay! Fetish night at the N&N!
Thursday, 25 September 2008
Keep the noise down...
shhhhhhh!
No Willow here, but mountains of melt in the minge blue wrapped delight!
But applicate it not into your p.pipe, for it's recommended that you use Cocoa Pat. Personally, I recommend it not, for you could mix the softly spoken chinese volcalising in with recycled Rolf Harris In Disguise* poultry poducts.
Totally finger lickin' good in conjuntion with Barb IQ and proffered berries.
Ah, if only She offered up her chapstick instead!
Could've been worse - she could have presented her cheery chaps dick, and although he may like cock, it's not my glass of coke.
Still, at least we weren't out, teasing the teats of sows for musical merriment and kicking the piglets. Not to mention torturing the pussy and choking the chicken!
Em? I see Kay!
Burning your fags into Pluto's fur and tossing off seven dwarfs before getting Minnie to depend on Crack and pimping her out to Goofy and Donald whilst sending The Heavies round to the three little pigs to give them a good kicking for being behind on their 250% interest rate loan.
Steamboat Willie? Reservoir Rodents, more like!
* DYEING YOUR BEARD WHITE WILL NOT HIDE THAT DISTINCTIVE VISAGE. SECRET HERBS AND SPICES... CAN YOU TELL WHAT IT IS YET?
No Willow here, but mountains of melt in the minge blue wrapped delight!
But applicate it not into your p.pipe, for it's recommended that you use Cocoa Pat. Personally, I recommend it not, for you could mix the softly spoken chinese volcalising in with recycled Rolf Harris In Disguise* poultry poducts.
Totally finger lickin' good in conjuntion with Barb IQ and proffered berries.
Ah, if only She offered up her chapstick instead!
Could've been worse - she could have presented her cheery chaps dick, and although he may like cock, it's not my glass of coke.
Still, at least we weren't out, teasing the teats of sows for musical merriment and kicking the piglets. Not to mention torturing the pussy and choking the chicken!
Em? I see Kay!
Eeeee, Why?
Em... oh, you I see!
Burning your fags into Pluto's fur and tossing off seven dwarfs before getting Minnie to depend on Crack and pimping her out to Goofy and Donald whilst sending The Heavies round to the three little pigs to give them a good kicking for being behind on their 250% interest rate loan.
Steamboat Willie? Reservoir Rodents, more like!
* DYEING YOUR BEARD WHITE WILL NOT HIDE THAT DISTINCTIVE VISAGE. SECRET HERBS AND SPICES... CAN YOU TELL WHAT IT IS YET?
Wednesday, 24 September 2008
In space, no-one can eat Ice Cream...
P.T. Barnum said it so long ago
"Theres one born every minute" - don't you know?
Some make us laugh, Some make us cry
These Klowns honey gonna make you die
Everybody's running when the circus comes into their town
Everybodys gunning for the likes of the Killer Klowns
From outer space!
The ringmaster shouts "let the show begin"
Send in the Klowns , Let them do you in
See a rubber nose on a painted face
Bringing genecide to the human race
It's time to take a ride on the nightmare merry-go-round
You'll be dead on arrival from the likes of the Killer Klowns
From outer space...
There's cotton candy in their hands
Says the polka dotted man with a stalk of jacaranda
They're all diabolical bozos
All look around, what do you see?
Tell me what's become of humanity?
From California shores to New York Times Square
Barnum and Bailey everywhere
If you've ever wondered why the population's going down
Blame it on the plunder of the likes of the Killer Klowns
From outer space!
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