Consistently Failing to Di

Hello one and all, and may I say how nice to welcome back some much-missed fellow bolonauts. Having seen the sterling efforts of the bolotariat (tenuous…) I started to feel a little guilty about my lack of post-age recently, so despite the real risk of contaminating a page of some pretty epic posts with mindless dross I thought I ‘d better get something up there, whatever the quality.

Given the date, and its accompanying puce-faced spitting fits from my friends the tabloids, I was going to spray bile about the reeking liquid bullshit that wells up from somewhere under Harlow every time the anniversary passes of some silly doe-eyed toff who married another toff that she knew full well preferred shagging horses getting into a car with a drunken Frenchman and the spoilt son of a glorified minimart owner with a craving for passports and ending up with her brains doing a Jackson Pollock on the windscreen. And then I thought, that’s old hat old boy – save your bile for digesting last night’s Aloo Gobi – it would only have been done proper justice at the time, when nothing would have cut through Blair’s triumphal grave-stamping than a savage indictment of the collective flower-throwing lunacy of a formerly dignified people whose lives somehow allowed enough time to ignore real tragedy and hardship and ‘grieve’ over what they failed to spot was nothing more than the sparkly caricature that the world’s press and her PR monkeys began crafting as soon as Charlie bit her while dancing in America.

That missed opportunity still rankles in quieter moments, but I know that it could never have happened while my 17-year-old brain was mounting a desperate and vicious rearguard against anything that dared to try and capture it and put it to use, such as A-level coursework, and negotiating those whatsits with tits that made my thingy go funny.

So, with bile swallowed, and having turned up on my pancreas’s doorstep like a cat thrown out in the rain for pissing in the piano, I began to feel a little sick. But at least I got some words on the screen without mentioning Madeleine McCann, or saying cunt, bestiality or kiddie porn and hence avoiding all the nasty spam that could have been generated by doing so. Groover will be pleased. Auf Wiedersehen

3 Responses

  1. breakingstein says:

    ha ha! naughty! this site is going to gradually become a spam magnet

  2. Bennie says:

    Too relevant to miss….

    May be a new site to some, but, beware – it will creep into your favourites and melt your mind.

  3. Groover says:

    I rejoice in the doom that you fuckers bring me.

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