Rambling Diatribe 4
There's a Weird Week 2 coming up soon, it really has been a fucking odd one, even by my standards. I'm too tired to write it up at the moment, the people at the place I go to hang out during the day and thus save on electricity say that unless I do some work for them I'll have to find another place to get free internet access. Complete shower of cunts, the lot of them.
I seem to have been spending a lot of time being held up at the moment, I was just stood waiting to buy tabs whilst some mental ant of a woman bought a lottery ticket, including the full "I hope you win, bet you'd quit your job, oh no I wouldn't, I'd still blow tramps for a fiver a pop" routine. Fucking idiots. I was sighing so hard and muttering "cunt" so often that I fainted and lost my place in the queue.
How the fuck are people still squeezing out conversations about the lottery, for cock's sakes? Can't you do anything more topical than that? If I cut off your face will there be metal and wires underneath? Jesus. I wonder if Edward John Smith's last meal was a submarine sandwich with crispy seaweed on a bed of iceberg lettuce - wouldn't that be ironic? How's that for topical, you cripple-brained oxygen depurifier?
What's with selling lottery tickets at the cigarette counter anyway? Are there thousands of people trying to win the lottery so they can cure cancer? I don't fucking think so. No, they'll win, buy eight Ferraris, shit all over their "old" friends and cancer can go smoke itself, same as every other cunt.
But yeah, being held up. Horses on the road. Every day there's an army of little girls trotting up and down my road, shitting on the place and stopping traffic all around. All little girls, all getting their first taste of the love between their legs. (It's the horses shitting mainly, in case the previous sentence was a little confusing.)
Don't get me wrong. I like the idea of women getting acquainted with clitoral stimulation at an early age - the more sex crazed ladies there are roaming the streets in search of something to rub themselves on the better, is the way I see it.
But cars replaced the horse as a form of transport, why can't they do the same with this side of the equestrian experience and all learn to ride washing machines instead? Put some springs on the bottom, set it on a spin cycle and you could even still have that bizarre show jumping crap. Horses, in my opinion, are for dribbling cunts (literally).
Motorways are another one. I was held up for about an hour the other day because some fucking inbred piece of penis dribble couldn't drive in a straight line. What the fuck? You're telling me you didn't see the straight road ahead? Do you hallucinate roundabouts? Seriously, I don't know, fill me in here.
And for that whole time, I'm staring at an advert (illegal, by the way) by the side of the motorway for CuntShitIndianPokerOnlineGaming.com. Huh? Are people driving down the M1 at 80mph, six inches from the back of the car in front and thinking, "Fuck me this motorway is dull, I need me some gamblin'."? Are they getting out PDAs and losing their shirt between junctions 10 and 11? Is that what's causing the crashes?
"Dude, the Russian Mafia are emailing you to pull over at Trowell services, you owe them 10 grand and they need to break your kneecaps as security."
"Fuck that, I'm heading for the barriers! I regret nothiiiiiiiii"
*CRUNCH*
Also, why are people vandalising motorway service station shitters? I know from thorough research into people that they vandalise for two reasons; jealousy and boredom. Whose house is nastier than a service station shitter? Who gets bored in there, what are they doing? It's not like there isn't plenty to read.
I go in there, I'm shitting before I sit down, I wipe (once, using the cleanest thing in there, my left hand) and I'm out. Sometimes I just shit down my trouser leg whilst walking into the toilet, then it's a quick shake into the bowl and I'm gone. What are these people doing in there to get so bored they pull the flush handle off?
My only guess is that they're waiting for Big Darren, who will be arriving (although his incorrect spelling and grammar phrase it "cumming") at 14:00 every Tuesday. I have some advice for these people - he's spotty and smells of horses, leave the toilet intact, shit, get off the pot and fuck off.
I seem to have been spending a lot of time being held up at the moment, I was just stood waiting to buy tabs whilst some mental ant of a woman bought a lottery ticket, including the full "I hope you win, bet you'd quit your job, oh no I wouldn't, I'd still blow tramps for a fiver a pop" routine. Fucking idiots. I was sighing so hard and muttering "cunt" so often that I fainted and lost my place in the queue.
How the fuck are people still squeezing out conversations about the lottery, for cock's sakes? Can't you do anything more topical than that? If I cut off your face will there be metal and wires underneath? Jesus. I wonder if Edward John Smith's last meal was a submarine sandwich with crispy seaweed on a bed of iceberg lettuce - wouldn't that be ironic? How's that for topical, you cripple-brained oxygen depurifier?
What's with selling lottery tickets at the cigarette counter anyway? Are there thousands of people trying to win the lottery so they can cure cancer? I don't fucking think so. No, they'll win, buy eight Ferraris, shit all over their "old" friends and cancer can go smoke itself, same as every other cunt.
But yeah, being held up. Horses on the road. Every day there's an army of little girls trotting up and down my road, shitting on the place and stopping traffic all around. All little girls, all getting their first taste of the love between their legs. (It's the horses shitting mainly, in case the previous sentence was a little confusing.)
Don't get me wrong. I like the idea of women getting acquainted with clitoral stimulation at an early age - the more sex crazed ladies there are roaming the streets in search of something to rub themselves on the better, is the way I see it.
But cars replaced the horse as a form of transport, why can't they do the same with this side of the equestrian experience and all learn to ride washing machines instead? Put some springs on the bottom, set it on a spin cycle and you could even still have that bizarre show jumping crap. Horses, in my opinion, are for dribbling cunts (literally).
Motorways are another one. I was held up for about an hour the other day because some fucking inbred piece of penis dribble couldn't drive in a straight line. What the fuck? You're telling me you didn't see the straight road ahead? Do you hallucinate roundabouts? Seriously, I don't know, fill me in here.
And for that whole time, I'm staring at an advert (illegal, by the way) by the side of the motorway for CuntShitIndianPokerOnlineGaming.com. Huh? Are people driving down the M1 at 80mph, six inches from the back of the car in front and thinking, "Fuck me this motorway is dull, I need me some gamblin'."? Are they getting out PDAs and losing their shirt between junctions 10 and 11? Is that what's causing the crashes?
"Dude, the Russian Mafia are emailing you to pull over at Trowell services, you owe them 10 grand and they need to break your kneecaps as security."
"Fuck that, I'm heading for the barriers! I regret nothiiiiiiiii"
*CRUNCH*
Also, why are people vandalising motorway service station shitters? I know from thorough research into people that they vandalise for two reasons; jealousy and boredom. Whose house is nastier than a service station shitter? Who gets bored in there, what are they doing? It's not like there isn't plenty to read.
I go in there, I'm shitting before I sit down, I wipe (once, using the cleanest thing in there, my left hand) and I'm out. Sometimes I just shit down my trouser leg whilst walking into the toilet, then it's a quick shake into the bowl and I'm gone. What are these people doing in there to get so bored they pull the flush handle off?
My only guess is that they're waiting for Big Darren, who will be arriving (although his incorrect spelling and grammar phrase it "cumming") at 14:00 every Tuesday. I have some advice for these people - he's spotty and smells of horses, leave the toilet intact, shit, get off the pot and fuck off.
posted by Peter O'Phile at
3:23 pm
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2 comments
