» Why I was late

...
Stroll into the newsagents late one day, not particularly in the mood for being shouted at by the balding shopkeep.

"Why the fuck are you so late, you useless bastard!"

"FUCK OFF! FUCK OFF! FUCK OFF, YOU FUCKING BALDY SCOUSE FUCKING CUNT!"

And that is my best excuse to date.

Edit: And before you lot get any ideas, i was relieved of my duty that day.


click 'i like this' to see a pic of the shop keeper.
(Fri 29th Jun 2007, 21:12, More)

» And that's the thanks I got

..
I was a good Christian for 23 years.
I held charity events in order to help the homeless and starving.
I ran collection boxes in the worst parts of the worst towns.
I flew to Ghana to try and give a little salvation to AIDs victims.
I prayed to God every night.
I developed an understanding with those with different religions, and learned to accept that.


And He STILL didn't make it any fucking bigger!!111!!
(Thu 24th May 2007, 21:18, More)

» Work Experience

...
I was the tea-bitch, and they made me wear a hat saying that i was in fact, the tea bitch.
(Tue 15th May 2007, 18:21, More)

» Terrible food

weell..
I saw some thing on myspace a week ago entitled "don't read this!", so naturally being an inquisitive human, i opened it, only to find that if i didn't repost it, a dead girl with no skin would come after me during the night!

you can imagine how peeved i was at this.

Anyway. having failed to repost the passage, I camped up all night with a few beers at the ready, awaiting the kruger-esque figure to appear next to me and ravage me of my life.

Imagine the bitches' fucking shock when i beat the shit out of her with a baseball bat, stamped on her cunt, hung her up in the basement for 5 days, cut her up into little pieces and ate her.

tasted like shit.
(Sat 19th May 2007, 21:25, More)

» And that's the thanks I got

8O)
I was doing a business trip for some rather well off blokes down at the local brothel (gawd knows what they were doing there [probably management..]), which included driving all the way to some docks up near Portsmouth in the dead of bloody night, just to hand a package to some shady stranger, who seemed more than pleased to accept it. I was swayed from suspicion when he handed me an envelope full of fifty pound notes though, and carried on regardless throughout the night.

Anyhow, i got back to the brothel and met my now managers, as i guessed that i was now under their employment. Well, The boss (Or Big Tony as he liked to be called), said i had to perform an 'overseas' (yes, he did the 'quoty' thing with his fingers) shipment to sunny Denmark, of which my constant accompaniment with the packages was crucial.

So i took the flight to Denmark in their private jet and was left alone in a place which i later learned was called Horsens, to drive up to a warehouse where i left the packages under a pile of crates as instructed by Tony (what a nice guy). I looked around and was twatted in the face with a metal object. The camera then panned to a rather impressive shot of me, as i stared, then wiped a bit of blood off the side of my mouth and observed it with a disturbing glint in my eyes. (it really did look impressive). I then proceeded to do some fucking massive matrix-like fight scene with about 20 foreign blokes with scimitars and tasers, looked into my inventory and pulled out the chaingun, which immediately turned the old field outside the warehouse into a churning ocean of mud and blood which drowned all the fucking survivors.

Annnywaay...So i grabbed one of the corpses, and smeared his filthy blood over my face (sorta psychological thing which probably makes someone about to shoot you from a mile away have second thoughts about actually fucking with someone who could ruin your shit even after death, 'cause he most likely has an invincibility cheat somewhere, or Death owes him a debt) and roared like our primitive ancestors who sought that which we need to live by simply killing everything else, therefore causing any OTHER survivors to have 5 defense points taken away, and their morale lowered by 3...And jumped onto the helicopter which i assumed is what they all arrived on, and ordered the pilot to take me back to fucking England or i'd cut his weasly throat.
On the way he must've accidentally taken a wrong turn because next thing i knew, we were in Cambodia, and you can't fucking blame me because i got a G in geography. So next thing i know i'm struggling in an all out battle against some vietcong fucks to try and destroy a POW camp, with all porisoners intact.

I won, naturally skimping out on the finer details.

I was congratulated by the US army and taken back to Good ol' England where i was hailed as a hero.
Went back to Big Tony's where i was congratulated and was promised 'a big reward, and no mistake!'.

you know what they gave me?

15 kilograms of fucking talcum powder, which i was later incarcerated for 18 years for being in posession of.





please click 'i like this' because i am a starving ethiopian child.

with internet connection.
(Thu 24th May 2007, 16:47, More)