Tag Archives: diaries

According to my stats, if you’re reading this, you must be a Zoophile.

30 Jan

WARNING: Do not read if you are adverse to naughty words such as “cock”, “vagina” and “fuck”.

It turns out that my captive audience seem to be a bunch of Zoophiles with a fetish for diseased vaginas.

Yes, if you are reading this, it is because you have most likely searched for the term “gorilla cock”, “gorillas having sex”, “gorilla with big ball sack” (this is one of my favourites), or “blue waffle vagina disease”, to name but a few. You may also be the one person that searched “men eating womens snot”. (Note, it should be “womens’ “, not “womens”, but I imagine that if you’re in the midst of a snot searching session, an apostrophe is the least of your worries.)

I’d like to extend my sympathy to whoever it was that searched “how hard is it to send a reply” (yes, missing a “?”); To this person, I would say “They’re just not that into you; But if it’s any consolation, they’re probably having sex with a gorilla at this moment in time.”

Now, God knows I’m all for being open-minded and liberal. I’ve done some “crazy” things in my time: I’ve run around naked, hugged a tree, been to a fetish party, indulged in things sexually that might be seen as a little “different”. Dammit, I’ve even been as rock and roll as to go into my bank account overdraft. You could never accuse me of being a stiff upper lipped Brit.

But even I am having just a little trouble finding the turn-on in gorilla porn. Or gorilla cock. Or gorilla ball bags. Or gorilla ejaculate. In fact, anything gorilla related. The same can be said for Blue Waffle.

On a brighter and completely unrelated note, I’m now going to shamelessly promote some of my other articles for you to read, so that you can cleanse your mind of bestiality.

There’s something for everyone: If you like (or in this case, hate) Daniel Craig, you can join in the hate-fest here.

Like (or hate) pussies? Here you go.

Want to watch a guy thrusting a long metal pole that is attached to his Y-fronts? (It’s really fucking funny.) Click me.

I’ve written some other shit too. If you really want to read it, go look it up.

One last thought for the day: There are other animals out there aside from gorillas. Mix it up a bit. Just saying.

“How Cheryl Cole takes her tea?” Who gives a tiny rat’s arse..?

15 Nov

There is officially no hope for planet Earth. Today I had the sheer displeasure of my earholes being polluted by the utter shite that one can hear on the radio – no I’m not talking about Chris Brown or Justin Bieber – I’m talking about the advert I heard whilst in my car, encouraging me to buy a magazine because I could, and I QUOTE: “Find out how Cheryl takes her tea.”

Yes, my friends. I could find out how Cheryl “I’m as talented as dry shit on bog-roll” Cole, (or “Cheryl” as she is now calling herself after her footballer, yes, FOOTBALLER husband cheated on her, I mean who would EVER have thunk it??), prefers her tea. Not only this – I could do so after swapping 250 of our Great British pennies in exchange for said magazine.

Well. WELL. Fuck me sideways and call me Baloo.

I mean, to be honest, I really for the life of me cannot figure out just how I have managed to exist on this planet for 25 and a half years, without this most crucial, most astronomic, most vital and LIFE-CHANGING piece of information.

Pray, do tell, how DOES Cheryl take her tea? What flavour tea does she drink? And what brand? Does she keep the teabag in whilst drinking? Or does she let it brew? And for how long does she let it brew? Does she accompany it with a biscuit? Chocolate bourbons or malted milks? Custard crèmes or jammy dodgers? Does she take it with milk?  Or sugar? Or up the arse?

Because, by great Odin’s raven, until I know this information, I shan’t sleep again. I shan’t be validated as a proper human being until I have been enlightened with this gift of knowledge. I shan’t be able to eat until I know how, just exactly HOW, Cheryl takes her tea.

And once I have found out this information, I shall extend my quest to finding out whether Simon Cowell uses butter or margarine, whether Russell Brand uses ribbed or flavoured condoms, and whether The Queen wipes from back to front or front to back. Because God knows, life is not complete until we are all aware of these nuggets of wisdom.

The pussy is still dead.

12 Nov

I lied this morning when I said I didn’t have the energy to get passionately angry about anything today. I am still very much snotting all over the place, my nose is redder than Rudolph’s bell-end, and my throat feels as if I’ve swallowed an over zealous cactus. Yet, something has ignited the rage within me. And that “something”, is dead meat. Literally.

Some of you may have read my little rant a few days ago, about the deceased cat that was clogging up my Facebook feed – or rather, the deceased cat’s mentally stunted owner. I thought that, having gotten it all off my chest, and with the cat in question being dead, that this whole sorry state of affairs would clear itself up and I wouldn’t have to read the utter gob shite status updates for much longer.

HOW WRONG I WAS. It is a week later and you may like to know that, whilst the cat is still dead, the owner’s enthusiasm for shitting all over Facebook, unfortunately, is not.

“Let’s all donate to animal charity this month.” Errrr.. let’s NOT.

“Mummy misses you so much.” Sorry – last time I checked, the owner in question still had the remnants of a human brain and wasn’t a FUCKING CAT.

A comment from a friend: “I lost my cat too, I hope they have found each other in heaven and are special friends now.” I kid you not, I couldn’t make this shit up.

Maybe it’s just me and my cold, bitter, unsympathetic negligence for furry beings. Or maybe I haven’t lost my brains just yet and still have a grasp of sanity. Answers on a postcard please, because unless I’ve missed something, and animals have now started having funerals at which there is a wake that I can get pissed at, I’m starting to worry that I may not be normal.

I rest my case: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LhIK8ZW0Gpk

What a ball-ache.

29 Oct

I’ve set up this site to report or rant on all things that I consider to be a ball-ache. I hope some of you may find solace in some of the things written here, by knowing that someone else shares your pain. Others of you will find the things written here offensive. That’s because you yourself are a ball-ache.

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