Enough Already

Princess Diana, queen of hearts, was discovered dead today, a coroner confirms. Cause of death appears to have been asphyxiation, however, the princess had received several large abrasions to the head and torso. Early rumours claim that her body was unearthed from six feet of dirt.

She was discovered when guards were alerted to someone loitering with a spade in the grounds of Kensington palace. As the two guards approached they discovered that the man, one Adam I. Lily, had removed several layers of dirt from the ground, exposing the coffin, I mean box, and was proceeding to remove his underwear. Mr Lily was taken into custody for questioning and is likely to be charged later this week.

The princess, who had been living in subterranean quarters for the past 13 years, provided much charitable work towards the ruination of Britain’s monarch. She has also been linked to several conspiracy theories. Little is known of her current sex life, though it is widespread knowledge that she’s ‘dirty’.

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Attempted rape in a toilet…

…for all I know his sole intention was merely a handshake in a public urinal. Is that common practice?

So, where should I start, I suppose not at the very beginning, as little happened for a while. No, I’ll start with the day my – our – journey, adventure, began.

Well, It’s approximately 9am in Sydney, Australia – I discovered that there’s a Sydney in Canada to which I was completely oblivious. We’ve been milling around in Balgowlah on Sydney’s northern beaches, just up from Manly, for a few weeks now. It’s February 1st. A few days ago myself and my travel companion – for the purposes of this blog he shall be known as Paul – decided we’d done Sydney. Sydney was over with and it was time to push on. So, opting to lessen our carbon footprint, we’ve decided to cycle to Melbourne; We’re not particularly prepared. I think, food wise, we’ve just got a lot of pasta and weetabix…and some raisins. Though I left that bit to Paul, I have got us a map, but I’ve not quite worked out which roads we can cycle on yet.

The other day, the day after we got our bikes we cycled from Balgowlah into the city – Sydney. Our purpose was to pick up a tent; never happened. We did cycle across Harbour Bridge, the view was astounding, really quite something. It didn’t cross either of our minds that there’s a cycle path, we just opted to follow the cars. It resulted in a lot of people hollering “DICK HEADS” at us, one even flew off the phrase “Out of towner”, to my particular delight.

We’re going to take a route which will encompass 1500miles of terrain; we’re not entirely sure what that terrain’s made up of; we’re not sure if there are any uphills involved. In all honesty we are completely oblivious to what we are facing. A lot of the people – locals – that we have met in Sydney are telling us we wont make it, that we’ll die of dehydration, etc. etc. These are the same locals that are petrified of the sun to such an extent that they rarely venture out of the shade, and when they do you can see a childish sense of rebelliousness pulsing through their bodies, as though they’re sending a big “fuck you” to the sun. To reach a conclusion, Paul and myself are ignoring those people. I’ve checked the web, seems a fairly common practice ride. I asked a man in a bike shop he said “yeah mate, doable, though that fella out there smoking might find it ‘ard”. That “fella” out there was Paul. I’m optimistic.

Well, it’s just after 2am. First day is over. Our target was a pleasant campsite in Royal National Park; we’re actually camped in a small piece of woodland just off the Princess Highway. Our target was 80miles; We’ve done 30miles. Paul’s described our ramshackle camp spot: “Blair Witch territory”. I’d say today has been forgettable, definitely forgettable. Oh yes, we realised about 4hours ago we haven’t got anything to sleep on, we’ve got the tent to sleep in, but that’s it.

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Youth of…

Last week, whilst festering around the local crèche waiting to collect my nephew, I discovered (perhaps not to my surprise) that today’s ‘modern’ child has an unusually high sex drive for such an undeveloped creature. I decided that my general concern and intrigue had to be quelled. With my genitalia firmly strapped down and out of sight I opted to loiter by the perimeter fence of the local tuck shop (hub of the young and raunchy) under the guise of a blind man and his dog. Of course, ideas of ramming young Jane during recess weren’t all that filled these prematurely chauvinistic minds, so too did a sense of inQuire. Before long, Oliver (age 6 from Margate) came rattling the fences and questioning me of my business.

Well, my sex drive is massive. However, the inability to sustain an erection is somewhat of a quandary, in fact to garner an erection in the first place is problematic.” At this stage I was surprised by how formal and eloquent a 6-year-old could be. “The method I’ve employed to help me in this matter is to tape two untrimmed lollipop sticks to my elephantine wang.”

When I asked the female sucklings what prompted this move to early sexual development the answers always came back the same: “Reading Jacqueline Wilson helped improve both my vocabulary and my realisation that slag culture promotes the ideal of the intelligent, independent woman.”

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Instructional Video

Ever wondered what to cook your loved ones at Easter?

A film By…Myself and Paul Willialms

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