Do you want a Crunchie as well?

- You what?

- Do you want a Crunchie as well?

Obviously I was fucking livid, I'd just finished my tiramisu and was about to pay the bill when these two fucking heathens had to have a shouted conversation across the restaurant floor. Proper pair of cunts. The restaurant was part of a hotel so these cunts were raiding the fucking vending machine rather than dining in. I'd spied them necking a pint or three of Carling earlier on in the evening, fucking pricks.

I couldn't help but confront the guy as he stood in front of the machine. When I say confront I let the first Crunchie drop down ready to be picked up before I smashed the geezer face first into the machine. It was better built than this fella's boat race which spurted blood and teeth as he fell to the floor. The glass frontage of the vending machine, while not unscathed, proved it was very much more of a man than he was.

Fortunately the machine was out of the way so I had time to put the boot in on this arsehole before anyone else knew what was happening. Nevertheless before I'd quite tired of showing this wanker what was what people did arrive to see a, in their eyes, defenceless victim getting a right good going over. I stopped as the growing crowd looked on in horror. The guy was sat down, kind of crumpled with a blood stained face and weirdly a huge grin. He reached back to grab the Crunchie, ripped it open and took a bite.

- I've been waiting for you to do that to me all night.

We've been married three years now.

Nobody Spunks Up A Cunt Anymore

I've written fuck all in ages

But... this was still a good idea, I'd probably like the mix of videos I've chosen as a stranger visiting here AND I am so much further on with my writing path than I would be. What you can't see is the dozen or so drafts that need working on. Obviously there's a lot of published stuff that is TBC or utter gibberish at the mo but most weeks I add a few details here and there which is getting me to the stage - I think - that most of the ideas that have been festering in my mind for years or now are kind of stored here.

With a following wind I could get Atrocity finished this month, and the artwork for Cyberdine I. Plus I've got stuff on other sites I could steal back. Without setting this up they'd be saved as random Evernote notes, or sent between email addresses or lost on word or google docs. Anyway, coming soon - the ballad (or bellend) of Bowel Cancer Brown - so called as his hair is the same colour as shit when you have bowel cancer, probably. Don't fucking ask me, I just (might) write the fucking thing. One day. Maybe. Actually I've changed my mind. Now. Piss. Off.