Darren vs Chunky Chuck Norris
Back when I was at school my mates and I would skive off double maths on Friday afternoon and make the short trip up to Abington Park, Northampton, and do what any self respecting sixteen year olds would do for enjoyment – twat about on the swings ‘til home time.

One particular December day it’d been snowing heavily. The park was an oasis of calm. Picture-perfect white. It looked as if God had had his new issue of Celestial Playboy delivered and had spent the day beating off and ejaculating stupendous amounts of deity cum across the land. The park was whiter than a Klu Klux Clan convention in the most inbred parts of Alabama. There were also loads of snowmen everywhere. An invasion of the fuckers. The good folk of Northampton appeared to have said, en masse: “Fuck work for a game of soldiers, let’s go to the park and build snowmen, yay!”

My mate Darren decided it would be absolutely fucking hilarious to rugby tackle the parks new snowy inhabitants as we walked along, making our way down to the adventure playground to smoke a few fags and act all hard. As we skidded unsteadily down the icy path Darren was off to one side dealing out death and destruction to all snowmen kind, Terminator-style.

As we approached the end of the path Darren let out a girlish scream of glee as he noticed a particularly large be-carrotted cunt with two lumps of coal for its eyes. This particular snowman was pretty damn spectacular, a work of art, you could say. It also stood a good six feet tall and was as thick as a tree trunk. It even had twigs for arms and a little hat on. This wasn’t a snowman. This was a person made up of snow. And Darren – being the destructive little cunt that he was – was compelled to ‘cunt it in the fuck to death’.

“Watch this, boys,” said Darren, as he took a run up and launched himself head first into the snowman’s lower torso, flying through the chill air like a pubescent Superman.

And as Darren made absolute, full-on, brutal fucking contact with Mr. Snowman, the produce of some talented family’s labours, Darren bounced off and lay motionless on the snowy earth. Impressive. The rest of us, being schoolboys, resorted to the standard response for these sorts of situations – we started laughing like hyenas on speed. Peculiar thing was Mr. Snowman still stood proud and (oo-eeerr) erect, gazing down on Darren’s crumpled, unmoving form like a water-based chunky Chuck Norris.

Darren was out cold. Turns out Mr. Snowman was as thick as a tree trunk for a reason. His broad, stout body had as its foundation a sturdy, solid, incredibly-difficult-to-move-with-a-schoolboy’s-head tree stump.
( SpankyHanky, Mon 21 Dec 2009, 9:46, 1 reply)

heheh
much like my brother, the snowman and the bollard...
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Mon 21 Dec 2009, 19:39, closed)