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THE STEROE TYPO
Another day passes by like a pessimistic passer by who listens to Masser, by - Jeremy Soule. Now Nietz will drive you up the wall with unrivaled drivel, you're just the pig that's caught in the middle of this whole sorry state of affairs. Why would a State of Affairs ever apologise? Why would I apologize for spelling apologise with an S? I'm English. Actually inside Glish, an Australian lesbian club. What would I be doing there you ask? Checkin' out da scene, scopin', scoutin', actually I'm not, the bouncers kicked me out... Ironically the bouncers were women, really butch like Mr. Cassidy and his kid called Sundance. I don't want to dance in the sun, I want to dance in Glish! I wish I could dance in Glish and get wasted then piss all over that lesbian Trish. I want to trash the place, rashly, until its ash and nine people try to gash me with broken bottles or thrash me with their homemade whips. It wasn't my fault this cigarette fell out of my pocket [even though I don't smoke] that night by accident and the club set on fire. There should have been a fire drill, and if there wasn't, it should have been drilled into us to make sure there was, otherwise none of us would have burned to death that night. We all went out in a blaze of glory instead of Hope and Gloryholes. We had spent the night drinking gloryhol and recanting Andy Warhol stories. Getting more and more bladdered by the second. Intoxicated drinking lots of crates of grade A lager, discussing Carl Sagan's saga, and his father, Samuel, for a lot of hours.
There is nothing like a warts and all story about Quartz watches. It beats pre and posttentiousness. Hurting someone, dishing out pre-traumatic stress, who has my blessing to tell me my breath stinks... in fact the whole operation stinks... Or stings from constant blood thinning stomach needles which cause bruising, like these musings of mine which other people find amusing. We're masochists, turned on by the abuse and do things that are beyond-the-norm, like name folk Norman. No man or woman should have to name their son Norman. Or force themselves to become Mormons and go knocking on people's doors to convert other people into... mp4 files, using a Mormon to mp4 Converter tool. They are the tools, the fools with silly rules who subvert people into mules with cruelty. Although the biggest form of cruelty I've ever seen is Cruel Tea, which scolds people when they swig it back. Even the word 'scold' is an insult, how can something that burns you have the word cold in it? The English lang wage doesn't make any sense, or pay well, we want things putting into Leyman's Terms, for stupid people who think you can get aids from touching a gay man's germs. That way everybody understands, everybody learns. Everybody earns the English lang wage. Paid straight into your bank hAckcount. Achtung! Act II the Tongue Fetish, for a fetid rancid tongue that smells like feta cheese. Everyone has to get a piece. Of Edam, if anyone can suck Eve's clam, its Adam, during the 120 Days of Saddam.. Hussie MacSane. Nietz will shit on these people like a blitzkrieg, offend them while they lip read. Pay lip service like a licked cervix. Nine Inch tongue. Delightful, Whoreal B toothcopyandpaste. Listen don't get cocky and waste space Nietz, keep everything neat and tidy, watch Utopia on Channel 4, U Hope It's good, if not, what's the alternative? Altering natives in 9 hour cosmetic surgery. How much does it cost to get a surgeon who can cut metric. But why injure Rick? What has Rick done wrong? This whole argument is Rickdiculous. Let's move on, said Roger Taylor who nailed a piece of toilet roll to a West Coast sink, then got beat off Melinda Czink, and then slapped in the face by Doink the Clown who was on downers that day, he felt drowsy and wasn't in the right or left frame of m... reference points which were all so far removed like the tooth that was causing pain, it was plain to see like brown wrapping paper... Today Staples was on the brink of closure, which kind of throws ya out of ya regular daily pattern... But it doesn't matter, all these greedy high street stores priced out the poor and right now its still sore... Administration, fuck em.. I prefer the low street stores. The streets you have to bend down and crawl under a small wall just to get to, like an hidden portal, like trying to stick your stick in Natalie Portman's porthole. But we don't support all these crazy schemes like chemtrail agendas and gender swap transexuals who enter TV reality shows and get breaks that straight people might not... Reality TV is anything but reality, Big Brother should visit the council estates.
People say I'm hopping mad, but the day they drop me in my coffin its gonna be real sad for the people footing my funeral insurance bill. Because I still haven't taken out a policy. There's no point, I might get captured by a serial killer and get a proper burial. That guy does it for free, he doesn't even charge for labour, he's kind of freelance, which is ironic really because he never did free Lance (one of his victims) and man o' man, you should have seen the gore on that one! Have you ever been to Gore Town while its pouring down? Then been stabbed in the knee by a four-inch clown? I bet you ain't! Gore Town is next door to Noun Town, but man, they are like two different worlds. Its like a Tale of Two Citeh's.
I Love the Way you Lie... down on my bed and open your legs honey...... Roasted ham. Damn! Fake person!
Let's not go to Madame Tussauds, let's go and visit that woman with a couple of cars - Madame Two Fords. She drives men around, a true Ford Escort service. She sucks on four penises in her Ford Cortina, and forgets to mop up the four semen stains that drained down the side of the seats.
I'm not James Bond, I don't have a Licence to Kill, but I do have a Licence to Fill - up your head with meaningless bullshit that noone wants to hear. Real loony zany shit like a story about a trained pygmy with syphilis, I'm sick of my pygmy seeing Phillis and sticking his Phallus inside her Chalice. So I stepped in and challenged Alice to a duel, we had to swordfight like two fools.
It was worse when I went into that bar and said to the bartender, "Audrey's Russian." He said, "Is she really? I didn't know that." I said, "No Mr. Bartender, you don't get my point, I'm ordering a drink." But he said we don't have any Audrey's Russian left. So I said, "what have you got?" And he said, "Blind Russian." I said I'll have that one, and the bartender shouted into the back room, "Boris come out!" "No!" I stated, I don't mean I want an actual blind Russian person, I mean the drink. He said, we don't have any blind Russian.. we've got a Bangkok Bomb?" I said that sounds too dangerous, what about a Cocaine Lady? He said, "She left five minutes when the police raided the place." I said, Cum Guzzler?" He said, "No, she's occupied over there giving fellatio." I said, "Frozen pussy?" He told me, "Do you really want to order a frozen pussy?" I said, "why not? It's only a drink." He said, "it'll take about five hours to defrost." So impatiently I said, "Hot Buttered Snow?" And he said that was only a euphemism. I said, "Can I have a mutual orgasm?" He said, "we'd all like to have a mutual orgasm." I said, "you know what, on second thoughts, I'll just have a glass of water." He said, "Wise choice Sir, Wise choice. One glass of ordinary, clear, non-alcoholic water coming up." He chuckled, I drank the water and five minutes later I was chained up in the basement like a medieval prisoner.
And that was the end of that saga. Nobody really knows what happened on that fateful, frightful night in that basement. But they did hear the sounds of fruitful musical fusion coming to fruition and the sound of deer coasters being rolled around.