Skip to main content

Rumours Of My Death Have Been Greatly Exagerrated

They've been away on holiday (yes, a-fucking-gain) and me and Knocker have been confined to Stalag 45. So there's been a distinct lack of blogging going on. (they won't let me use my iPad in Stalag 45 "for security reasons"). If that wasn't bad enough, when me Mum and Dad finally got round to coming home me Dad hit upon this brilliant new idea. To make walkies easier for him (fuck me), he's only gone and bought a length of chain about 3 feet long which attaches to the end of the flexi lead. This means that he only needs one hand to hold the lead (the lazy fucking twat). It also means that I'm permanently never more than 3 feet away from Nutjob on any walk we now go on. That's like me being in one of those prison-break movies. The sort where the nice bloke, wrongly convicted of murdering his wife (like in Shawshank) gets chained to some homicidal maniac, like Hannibal Lector or Reggie Kray. When the prison van accidentally crashes, the good guy (me) and "Regibal" escape but are unfortunately chained together. Nice guy then has to run in time with Psycho (which is aright fucking pain). Nice guy wants to go to the police station to prove his innocence. Regibal wants to kill labradors, eat their liver (with a nice Chianti) and chop them up into bin bags and have me help him chuck the dismembered body parts off Putney Bridge. That's what an average day's walk for me is like at the moment. Still, I did piss on his head today.

Popular posts from this blog

Fucking Passwords

Create a password..... cabbage Sorry, the password must be more than 8 characters.... boiled cabbage Sorry, the password must contain 1 numerical character. 1 boiled cabbage Sorry, the password cannot have blank spaces. 50fuckingboiledcabbages Sorry, the password must contain at least one upper case character. 50FUCKINGboiledcabbages Sorry, the password cannot use more than one upper case character consecutively. 50FuckingBoiledCabbagesShovedUpYourArse,IfYouDon'tGiveMeAccessImmediatelyYouTwats Sorry, the password cannot contain punctuation. NowIAmGettingReallyPissedOff50FuckingBoiledCabbagesShovedUpYourArseIfYou DontGiveMeAccessImmediatelyYouTwats Sorry, that password is already in use! See  Fucking phone calls too
Read more

My Mate Frank

Is a sheepdog and his two-legged is a farmer. Frank was out with him in the tractor drilling wheat last autumn and they unearthed a rusty old lamp. So the farmer hopped out of the cab to have a closer look at it and gave it a little rub on his jacket, as you do, and was amazed to see a genie appear and offer to grant him any wish he wanted. Well the farmer thought for a moment and then said "I'd like the price of wheat to go to £200/tonne!" So the genie sighed but said "OK, I'll sort that out for you then, you greedy bastard" and popped back into his bottle. And the farmer casually tossed the lamp into the back of his cab and got on with his drilling. Well they were out again this morning putting a bit of nitrogen on, Frank and the farmer, and the farmer spotted the lamp and gave it a little rub again, just on the off chance, and you'll never guess what happened, the genie popped out again, and said that he'd grant the farmer one more wish. So the fa...
Read more

RIP Frank Carson

It's a little known fact that Frank Carson actually got into comedy purely by chance. When he was a young man, he was a church bell-ringer in Northern Ireland, but he was so bad at it that every time he rang the bells, everyone immediately burst out laughing. It was the way he tolled them. Pooh count: two, and one of them a cracker that has your name on it Frankie. You can pick it up from Pearly Gates reception on your way in.
Read more