we don't see you round here much these days.

afternoon peoples...

i lost interest in this rambling on to noone idiocy rather quickly but now feel i should make more of an effort, if only to keep Mr Relf sated. the demands that man can make could break a lesser person. fortunately for all concerned i happen to be particularly strong of heart, spirit and bowell so all is well. except wells themselves of course, they are clearly a well... rather than just... well... er... well.

weeeeeeell...

so anyway, what's been going on then? very little mostly, as normal. i have listened to an inordinate amount of metal, as normal. i have been hating my bag o' shite callcentre job, as normal. i have been stoned at least 60% of the time, as normal. i have done a few inventories and have generally got the business to a state of proper readiness, unlike normal.

there we are, that's the boring bit done. back to the CRACK WHORES!

awesome. CRACK WHORES are the best bit about this blogging lark.

so what can i talk about that may or may not be of interest... well (shit, there it is again!), i've been introduced to some rather novel sexual terminology recently to much general hilarity and worried looks from the girls at work a-plenty. and they were worried when all we talked about was Jews, niggers and queers... the poor be-mammaried fools. personal favourites of the afore mentioned conjugal howitzers have to be 'The Spiderman' and 'The Salty Pirate'.

'The Spiderman' involves having sex with a person from behind and then, at the crucial moment, pulling out and (whilst bazzing your lovefat into your hand) spitting on your partners back. when they turn around to complain that you've just maumaued all over them you then flick the aforemention handheld wazzidue into their unsuspecting face whilst screaming 'GO WEB GO!!!' at the top of your lungs.

'The Salty Pirate', on the other hand, requires your partner to be waiting, jaws akimbo, for the money shot but then at the point of no return you simultaneously adjust your aim to their left eye and kick them as hard as you can in the right shin. the end result of all of which being a person with only one working eye and one working leg hopping up and down going 'Y'ARGH!'.

various other 'interesting' practices have been discussed, however i shall not address them further as they all pretty much get more misogynistic from here on in to the point that 'Windsocking' is, i believe, illegal in over 30 EU countries. and i don't even know if there are 30 countries in this fine European Union of ours.

...well, not ours, more like Belgiums...

...cunts...

i was once king of Belgium for a short time you know. possibly the dullest two weeks of my life and the food was terrible! love of god don't get me started on what they thought tea was supposed to taste like. i mean i wouldn't mind but i don't even drink tea so what the fuck they thought they were getting away with is beyond me.

Johnny Foreigner can often cause serious problems without intending to, however, so i suppose i shouldn't really be that surprised. still, at least we won both times. not that i dislike non-anglos of course, it's just easier to be horrible to a person who doesn't quite understand what you're saying to them.

...or to their mother, more importantly. although i was once notably suprised to learn that the average portuguese mouse-handler has enough of a grasp of the English language to comprehend the sentence 'your wife looks like a siphilitic whore in the death throws of an AIDs begatting cum binge, fine sir'. fortunately i had recently encountered a large bouncing five pointed star down a dark alleyway and was hence immortal at the time so his cleverly disguised mouse-elephant gun ('why are you pointing that Vacuum attachment at me?!') had little or no real effect on me beyond the ruination of an otherwise perfectly good pair of shoes. his wifes chlamydia was quite another (and notably more irritating) matter all together, however... well how was i to know i was almost exactly right except for the specific disease in question? i'd only just met the woman! again though, i had a more than fortunate escape as my testicles had just previously been declared a national treasure and hence were not allowed to be damaged. if there's only one thing the portuguese ever got right (and there is only one thing, the lazy currs...) it's STD clinics. faultless service and impeccably decorated throughout!

huzzah! now about this CRACK WHORE of yours...