Cuntacular
Inspired by Pandemian's latest post (and you'd better follow the link, or what lies below is going to appear quite spectacularly odd), I've been having a little fun this afternoon stepping into her shoes...
The Daily fucking Mail (who I hate with a foul-mouthed passion) claimed Stephen Fry had candy floss for dinner again. They said it explained his sperm backlog. "Shut up shut up shut up," was what I said, as I ran with righteous vengeance into their office in London. And with wild gesticulating I shouted, “All your opinions are rubbish, you lazy cunting buffoons! Why don't you write about wimmins things, you cretins?”
But oh, their carpets were filthy. And there were whining grease smeared children wherever I looked. I shan't claim that it isn't a dubious work ethic which sees people vacuuming daily, but their ludicrous slatternly pit could only cause profuse vomiting.
"What's a hoover?" Those fools asked. "Pah! piffle! You idiots!" I said. But then I saw the headline: “Morrissey Keeps Spare Bollocks in Knickers,” it said. I was stationary for a moment, then seized with inappropriate sniggering.
Why? why? why? My childishness was never more cuntacular.
(degenerate metaphor)
Yet was my clumsiness to stop there? Eh?
...my aunt Fanny; of course not.
(filthy similie)
Because some cunt gave me alcohol, which I like with unrestrained glee... Bugger. And, indeed, Arse. Next thing I knew, I was writing them a haiku. I know, I know, such cunty cuntery.
But what the futtock is it to you, anyway?
___
The Daily fucking Mail (who I hate with a foul-mouthed passion) claimed Stephen Fry had candy floss for dinner again. They said it explained his sperm backlog. "Shut up shut up shut up," was what I said, as I ran with righteous vengeance into their office in London. And with wild gesticulating I shouted, “All your opinions are rubbish, you lazy cunting buffoons! Why don't you write about wimmins things, you cretins?”
But oh, their carpets were filthy. And there were whining grease smeared children wherever I looked. I shan't claim that it isn't a dubious work ethic which sees people vacuuming daily, but their ludicrous slatternly pit could only cause profuse vomiting.
"What's a hoover?" Those fools asked. "Pah! piffle! You idiots!" I said. But then I saw the headline: “Morrissey Keeps Spare Bollocks in Knickers,” it said. I was stationary for a moment, then seized with inappropriate sniggering.
Why? why? why? My childishness was never more cuntacular.
(degenerate metaphor)
Yet was my clumsiness to stop there? Eh?
...my aunt Fanny; of course not.
(filthy similie)
Because some cunt gave me alcohol, which I like with unrestrained glee... Bugger. And, indeed, Arse. Next thing I knew, I was writing them a haiku. I know, I know, such cunty cuntery.
But what the futtock is it to you, anyway?
___
Labels: Silly
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