Oh No!

I just found out my kids are adopted.

Fantasmagasmic Idea For A New Game Show!!!

I have a great idea for a new game show!! There are three guys with their dicks out, then a wall with three holes in it, and their mothers bent over on the other side. The contestants then have to answer questions, choosing between answers A, B and C. If they answer a question correctly, they don’t have to do anything, but if they WRONGLY answer A, they have to put their hard wang through hole A. If they wrongly answer B, they have to put it in hole B, and for a wrong answer C, hole C. Therefore, the more mistakes they make, the greater the chance they will eventually end up screwing their own ma. The show will be called STUPID MOTHERFUCKERS.

Science Series 2: The Earth's Atmosphere

The Earth’s atmosphere is a kind of massive chill-out zone, designed to support and nurture life. It is made up of 78% nitrogen, 21% oxygen, and 1% farts. Warm air tends to rise, whereas chilled or cold air often goes round and round in circles. The rotation of the Earth’s atmosphere is what spins the Earth itself round and round in space. There are four main layers in the atmosphere, much the same way as there are four layers in a cake that has four layers. These layers are called air piers, and are named The Tropical Zone, Mountain World, Kingdom Of Clouds, and Inner Space. Certain animals live in the air, and these are called birds. These animals are in the air because they are very light indeed, and are thus being slowly spun out into space by the centrifugal force created by our planet. Many people would like to explore the atmosphere, which has led to a recent boom in sales for sky map companies. The Earth is the only known planet with a breathable atmosphere. However, Esquire’s, the nightclub down the road from my house, also has a very nice atmosphere.

Tale Of The Pencils

Once upon a time, there lived some pencils in a little forest glade at the foot of a tall, scary mountain. The pencils lived together peacefully and happily, farming and eating together without conflict or any grudges between them. They lived in wonderful pencil cases propped up in the soft, fertile ground, and grew shorter by the year due to their annual sharpening, which took place at a ceremony. Life was good, except for one ominous shadow, cast over the small community (which didn’t move around because it was stationery) by a castle halfway up the mountain, which belonged to a terrible, mean old wizard who rode around on a fire-breathing dragon. The wizard seldom came down the mountain, but when he did, he burned up all of the pencils’ crops with the dragon’s fiery breath. Pencils don’t eat anything, so it didn’t really matter. It was more the principle of the thing, and the fact that sometimes the fire spread to their tiny abodes, burning them down and destroying all of their property. Once, a pencil had even died in one of these senseless attacks. So, understandably, the pencils were all terrified.
Luckily for the pencils, on the other side of the mountain there lived a certain 1980’s pop group, who, when they heard the wizard launch one of his attacks, would come charging round the foot of the mountain on their motorbikes, the revving of which was the only thing that would scare the dragon away. One day, the wizard decided to launch his most fearsome attack yet, so he mounted the dragon, which had been drinking loads of coffee, and charged down the mountainside with a sword in each flailing hand. However, the 1980’s pop group had been secretly watching the wizard’s preparations for several days, and had spent the time building an electrical pulse canon. When the wizard reached the tiny pencil village, they charged in with the weapon held high and blew the wizard clean over the village, over the dense surrounding forest, over the vast desert beyond, and into the dark cursed lake of Anwalan with a mighty SPLASH! And that’s why pencils have Erasure.

Poem About Digital TV

Two slow silver shining ticks of awe,
The old coal company bores a tunnel,
Through the birthday cake,
Light studiously avoiding every place,
Where the frog landed,
A silent army of concrete tractors,
Half of which sport their elevation,
As proudly as a boy with his new turtle,
Come back to bed! purrs the fiancee,
With the charm of an oily snake,
Wrapped around a tin can,
There’s too much fur to flush it all down the toilet,
And there’s only so much you can take,
She cries a stream of pills back into the bottle,
A young girl takes his arm, and later puts it back with the rest of him,
Beady ears bob like a cat’s on the bough,
A bomb at the fishery,
Disturbs the game at match point,
Policemen screech up with their windows down,
Laughing half-drunk bottles peel their labels off,
And fornicate in the shadows,
A grandmother has her second daughter killed,
And something cold happens to the sky,
No one must ever see my nob!!

I Hate Tom Cruise

I hate Tom Cruise. He’s not just a dickhead, he’s a Moby Dickhead. I don’t know if it’s the preppy, Reaganite vibes that radiate from his every smile, or the way he claps his hands and shouts ‘Wooooh’ when he gets excited in his earlier films. But I hate him. I hate his Scientology, his creepy proclamations of love for his child bride, and, most of all, his obvious belief that he has talent of some kind. He doesn’t. His acting is awful. He hasn’t made a half-decent film in years. He has no charm on screen or off. I remember this one time, in London, someone shot him with a water pistol, and rather than laugh like a normal person, he kept saying ‘Why would you do that? Why would you do that? You’re an asshole.’ He made the guy who shot him apologise, and the spineless fool did. If I had shot Tom Cruise, and he’d asked me why I did it, I would have said ‘Because I assumed you had a sense of humour, you short prick.’

Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand

On several occasions, someone has recommended that I read Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand. As a result, I have decided to make a point of not reading it.