The Daily Jerk

Happy fun times! A Puzzler!

by on Aug.03, 2010, under CABBAGE, CUNTS, HAHAHAHA YORE, Happy fun times, Hello, horoscopes, how are you today?, I'm 12 wat is this?, lining up for fun and profit, SHUT UP, TRUTH, VIN FUCKING DIESEL

This’ll keep you guessing.

The words to find are:
CUNT
CABBAGE
WILDERBEAST
VAGINA
MAGGOT
THATCHER
TUGGING
FUCK
BANANA
YOUR
NETBALL
TEAM
SUCKS
DONKEY
BALLS
SO
THERE

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Don’t go under the bridge, that’s where trolls live!

by on Aug.02, 2010, under CABBAGE, CUNTS, FUCK FUCK FUCK I HATE EVERYONE, FUCKING RIOTS?!, HAHAHAHA YORE, Has anyone really been far as decided to use even go want to do look more like?, HEY YOU AREN'T IMPORTANT, HOW CAN ANYONE BE THIS FUCKING STUPID, I'm 12 wat is this?, kids books, MAGNETS - HOW THE FUCK DO THEY WORK, MOTHERFUCKER, REDACTED REDACTED REDACTED, Self help advice, Sparkly fuckstains, STOP IT, STOP PUNCHING ME IN THE FACE, Stories for children, The one who calls wolf quite often, TRUTH, VIN FUCKING DIESEL

Under the bridge is where trolls live, just like under the trap door in my garage is where I hide the bodies of neighborhood cunt beasts whose frisbees end up in my yard. It’s where they live in terms of sleeping, eating, and scaring goats, but not where they work. Where trolls really live is on the Internet, and what they eat is reactions. The sooner people learn this, the sooner we can get on about our lives without having fucking idiots telling us about “Cyber Security”, “Cyber Bullying”, and “Cyberspace Etiquette” every time some dead shit parent lets their retarded cunt spawn have a webcam in their bedroom.

All these supposed “Cyber Experts” seem to be old, confused, and still like to think of the Internet as that blue ‘e’ on their desktop which they can use to get to “the facebooks”. The advice they all spout has no real relevance to the way the Internet works, and is somewhere between kindergarten sand pit problem solving (tell the teacher), and the suggested response for terrorism (red alert bring in the SWAT teams and maybe Jack Bauer). Every little incident must be reported to the feds, because they seem to be so efficient at solving “Cyber Crimes”. Of all the problems in the world that people try to solve with prevention and education, this is one of the only ones where that might be the right way to go.

You see, the problem is that the Internet isn’t LIKE the playground. You can’t give someone a slap on the wrist for misbehaving, because you don’t make the rules. You can’t make rules based on your own morals or society because MOST OF THE PEOPLE ON THE INTERNET AREN’T PART OF YOUR SOCIETY AND PROBABLY DON’T SHARE YOUR MORALS. Trying to FORCE them to see things your way is both AS IGNORANT AS A FUCKING ROCK, and NEVER GOING TO FUCKING WELL WORK.

Of course, these simple facts have never stopped certain people in various countries from TRYING to control the Internet, usually with a call of “SOMEBODY THINK OF THE CHILDREN!” The thing is that these people who hatch plans to control the Internet invariably know ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOTHING ABOUT IT. They are probably the same type of retards who think that you can make unlimited free energy using magnets. They don’t listen to people who ACTUALLY FUCKING KNOW ANYTHING because they’ve labeled THEMSELVES THE FUCKING EXPERTS. WHY THE FUCK SHOULD THEY LISTEN TO ANYONE FUCKING ELSE? THEY MADE UP THEIR MIND AND BUILT THEMSELVES A WEBSITE IN MICROSOFT FUCKING FRONT PAGE, SO THEY MUST BE THE FUCKING EXPERTS.

ALSO HOW THE FUCK DO THESE CUNTS SPEND 8 HOURS A DAY “WORKING” ON A FUCKING STATIC WEBSITE? WHAT DO THEY DO? CLICK AROUND THE PAGES TO MAKE SURE THAT THEY’RE ALL STILL FUCKING THERE? I WRITE CONTENT EVERY FUCKING WEEK DAY, AND I DON’T SPEND 8 FUCKING HOURS, EVEN WHEN I’M ASSUAGING MY NEED TO STARE CONSTANTLY AT THE FUCKING STATISTICS. IT DOESN’T TAKE THAT FUCKING LONG TO “RUN” A FUCKING WEBSITE. THE FACT THAT YOU HAVE LABELED YOURSELF AN EXPERT ON “CYBER” FUCKING ANYTHING IS A TESTAMENT TO YOUR FUCKING INEPTITUDE AS A HUMAN FUCKING BEING.

PEOPLE LIKE YOU SHOULD BE LINED UP AND FUCKING SHOT BECAUSE YOU’RE OBVIOUSLY OF NO USE TO THE REST OF FUCKING SOCIETY. OH, SOMEONE WAS MEAN TO YOUR PRECIOUS LITTLE FUCKING CUNT BEAST ON THE INTERNET? WELL IT’S YOUR FUCKING JOB TO MAKE SURE THAT YOUR MAGGOTY FUCKING CUNT SPAWN ISN’T PLAYING IN THE BAD AREAS. YOU CAN’T BLAME A FUCKING LORRY DRIVER FOR HITTING YOUR CHILD IF YOU LET THEM PLAY ON A 6 LANE FREEWAY, BECAUSE THEY SHOULDN’T FUCKING BE THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE. THE SAME APPLIES TO THE FUCKING INTERNET. YOU SELF-RIGHTEOUS FUCKING CUNTS SHOULD EDUCATE YOURSELVES ABOUT WHERE IT’S SAFE FOR YOUR PRECIOUS BALL OF LARD AND FUCKING HAIR TO PLAY, OR YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE A FUCKING COMPUTER.

I DON’T FUCKING CARE IF YOU FEEL THAT INTERNET ACCESS IS A RIGHT FOR YOUR FUCKING CHILDREN, IF YOU CAN’T SPELL INTERNET, OR DON’T KNOW THE FUCKING DIFFERENCE BETWEEN “GOOGLE” AND A WEB BROWSER, THEN YOU SHOULD BE FUCKING ELECTROCUTED BEFORE BEING ALLOWED TO HAVE A COMPUTER IN YOUR FUCKING HOUSE.

Computers and the Internet are handy tools, but like any other fucking tool, they’re not safe for children to use unsupervised. If you don’t feel that you can watch your child every fucking second of the day, then GET YOUR FAT FUCKING ARSE OFF THE COUCH, STOP WATCHING TODAY TONIGHT, AND FUCKING MONITOR WHAT YOUR CHILDREN ARE FUCKING DOING. SOUND LIKE TOO MUCH EFFORT? THEN DON’T FUCKING WELL LET YOUR KIDS USE THE DAMNED THING. DO WE NEED TO PUT FUCKING MASSIVE WARNING LABELS ON COMPUTERS SO THAT YOU KNOW THAT BAD THINGS CAN FUCKING HAPPEN? IF WE DID DO THAT WOULD YOU EVEN FUCKING READ THEM? IF YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO USE A NAIL GUN SAFELY WOULD YOU LET YOUR 10 YEAR OLD PLAY AROUND WITH IT UNSUPERVISED? I DON’T FUCKING THINK SO.

WHEN DID THE WORLD GET SO FUCKING DENSE? WHEN DID COMMON SENSE GET SO FUCKING RARE? SINCE WHEN DID CLAIMING TO BE AN EXPERT ON SOMETHING ACTUALLY MAKE IT SO? WHEN WILL EVERYONE GET JUST SO SANE THAT I CAN STOP YELLING PROFANITIES AT YOU ALL? WILL ANY OF THESE QUESTIONS BE LESS RHETORICAL? I FUCKING HATE YOU ALL!

YOU FAT BASTARDS.

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Lining up for free stuff

by on Jul.30, 2010, under CABBAGE, corporate whores, FABULOUS PRIZES!, Free stuff!, lining up for fun and profit

In cities all across the country, people are standing in line. They are standing in the cold, in the rain, and into the small hours of the morning. They are all waiting for something; something big. Hundreds of people with no other connection are banding together, waiting through the night hoping to get their hands on something before any of their friends. The lines stretch back for streets, competing stores attracting hoards of people with their wares.

What could drive people to such lengths? What could cause so many people to abandon their common sense and warm beds in the middle of the week? Only one thing known to man could inspire this type of devotion.

Free stuff.

Walking through the streets of Melbourne, I saw hundreds of people lined up to get free things. Yellow scalves, hot coffees, and apparently even cakes were handed out to punters who couldn’t wait for more. On the other side of the street were people holding free blue and white umbrellas, and waiting. Free stuff unites people.

Of course not all free stuff is free. Some people will be spending hundreds, even thousands of dollars just to be able to get free things. This just goes to show how important free things are to some people.

By a strange coincidence, Apple is releasing a new phone at midnight, which seems like a shameless cross promotion. They are preying on the hundreds of people who want nothing more than to get free merchandise from their favorite telephone company. Sadly some of these poor people will fall to this expensive coup.

Happily some punters came prepared. They left their cash in the mattress and their wallets at home. This is the only way to be sure that your free stuff isn’t going to end up costing you down the line.

As I sit here writing this I shed a tear for those poor souls who will leave the line clutching a new phone and a 24 month contract. I hope that you still have room in your hands for a complimentary t-shirt. May you lose your phone on the way home, and get a free balloon.

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Guest Post: Ben Pobjie on hating things

by on Jul.29, 2010, under Celebrity gossip, Guest Posts, TRUTH

Know what I hate? Of course you don’t, and it’d be pretty presumptuous of you to think that you do, unless you’re psychic, and you’re not, because nobody is, and people who say they are are something I really hate. But that’s not what I was hating in the first sentence back there, I was hating something else, which I guess just goes to show one very important fact: I hate an awful lot of things. Hundreds, in fact, one of which is positive attitudes towards life.

But the one thing I hate that I am choosing to focus on is this:

Successful people.

In essence, my message is, Successful people? What the fuck?

Now, before you say, “Oh Ben, don’t be so negative, that’s just sour grapes”, I should point out one thing: you are a dick and should shut your stupid face.

The subject occurred to me the other day when I was reading an article about Rove McManus, and how his planned talk show with Valerie Bertinelli has failed to get picked up by a network in the US.

The first point to make, of course, is what the sulphur-crested fuck was Rove thinking when he decided the best entrée to the American market would be a talk show with Valerie Bertinelli? Never in the history of mankind has a human being ever used the phrase, “Hey, why doesn’t Valerie Bertinelli have a talk show? I’d watch that.” Never in the history of mankind has a human being ever used the phrase, “Can’t wait to hear what Valerie Bertinelli thinks about this.” And never in the history of mankind has a human being used the phrase, “Rove and Valerie: an unstoppable combination.” Seriously? A talk show with Valerie Bertinelli? Are you insane? What’s your next move, a cooking show with Bruce Boxleitner?

But that aside, what struck me reading this story was just how happy I was to find out Rove had failed. I was ecstatic.

And it’s not because I dislike Rove. I quite like him. I’ve even watched his show, occasionally. He’s a very likeable fellow. It’s nothing personal at all.

It’s just that I hate other people being successful. More successful than me, that is. Up to my level of success, I wish you every happiness. Surpass me, and I hate you. And this applies in particular to Australians. I can cope with Americans and British people and Italians fulfilling their dreams – just – but when Australians do it, it just gets right on my frigging wick.

Because when people from overseas are more successful than you, you can always say, “well, it’s hard to make it, when you’re Australian, stuck here in such a remote location without access to international markets”. But when Australians make it, it shows that it IS possible, it’s just that you’re not good enough. And frankly, I consider the inadvertent exposure of other people’s inadequacies through one’s own completely innocent actions to be the height of fucking rudeness.

You know what I’m talking about. You know when you have a friend who asks you to act as a reference for his job interview, and when the employer calls you, and you tell them your friend is a meth addict? Or when your friend starts a relationship with a beautiful, sweet girl, and you send her a letter detailing all the children he’s sexually violated?

Oh, you’ve never done that? You fucking liar. We all do it from time to time, when those close to us look like achieving more than we have. I work so hard every day, purely because my sisters have failed to be junkies or single mothers. If only my family was full of failures I could relax, but no, I have to bust a gut because they insist on giving me competition for my parents’ love.

And successful Australians have a similar effect. They’re too close. When an Australian hits it big, it says hey, even ordinary Australians can do extraordinary things. Pisses me off something fierce. Because of course they CAN, but they probably WON’T. I won’t. You won’t. And one of the reasons we won’t is because there is a finite amount of places in the world for successful people, and that Aussie bastard’s just taken up another one of them.

So that’s why I felt a warm, oozy feeling of relief when I found Rove’s latest effort to go global had failed. If his talk show with Valerie Bertinelli (pffffffffffffffft) had succeeded, I don’t know what I would have done. I would have been desolate. Like I am every time I hear about Naomi Watts’s latest movie, or Adam Hills’s sell-out Edinburgh show, or anything Matthew Fucking Reilly does.

So to all you people out there succeeding, achieving ambitions and scaling heights: fuck you. Fuck you right in the ear. You’re ruining my life, and you’re doing it with a smarmy goddamn smile on your face. Stop it. Right now.

Ben Pobjie

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Live every day like it’s your last

by on Jul.28, 2010, under CABBAGE, FABULOUS PRIZES!, HAHAHAHA YORE, Has anyone really been far as decided to use even go want to do look more like?, Heroes, how are you today?, Self help advice, Sparkly fuckstains, STOP PUNCHING ME IN THE FACE, The one who calls wolf quite often

That’s the advice you’ll get from me! Live EVERY DAY like it’s your last day alive! Don’t hold back, just do it! You might die today, and have all these things left undone. It will torment you forever!

So it is all well and good to talk about living every day like it’s your last, but what does it really mean? Well that depends on how you want to be remembered. Do you want everyone to remember you fondly, and gather around occasionally to share the good memories? Well in that case, you need to die from a horrible terminal disease. Current popular ways to die are AIDS, cancer, or pretty much anything which is gradual, painful death. This gives people a chance to gather around you, while making it difficult for you to ruin the happy image that you want people to remember by being, well, you.

“But wait,” you say, “I don’t have the AIDS! How am I meant to pull this off?”

Well the answer is simple. Stay in bed all day, refuse to eat, and take heavy pain killers. You will develop a sickly pallor, be very vague, and lose muscle mass. Tell everyone that you don’t want to cause a fuss to anyone, least of all the medical system. The longer you are in this state, the more people will talk about how strong you are, fighting off the horrible disease. Of course, if you stick around too long, people will start to wonder. They will try to bring in nurses and doctors; after a while you won’t be able to turn them down, as you won’t have much of an idea what is going on any more. If this eventually happens, it is probably best to wander off while no-one is looking, and try to start a new life somewhere else. You could also try the miraculous recovery route, which lets you move into all sorts of fields like motivational speaking.

What if you don’t really care how people remember you? Well do I have the plan for you! You see, there is a little thing in this world called inhibition. It’s what stops you from doing what you want when you want. It’s what keeps you afraid that tomorrow will be another day, and that you will have to live through it. Happily, when you are living your final day, this inhibition is pretty useless, meaning that you can do whatever you want. So when you are living like it’s the last day you’ll be alive, all you have to do is drop all inhibitions. At a bakery? Think that eating four meat pies, three doughnuts, and a half-dozen caramel slices might not be a good idea? Well just go for it! You won’t be alive tomorrow to regret it!

Don’t have the money to pay for all of it? Who cares! Punch the baker in the face, and take keep eating. There’s no need to run away, or rob them, because you won’t be alive tomorrow. Just keep doing whatever you want. It doesn’t matter! After this, you should go to the pub. Have a few drinks, and pay for nothing. You’ll probably be dead tomorrow, so you are just trying to make the most of the limited time you have left. Who cares it it is 10AM? If it’s later, then you are already wasting your precious time.

Once you are drunk, that should help you to drop the last few inhibitions that you may be holding on to. Track down any girls (or boys) that you ever had a thing for. This is the last day you will have a chance, so you better not waste it! Remember to shout “Surprise!” when they see you, and if you still have clothes on at this point, then that’s more time wasted.

Call everyone who cares about you, and tell them exactly how you feel. It doesn’t matter if you make them cry, because they are fat and deserve to know it, besides they’ll be the only ones around to feel like jerks tomorrow; this is the last day that you are alive! Call the step father who touched you at night; tell him that you had herpes then, and he has it now. Call your mother and tell her that she ruined your life for not getting you that ultra-deluxe BMX when you were seven. Today is all about you, because this is the absolute last day you’ll get to live!

That is what it means to live every day like it’s your last. Of course, you will wake up the next day, but you just have to keep doing the same thing. You probably won’t be alive for much longer anyway.

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Guest Post: Shopping Centre Car Parks

by on Jul.27, 2010, under FUCK FUCK FUCK I HATE EVERYONE, Guest Posts, MOTHERFUCKER

Dear People who drive against the arrows in shopping centre car parks.

I do appreciate that the arrows are fairly pointless and at the best arbitrary, does anyone really think that some shopping centre manager has worked out the flow of the traffic? of course not. Lets face it they are all failed real estate agents or former managers of fast food places and as such unquestionably dim.

What shits me is the range of reactions you get when you turn with the arrow and some pedant is coming the other direction straight at you.

You get

a) the embarrassed oops i didn’t mean to do this oh look at silly little me reaction which is accompanied by a stupid arse smile, an insulting shrug of the shoulders and occasionally a mouthed sorry.

b) the complete blind i can’t see you reaction as if the person is trying to act like nothing much has happened. Often practiced by the old who also use the I have had a long and worthwhile life and so be allowed to do whatever selfish action I like pose

c) the glare of how dare you go with the arrows and get in my way. This is usually done by the people driving the ironically named four wheel drive (and usually have prams which are way too big.)

I won’t mention the people who give you a cheery wave as they cruise past, they will find their place in hell with out my assistance.

It is these people, non conformists to shopping carpark etiquette, who are throwing our society into anarchy and all should either be rammed by your car or at the very least leave your trolley right behind their car when you have finished unloading it.

That will serve the fucktards right

Regards
Captain Angry Ranty Pants

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Surviving Australia – Everything you need to know

by on Jul.26, 2010, under Hello, how are you today?, TRUTH

Whether you are a tourist or a recent immigrant, Australia can be a difficult place to understand. The rules are complex, confusing, and even if you follow them, someone might still beat you up for looking funny. Luckily, there’s only a few things that you need to know to survive in this country. Even better, I’m willing to tell you those few things. I’ll start with the country itself, and work up to the people who call it home.

The land

Australia is a large place. We have more land per capita than most other developed countries. The reason that it is this way is because the land is mostly unusable, murderous, wasteland. Most of our tourism is based around the idea of escaping from this vast, brown, death hole. The two major experiences you will get while visiting Australia for recreation will be either: survive the outback (if you can, but you probably can’t), or try to swim away (before the ocean kills you, which it probably will). The local population usually tries to avoid doing either of these things, because they consider them indescribably dangerous, and pretty stupid to boot.

The water

Australia is an island nation. As our national anthem proudly proclaims, we are girt by sea. There is no way to get to any other country without somehow facing the water. Like most things to do with Australia, the surrounding sea is a desolate wasteland teeming with interesting ways to die. If you head north, there are jellyfish, sting rays, sharks, more jelly fish, blue ringed octopus, stone fish, even more jelly fish, and even some sharks. To the south, there’s mostly sharks, but they are bigger and angrier sharks. There’s little reason to go south, though, because the only places you could get are Antarctica, New Zealand, or Tasmania. Some astute observers may point out that Tasmania is officially part of Australia, but we only keep it around so that politicians have a testing ground that the general population doesn’t care about. There are also many rivers and lakes in Australia, which largely serve the purpose of harboring crocodiles. The best advice about water that a tourist can receive is “Stay away from it, it’s trying to kill you.”

The plants

After hearing about the general inhospitable nature of both the land and the sea, most people assume that all the plants in Australia are poisonous. This is largely not the case. Just being poisonous would be far too easy for any self-respecting plant, so instead, Australian plants have developed a way to survive on very little water. This may not seem like a bad trait until you consider every other country in the world, where plant life usually implies that water is close by. If you happen to get lost in the bush, most people would be tempted to seek out a grove of trees, hoping to find something to drink. In Australia, you will soon find that doing this will just result in you finding disappointment. As you lie, dying of thirst on the rocks by the roots of a large grey gum, you will hear the leaves stirred by a gentle breeze. Your last, dying thought, is how much it sounds like laughter. If you do happen to find water, there is a very good chance that there is a crocodile watching you, waiting for you to get close.

The animals

The only thing you need to know about the native animals in Australia is this: they can all kill you, and probably will, just for the fun of it. Not only do we have most of the world’s most venomous snakes and spiders, but even the cute fury animals are dangerous. A kangaroo can tear open your stomach with it’s hind legs; a platypus has poison sacks, and a bad attitude; and let’s just hope that you never meet a pissed off wombat. In fact, the least dangerous creature is the super intelligent echidna, which happens to be covered in spines that are so sharp that they can pierce your skin by looking at them. As mentioned earlier, the water-bound animals are just as deadly, and probably twice as angry. In a cruel twist of government, most of the native animals in Australia are protected species, meaning that you couldn’t kill them even if they were eating your family. The only animals which you can legally hunt are the ones which, since being introduced, learned that the only way to survive is to breed faster than they can be killed off.

The people

The people of Australia are generally trusting and friendly. The majority of them work hard, love to drink, and will lend a hand whenever someone is in trouble. The rest of them just love to drink. The second group, largely known variously as bogans, bevans, westies, or yobbos, are prone to violent outbursts, and should be largely avoided by the wary traveler. They are distrustful of anyone different from themselves, which is only amplified by the consumption of alcohol. If you find yourself surrounded by an angry group of these bogans, your best defense is to try to distract them. A little known fact is that the only thing bogans hate more than foreigners, is a bogan from another state. For example, if you are in Queensland, the bogans will likely stop beating you if you can make them think that either a Victorian, or better yet, someone from New South Wales is nearby. For New South Wales, try Victorian, or Queenslander. If you are in Victora, then try Queensland or New South Wales. If you aren’t sure where the bogans are from, then the safe bet is always to try to convince them that there is a Tasmanian nearby.

The language

Speaking to an Australian involves some creativity. Full words are rarely, if ever, used in conversation. There is a simple pattern to follow, though, so that what you say can be understood.

  • Names longer than three letters should be shortened, then add an ‘o’ or a ‘zza’ onto the end. e.g. Steven should become Stevo, Wally should become Wazza.
  • Names that are three letters or less should be extended with an ‘o’. e.g. Ben should become Benno, Tim should become Timmo.
  • Anyone with red hair should be called “Blue”
  • Vowels are important, but most consonants are optional. e.g. “Australia” should be pronounced “Austraaaya”
  • The majority of the vocabulary is a mixture of rhyming slang, shortenings, and in-jokes. e.g. Tommo hit the frog and toad, then chucked a mainy back to the bottlo. (Tom left by road, before doing a u-turn and proceeding back to the alcohol store.)

That is about all you need to know to be able to survive in Australia. The one last tip to remember, if you ever find yourself cornered by bogans in a pub; the way to turn the entire situation around is a simple phrase: “My shout”.

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Censoring the Internet – what you need to know.

by on Jul.23, 2010, under CABBAGE, CUNTS, FUCK FUCK FUCK I HATE EVERYONE, FUCKING RIOTS?!, Has anyone really been far as decided to use even go want to do look more like?, Hello, horoscopes, How did this become 'The Birds' slash-fiction?, Illuminati, MOTHERFUCKER, REDACTED REDACTED REDACTED, SHUT UP, STOP IT, TRUTH, VIN FUCKING DIESEL

Today I would like to talk about Internet Censorship. After talking to my legal department, however, it has been decided that some of the conversation may spark unwanted knowledge, which could affect the course of this blog. In response, I have taken the liberty of removing all these nonsense bits which could make you think, and leaving just the basic, easy to digest parts of the conversation. Here we go.

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Monarchy for the modern age

by on Jul.22, 2010, under CABBAGE, Celebrity gossip, Royalty, Stories for children

Do we still need a queen? Are we be a better country because oh the monarchy? Are the royals really that useful any more? These are questions which show up every now and then, and no-one ever has an answer. The problem is that no-one is quite sure what the royals are for.

They used to be rulers, but now there’s an elected government that does that. They’re even less relevant here in Australia where they are still our royal family, but never set foot in our country. We have a family whose sole purpose is to sit around, be aloof, and steal helicopters. The only royal who ever actually did anything was married into the family, and couldn’t even handle a high-speed collision with a wall.

Pathetic.

People don’t want to get rid of the royal family, though. They’ve been there for as long as anyone can remember, and really they’re the only thing separating us from becoming America. What we do need, though, is a better breed of royal. We need to reverse the inbreeding that has resulted in two princes who look more like Ron Weasley than any Disney prince ever did. We need to bring some manliness, some rough-and-tumble, some facial hair (Queen, excepted) back into the royal family. We need monarchs for the modern age.

I envisage my perfect King to be a kind of Die Hard, Bruce Willis type. Making wise cracks while kicking arse. The kind of king who would go to America and kick their arse for ruining the language. I think he also needs some lasers. Maybe even a cool car.

The Queen should be a motherly, but still kinda hot. I want my queen to make witty comments that put politicians in their place. She should care about the good of the people, and also be a rally driver. That would give her an excuse to travel the globe to exotic locations, and conquer them all with a sweet four wheel drift. Oh, and she should be able to make things explode just by looking at them.

The princes should be great guys who loved nothing more than hanging out with the lads, and flying helicopters. The current princes are kind of like this, but maybe we could change their hair colour to a more manly black, or dark brown. Oh, and wherever they go, they should have free beer. They’ll also give every guy they meet free money, and a cool car. They won’t need to give women anything because they’ll faint as soon as one of the princes smiles. Also, it would be cool if the princes were half robot.

The princess should be an expert at karate, because she constantly has to fight off ninjas. She’s also really good at computers, and acting. She should play bass, and have a bunch of tattoos. She can also do a back flip, and does whenever anyone asks, even if she’s just done a back flip. It would be really cool if she could shoot fire out of her eyes when she gets angry, or like, sees a kitten in trouble.

I think that this is pretty much the best royal family you could ever get, and I think that if we all chipped in a few dollars, we could totally set this up. The royal’s time has come, and now is time for the Super Royal Action Force EXTREME. Also, if anyone spells it “X-TREME”, then the Queen will crush their head between her thighs. No-one will ever be sure if it is meant to be a reward or a punishment, and she’ll never say.

Oh, and the King will decree that cabbage is now the dirtiest of swear words in all languages ever. Then he’ll release a number one world wide hit where he just screams “CABBAGE” at the top of his lungs until people’s brains explode.

I wonder if Kim Jong Il is free…

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“No body likes you, everybody hates you, so shut the cunt up and get back in the hole” – excerpts from my best selling kids books

by on Jul.21, 2010, under Heroes, kids books, Sparkly fuckstains, Stories for children, Why can't I find a publisher?

“Who the fuck let you out?” screamed Miffy the bunny. “Whoever it was will have their face raped off by my daggercock hound, and he just got a sharpening.”

Miffy eyed the other Fluffy Friends suspiciously for a while, looking for the slightest flinch of betrayal, before turning back to her prisoner.

“You should know that there will be severe consequences for attempting to escape. You should know by now that you will never get out until I get what I want.”

Suddenly Miffy lashed out with her powerful back feet and tore a large gash in Snow White’s face.

“I don’t know who let you escape, but they’ll fucking regret it too, bitch. Now get back in the fucking hole before I tear out you r throat.”

With a final kick right in the ovaries, Snow White was pushed back into the hole.

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It had been three days since the orgy, and Peter Possum still couldn’t see straight.

“I shouldn’t have licked my semen back out of Helen Herpes’ cunt,” he thought to himself. “These scabs are really starting to affect my vision.”

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“Some things cannot be unseen,” sobbed little Timmy Parker, slowly raising the gun to his temple.

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“Man this heroin is top notch! We should have bought from Pastor Steve earlier!”

“Hugh blugh blugh,” murmured John.

“Oh man, are you wasted already? I guess that this is what I get for shooting up with fucking amateurs. If you OD, I’m not fucking taking you to the hospital, you cunt.”

—————————————

No-one answered the door. Billy didn’t really expect that anyone would any more. After the bomb went off, there were less and less living people around.

Those who survived the initial blast had been slowly dying from radiation poisoning. Survivors were rare, but he still knocked on doors just in case.

He jimmied the door open, thinking to himself “If they’re dead, then I need their stuff more than they do; if they’re not, then they will be soon enough.”

Billy remembered his father. He would probably never forget him; no-one ever forgot their first kill.

“The cunt had it coming, though. He never bought me the action man deluxe set.”

If he told himself that enough times he could almost bring himself to believe it. This was a fuck of a world to be a nine year old in.

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Edward sat around moping. Why did he even like her? She wasn’t that pretty, but there was just something about her that he couldn’t get over.

Maybe it was the neck brace, or maybe it was her down syndrome, or maybe it was just the fact that even if she could say “no”, she wouldn’t understand what was going on.

Whatever it was, Edward was fascinated with her, and tonight he intended to make her his.

He felt the sack cloth. Soft, yet strong. It shouldn’t catch on her brace, and should block out the light pretty well.

“I still have things to prepare, I should stop dawdling,” he thought to himself. He picked up the next knife and went back to the grinding stone.

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