The Pope

Pope Benedict XVI. The P-Man. Eggs Benedict. B-Bop. The Popenator. The Pontiff. The Breakfast Popetart. The P-Diddler. Whatever you want to call him, there is no doubt that today, February 28th, 2013, will be remembered forever because of him. Today is the day the Pope stepped down.

It's a historic day, the first Pope to resign by choice since Pope Celestine V in 1294 (also know as Celestine the quitter). You see, the Pope gig is usually one you take for life, well, the last bit of your life anyway. When, at orientation, they give you your key card and measure you for your robe, they also send the measurements to a carpenter, get a head start on that coffin. You are not going to be there very long: it's the Catholic version of managing Chelsea.

The role of Pope is suposed to be a calling from God, you should not take that call lightly,

*Ring Ring. Ring Ring*

The Pope: Go for Joe!

God: Hey

P: Hi, who's this?

G: IT'S THE BIG GUY. THE TOP HAT. KING OF THE CASTLE

P: Who is this?!

G :It's God

P: Ahhh, God, good to hear from you. You know I was starting to believe that you didn't exist, you know, cos you never answer anyone's prayers and the world seems such a horrible place, with everybody killing each other in your name, you know?

G: I know, I know, I've been super busy. I am a busy, busy, busy guy. Have you seen The Wire? It's amazing, just got through Breaking Bad too, wow, just incredible writing.

P: No, actually i've been really busy trying to spread your word here on earth.

G: OMG! You have to see The Wire, it's awesome. Awesome!!

P: Okay, anyway, did you call me for a reason?

G: Sure did. I want you to be the new Pope.

P: Me? Really? Wow, that's a huge honour.

G: You bet your sweet ass it is. 

P: So that's it, I'm gonna be Pope? What about the concourse and the election?

G: It's a done deal. I've rigged the election.

P: You rig elections?

G: Sure, all the time. Who do you think taught Robbie-G all his tricks?

P: Robbie-G? You mean Robert Mugabe?

G: Shhhhhhhhh, you heard nothing. Anyway, will you take the job?

P: Absolutely, anything for you.

G: Excellent, you'll do a great job, just remember that the job is for life, and that condoms spread AIDs.

P: Condoms spread AIDs, got it. Wait, job for life? What?

G: Gotta go. I'm Audi 5000. Laters!!

But our Pope went against God's wishes and decided to resign. As a rich, older, powerful man that enjoys telling women what they can and can't do with their body's, he seems like a shoe-in to play Christian Grey in the Fifty Shades film, although in light of recent allegations against the church, it would be out of character for a Catholic to be filmed having sex with a woman.

Anyway, it's over. He's gone. Doing nothing six days a week, travelling around at 4 mph in a motorised cart, and going to church on Sundays, and now he has to retire, my prayers are with him through this difficult transition in to retirement.

Diary of Anastasia Steele

06/07/12
Diary of Anastasia Steele


He stared at me, holding my gaze for what seemed like an eternity. There was an inevitability about what was to come next, yet he made me wait. My skin tingled with the anticipation of his touch. Staring.Waiting. I just wanted him to make his move. To make me his. He tilted his head. I closed my eyes and softly draped my arms around his neck, awaiting the feel of his lips on mine. It didn't come. I felt his breath red hot on my neck. I squirm where I stand, my heart was racing, my whole body was just waiting for him to pounce. It seemed like an age, the slow rhythm of his breath was in such stark contrast to mine. He was in control, I was ready to lose all mine.

Then, with a steely purpose, he whispers, "You're going to do everything I say". He firmly grabs my arms with his hands. I feel even more vulnerable when I see my wrists engulfed in his grip. He could take me and break me, instead he removes my arms from around his neck, raises them over my head, and presses them against the wall. One huge hand now pinning me there, he takes his other, cups my face and  raises my head to his. His lips part and he plants them firmly on mine. I feel his tongue begin to explore my mouth, I slowly massage his with mine. Just then he removes his hand from my face, grazes it down my side, and thrusts it up my skirt. My underwear stuck to the wet, hot mess that he had created. He moved it aside and began to stroke my sex. His tongue and fingers synchronised in their ability to bring forth such all-consuming delight.

Suddenly he stopped. I opened my eyes to see what was wrong. Again, he just stared. Those silver eyes piercing. My mind was awash with what to say, but I couldn't think properly. With just his tongue and the feel of his hand he had rendered all my other functions useless. He moved his hand to my face, he parted my lips with his thumb, he probed my mouth and pressed down on my tongue, "I want you to taste me". I close my eyes and sucked.

With his thumb still in my mouth, he wrapped the rest of his expansive hand around my head, and brought me to my knees. He removed his hand, brushed my hair away from my face and began to open his pants. Is this happening? I've never done this before! What if I don't do it right?! I steadied myself by putting my hand on his thighs. His pants undone, I slowly pulled them down to reveal a considerable bulge in his boxers. Surely it was an illusion. It couldn't be that big, could it? I took a deep breath and pulled his boxers down, it sprung free. I was open-mouthed, aghast at it's magnitude. Grey wasted no time, he grabbed my head, forced my mouth around him and said "Just like that". At first he moved my head back and forth, showing me how it was done, but my inner goddess learns quickly. Taking him to the back of my throat, running my lips down his ample length. At one point I looked up at him, swirling my tongue around his head with the dexterity of an Olympic gymnast. At that moment he looked deep into my eyes, different than before. He looked at me with awe. In that moment he wanted me and only me. I was his and he was mine. I took him deeper again. I never knew giving pleasure could feel so good. I wanted more. I wanted more of him. I wanted all of him. Then he grabbed my head, firmer than before, he pressed me deep into his pelvis. I could feel him hard against the back of my throat. He poured in to me, he gave me everything. He paused for a moment, then yanked my head back, and dragged me to my feet. He kissed me hard. My mouth still warm with him.

"Your turn" he exclaimed. And with that he picked me up, threw me over his shoulder and marched down the hall. He slammed me onto his bed.

"Take your clothes off.........slowly".

I began to slowly disrobe. He stood watching. Still. I watched as his eyes traced my outline, widening with each item I removed. He seemed captivated by me. Me, the girl with the wayward hair. Me, the girl with eyes slightly too big for her face. Me. Only me. I removed my underwear, my wet sex glistening in the light.I lay there.

"Close your eyes and don't move" - I did as he said. It seemed like an age, but the wait did nothing to fan the fire burning in me. I would've led there forever but my goddess was impatient. She had just been awakened to this wonderful new elixir and she was thirsty for more. Just as I was about to get up, I felt Grey's hands on my ankles. He roughly thrust my legs apart. His left hand slowly moved up the outside of my leg, he grabbed the scoop of my waist and pulled me towards him. I could feel him. I could feel his hot sticky breath salivating on my sex. He was hungry for me. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. He pressed his flat tongue against me. Still. He then began to move it. Slowly. Tasting me. Slowly. He took his time. Savouring me. He slowly built the pace. His fingers ready to explore me. I was worried his huge hands might hurt, but I was so wet. He was already in me, probing deep. His fingers pressed up against me, moving firmly and rhythmically; tongue and fingers moving in perfect harmony. My breathing heavier and heavier. I raised my hips, pressed myself hard in to him. The softness of my sex rubbing against the rough stubble of his steely jaw. I try to control my gyrations. I try to contain myself but I can't. My goddess is now in full control, nothing else is going on in my head except to make this feeling last forever. I grab his hair. Force his face deep into my sex and grind myself against him. I can barely breathe. More. Quicker. Deeper. Deeper. Quicker. Suck it. More. Quicker.......Mo.....Yeah.....Yeah.....Mmmm......Mmmmmm........The feeling is building. Building. It's ready to burst forth. I feel muscles deep within me contract around his fingers. A power and an energy that I've never felt before bursts from within me. Nothing I've felt before could have prepared me for what I experienced. All I wanted was to feel it again and again. Again and again. My goddess may have taken control of me, but both of us belong to him.

Grey raised his head from my glistening loins, "You've got a taste for this, haven't you Miss Steele?"

"I've only got a taste for you" I whisper.

My inner goddess was satisfied, but for a moment. She had been brought to her knees by this master of the sexual arts. She couldn't wait for him to teach her more.


Text Messages: Sent Items 06/07/12 8:32 a.m

Mate, remember that girl that came to an interview at our office? She fucking blew me last nite, and I ate her out. Fucking swallowed as well didn't she. Seeing another one tonite. Love these young sluts.

Christian

Saying Goodbye

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Addiction

Addiction is something that I struggle with on a daily basis.Over the years I have been addicted to a number of things: Alcohol, drugs, gambling, bare-knuckle boxing, and that summer I spent being particularly morose; I would end each sentence with, "But it's all futile in the end" - That was an odd few months. Those addictions were all fine, I survived and only one small child got hurt, and, to be fair, he was asking for it.

But I'm not one of those addicts that can suddenly go cold-turkey, what I do is make specific rules and rigorously stick to them so I can continue to drink, bang Valium up my ass etc. but in moderation - I feel it's very much what Rain Man would do if he couldn't stop injecting smack. It's a good system for anybody who likes gambling or bam-bam a bit too much. Instead of getting an 1/8th of Mandy now I only get half a g.......admittedly I often get 6 halves but....still....I'm not an addict any more.

The one addiction that I haven't been able to control is my sex addiction. That's right, my name is Richard and I'm into to some seriously dark and depraved fetishist sex........oh, and I also have a sex addiction. I know you're thinking that sex addiction is all bullshit and that, essentially, all men would be sex addicts if they could be, well, it's not like that. Every moment of every day I fight against this horrible disease. I know a lot of you (all 3 of you) will be judging me, but I'm just like all of you, I put my pants on one leg at a time, though I have to avoid corduroy cos it really turns me on.

The problem isn't that I'm addicted to having regular sex with women, most of the women that I meet are extremely helpful in controlling that problem; No, with me it's just certain inanimate objects, sounds or textures that drive me mental. I don't why they arouse me but I just can't control myself when something triggers me. 

The problem came to a head in 2004 on a drive to Aberdeen. I was on my way to a business meeting, casually driving my mum's Fiat Grande Punto, not being sexually aroused by anything. About half way there I realised that a mid-range engine note was really turning me on. Every time I accelerated past 4000 rpm I got insanely aroused, so much so that I had to pull over, put my belt round my neck  and sort myself out. After I had finished I returned to the motorway, for an hour or so I could hear the sound without any problem, but, again, the necessity to alleviate the problem became excruciating....... I had to pull over. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I was hospitalised with extreme chafing around my neck and it took me 13 days to get to Aberdeen. I lost my job and I had almost pulled my penis right off, something had to change.

The reason that this addiction is worse than my other addictions is that I can't control it. I tried making a list of rules to help control myself, but I get so fucking turned on by bullet points that it was impossible. All I can do is find out what my triggers are and do my best to avoid them. Here is a list of the ones I know about, I'll try to avoid using too many of those slutty fucking bullet points.

• Bullet points
• Lists
• The engine sound of a Fiat Grande Punto at around four thousand revs
• The word "Apropo"
• Tables with a wonky leg
• Owls
• Democracy. I go fucking nuts for democracy. In fact, I was once arrested for putting both my balls in a ballot slot.
• Footsteps in snow
• Corduroy pants
• Chilean miners
• Chilean Minors 
• Picket lines
• Tuning forks
• Gnomes
• Sitting in a wheelchair
• When a woman says no to me
• Cancer charities
• Ordinance survey maps
• That beeping sound large vehicles make when they reverse
• Bad puns. 
• Statistics about the gap between men and women's salaries
• Caves that echo
• Caves that don't echo
• The word "potholing"
• People who pronounce "Bowie" slightly different to me
• Celebrity obituaries, though that's only because I had great sex for almost the entire length of Billie Jean on the day that Michael Jackson died. 
• The way ducks walk
• Cornish pasties
• When anybody sings vibrato 
• The idea that I may, one day, die in a house fire

There, that's it. If you've been wondering why it's been almost three months since my last blog it's because it took me two and a half months and almost three grands worth of moisturiser just to write that list. I just hope that more people can read this and be made aware of this horrible affliction. Just because we get uncontrollably aroused by midget's shoes doesn't mean we aren't people too. 

I Am Just A Rapper

As some of you may be aware, I am a big fan of the hip hop and the rap. Big fan. I listen to all the greats, Eminem, Vanilla Ice-T, that one from the Alicia Keys song about New York, J- Zed I think his name is - All really good at the rapping. But rather than just sticking to my own niche of creative writing and appreciating the rap music from a distance, I've decided to get involved.

After a bit of research I realised that modern rappers don't just release music, they have clothing lines, fragrances, labels, all sorts of stuff...... so I'm gonna do the same.....like a sex pest with 5 penises, I'm gonna come at you from all angles.

As a rapper the first thing you need is credibility, or street credibility as they call it. Many rappers will boast about killing people or dealing drugs to improve their credibility, not a problem, I've already killed 17 people so my credibility isn't in doubt. I don't really want to go into too much, let's just say that I was the only person in my home economics class that survived......and that my Chicken Surprise really was surprising. My face is covered in tear tattoos for my fallen homies (home economics classmates). Every time I make a souffle I still pour some of the mix out for me, and some for my homies......also some so that it doesn't rise too much and fall over, there is nothing worse than a collapsed souffle. Word.

Fragrance Line

People often tell me how great I smell, "You smell great" they say, "I want to have your smell all up in me" is what women say with their eyes. Sometimes people will tell me that they imagine I smell great just from my photograph, "Just from your photograph I think you look like you smell great", "I imagine smelling you and it being glorious", "I imagine you smell like what I imagine Dolph Lundgren would smell like". I am just giving the people what they want, starting with my Blood, Sweat and Tears range.

A lot of people say that they put their blood, sweat and tears in to their work but that's just a figure of speech. Well I am going to do it, literally........okay, not literally, I'm actually outsourcing the work to Thailand. I've contacted Nike and they've let me, for a fee, harvest the bodily fluids of their workers. The blood is easy enough to get and the sweat is abundant...it's a sweat shop, it was getting the tears that was the problem. I came up with genius solution: If the Thai person, or "Spicy Chinese" as I call them, can't cry, then I just inform them that they would have to work every day for 17 years to afford one bottle of my fragrance, works every time.

I have named each of my fragrance's and written their tag lines as well. Is there anything I can't do (to a mediocre standard)?

- The Blood fragrance is called Transfusion. Transfusion: You want what I have.
- My Sweat fragrance is called Perspiration: You want my hard work on you.
- Tears fragrance is called Essence. Essence: My passion. Your face.....neck and tits.

My App


Like most rappers I hate being informed. I will purposely go out of my way to avoid learning anything. If someone asks my opinion on whether I saw something then I will guess, if my guess isn't right then the truth ain't worth knowing. My misinformation app will make sure that you're never informed. It will tell you what you think you already know, that way you can go around spouting views like Kanye West and nobody will ever tell you that you're wrong......How do I know that it's a great idea? Cos I thought of it, 'nuff said.


My Music

We all know that the actual music is the least important part of making money as a rapper, Soulja Boy proved that. I've decided that my music will be more old school, more chilled out than the gangster rap of today.....but not very good. I will call on the influences of  De La Soul, Dilated Peoples, Jurassic 5, Run-DMC etc. Mixing all that together to create my own music......that will be shit. If you're interested then lyrics from my first single can be found here - http://flus2006.tumblr.com/ (The lyrics are written in character (a bad white rapper) not by me, mine would be much better, of course)

My Rap Name

I was rapping under the name Magnus Opus for six months before I found out that it didn't mean Big Penis (rap fans really love those Latin jokes that work on two levels). I have been considering a few names,  Ice Flow, The Cystitis Kid, Balls Deep, China White, MC STD......but I decided on Cum 'N' Thunder - We were originally gonna be a group but Thunder dropped out due to commitments at medical school. I'd already had 14,000 T-shirts printed with "C 'N' T: All that's missing is U" on, so I had to stick with the name. So I'm MC C 'N' T (The Mc C n T is due to replace the Fillet-O-Fish at all McDonald's from December).

So that's it, soon you won't be able to move without being saturated with Cum 'N' Thunder. I can't wait.

Muammar Gaddafi - Human Rights Atrocities

In June of this year Muammar Gaddafi was charged with crimes against humanity by the International Criminal Court. When informed of this Gaddafi was angered, though his face did little to express this feeling. His advisor described Gaddafi's reaction as, "Non-plussed, his face looked more bizarre than average, but nothing out of the ordinary for him". He went on to say, "His face looks like melting gelatin at the best of times, much like he has a rubber mask of a face over his own face, and then he has been unsuccessful in clawing it off. It's a mess, like the ballbag of a mannequin."

Though the charges pertain to Gaddafi's knowledge and involvement in the rape and murder of the people of Libya, there are other allegations that have only recently come to light. I am here to let the world  know what a horrible man Gaddafi is.

• He forces prisoners to watch back-to-back episodes of You've Been Framed, but he has the laughter track removed so they have no idea when to laugh. They just sit their in a confused malaise. Sickening.
• He makes all his bodyguards urinate at the same time, and each man has to hold the penis of the man to the left. Any soldier that shakes another man's penis more than three times is branded a gay and has to be spanked by Gaddafi.
• He allows his soldiers to watch the latest Hollywood blockbusters. However, he replaces the subtitles with haikus about soviet irrigation.
• He offers Libyan men free vasectomies to "Help control population". Gadaffi then poses as a doctor, anaesthetises the men but doesn't perform the vasectomy. While they're unconscious Gadaffi takes delight in shaving their pubic hair. The patient leaves none the wiser.
• He issues cotton buds to all the staff in his compound. He then makes each member off staff use them in front of him. But rather than allowing them the pleasure of swirling the tip around in their ear and cleaning their cavity, he makes them push the cotton bud in too far, past the point of pleasure so that it feels as though it's poking their brain.
• He watches X-Factor
• He recreates episodes of Challege Anika, though he wears leather pants with the ass cut out. He forces the director to follow very closely as he climbs stairs
• He forces the people of Tripoli to attend concerts he puts on. Gadaffi dresses as Bruce Springsteen and performs Born To Run very badly, over and over for up to thirteen hours. Anybody who runs is shot.
• His iPad can only be unlocked if he and his advisor both swipe their penis' on the screen at the same time. The screen auto-locks after 10 seconds.
• He had the Libyan Post Office issue a range of double-sided stamps. On the front was a picture of his penis, on the back a picture of his anus. The stamps in Libya are not self-adhesive.
• He blindfolds his wife and then handcuffs her to the bed. He then performs exquisite oral sex on her, taking her to the brink of ecstasy, at which point he stands up, says "Adios muchahco" and sits and watches The Crystal Maze reruns on Challenge TV. With her hands bound, his wife cant even frapp herself to completion. She just lies in her wet mess, listening to Gaddafi woop  in delight at The Crystal Maze.
• His guest bedroom is decorated with pictures of clowns with sharp teeth.
• He erected a staue of himself that overlooks a lake in Tripoli. He insisted that the statue has a huge, erect penis. He then hung a rope swing from the penis. He smiles with unbridled delight every time he sees a young child swinging from his penis.
• He dresses up as his own wife and tries to seduce his body doubles. If they decline he has them whipped, naked. If they accept he lets them fumble around his downstairs until they realise that he's a man, he then has them whipped, naked.
• He dips his penis and balls in his wife's make up. He then goes to the doctors claiming it's a tropical form of cock-rot he got from making love to a mermaid. He gets the doctors to inspect his penis for hours before washing it off and saying that he healed himself with the powers of his own mind. He will do this twice a month.
• He listens to U2 

I think we can all agree that the price on his head is not enough. He is one of the sickest, most twisted dictators in history....and clearly obsessed with penises. It's time for us to depose and dispose of him, he would be perfect for an effigy, his face already looks as though it's been too close to a fire. Get it done.

It's a Riot

As someone who lived in the same city as Mark Duggan, I was obviously angered that a man innocently driving through London with a loaded shotgun was murdered by the police. What is this country coming to that we can't even wander through the capital with loaded firearms without the police harassing us? It's ridiculous. In fact, just the other day I was quietly minding my own business, attacking pedestrians with nun-chucks and a katana when I got stopped by the police. Why is is that they only stop and search people like me? Where are my rights?

Like a lot of Londoners who had never met Mark Duggan, but lived within a 12 miles radius, I decided to protest his death. On Monday I was sat in my flat, watching my tiny 32" television and thinking that I should go and protest myself a more acceptable 42" or 52" television. Just because I don't have a job, why shouldn't I have a bigger television? Why is it that only the people that work all day and earn money have nice things?

As an homage to the free-speech protesters that gag themselves or place tape over their mouth's to give a visual representation of their oppression, I decided to put a scarf over my face to represent the way that the police was well getting in my face......and so I wouldn't get nicked. Anyway, I picked up my cricket bat and set out on to the streets. I got on bus and headed for Clapham Junction. After a good few hours of protesting my way through John Lewis's window I was ready for home. When I bought it I thought that £35 for a cricket bat was steep, but it paid for itself with as many deep-fat fryers and tampons that I could carry.

Tuesday night I decided to go out again. This time it was less in protest and more to find something more useful than a deep-fat fryer or tampons (I don't fry my food and my vagina has been defunct for years). After a few hours smashing windows in Canning Town, I decided to head home....swagless. On my way home I thought I'd nip in to Tesco and pick myself up something for tea, only to find that Tesco was closed due to the riots. I was devastated - You think it's all fun and games until you can't get your Tesco's Finest fish pie. Dejected,  I headed home.

When I approached the end of my road I saw a group of men my age looking like trouble. I don't want to sound racist here, so all I'll say is that though they are my age they don't look anything like me......though, to me, they all look the same as each other. Anyway, one of them pulled out a gun, I decided I should get home quickly....and change my underwear.

Once at home, I spent most of the night listening to Ride of the Valkyries, putting on camo paint and sharpening my "Justice Stick". I then barricaded myself in my room. You see, for years I have been accumulating oil in large drums and keeping them in my bedroom. Many of the women who had been in my bedroom (some, not many....okay, one) had thought that I was crazy, but I knew this day would come. A state of lawlessness where the youth rise up and lay our previous state to waste. Oil will be the new currency and I will be the king - In the end nothing happened and  I fell asleep watching Seinfeld.

Last night I was still in a bit of a rioty mood. Months ago I had been invited to a party on Facebook, at the time I didn't fancy it, but I re-red the invitation and in the description it said, "Anyone welcome. It'll be a riot". I turned up in my hoodie and ski mask, smashed a few windows and punched a woman in the face but it wasn't just the same. I forced my mate's thirteen year old brother to throw a cake into a ceiling fan, while I screamed, "Now you're a fucking man" - I don't think my friend will describe his other brothers bar mitzvah as a "riot".

I know a lot of you will be chastising my actions and calling me an idiot, but our government cut all the funding to local community support and summer programs. What you people don't understand is that if a man my age can't go to a youth club to play pool or ping pong, then he naturally has to go out on to the street and smash the place up. It's instinct.

In This Week's News

A Japanese woman has finally married her robotic bear boyfriend. Xiao Lin , 29, had been dating the bear, Patrick, 4, for over three years and decided it was time to take the next step. 

Xiao is very candid about her past and what this relationship means to her, "In the past I would find a man and instinctively try to change his personality through nagging and reinforcement through sex. I decided that this is just the natural progression". 

Now when she wants to stop him from depositing his waste in the woods, or refilling with anchovy oil in bed, she just re-programs him. No nagging, no withholding sex like she would with a human. She just alters his CPU. Simple and effective.

Initially there was uproar in Japan, with many people condemning their relationship. One local saying, "A woman having sex with a robotic bear, what's next, me having sex with my toaster?", he went on to say, "Just to be clear, is it now okay for me to have sex with my toaster?". The change in attitude towards the couple stemmed from Kyoto Mayor, Jin Kazama, who declared their relationship legal, "Fuck it. If she wants to fuck a robot then that's up to her. I bet that robot is more affectionate than my whore wife".

Their wedding was a small affair, held in the groom's Toshiba factory, and with only the bride and groom's close family in attendance. The bride's brother, Xinxu, was in charge of taking photographs, he said "It was just a beautiful ceremony. Simple and elegant". The groom's cousin, a Toshiba digital camera, was clearly moved, "It was wonderful. I'll remember this day for the rest of my (battery) life, or until someone deletes the images".

When asked about their love life Xiao didn't want to give too much away, "Let's just say that I'm very happy", she went on to say, "His penis is detachable so that I can't take it on business trips. It's also dishwasher safe". A match manufactured in heaven. 

Privacy

Privacy is something that we take very seriously. Every night I sit at my window and see just how seriously people take their privacy. I then put down my night vision goggles and curse the man who invented curtains. These days our privacy is being invaded all over. On the internet we sign up to websites and online services, idly agreeing to the terms and conditions, which, if we actually read, clearly show that Google, iTunes and Facebook are now permitted to access all recesses of our minds, store our bank details and force us to undertake past-life regression, all on the off-chance that it will help them sell more adverts (In a past-life I mustn't have been so well endowed).

But in the last few years both Google and Facebook have faced legal action regarding their privacy policies, turns out the forced rectal exam was one step to far. But as long as we want to use their websites then there is little we can do to stop them. After Google got a slap on the wrist they didn't relent, instead they got even more aggressive. Google+ are now taking direct advertising to a whole new level. If some of your friends within your circle access their Google+ from an iPad, you get a message saying, "3 of your friends have iPads, why don't you?" - Genius. They are combining ads for a desirable product with peer pressure, if only they could suggest it would also get you laid then they'd have covered everything.

It's not all Google and Facebook's fault. We are less private now than ever. I constantly update Twitter, Facebook, Google+ and Tumblr. Spouting out shite for the whole world to read. It doesn't bother me because I don't mind what people know or think about me, there are very few people whose opinion of me I would care about - in fact just the other day my best friend was telling me that he thinks I have intimacy issues......I didn't listen though cos he doesn't really know the real me.

But there's a difference between me going on Twitter and writing, "If I'm guilty of anything it's that I love too much.......but my lawyer thinks he can get it down to mild admiration", and me telling people about that guy I killed..........I don't want to get into it here but I thought it was the panda's blood....and he was alive when I left him. Anyway, that's why I don't got to regattas any more.

The News of the World scandal was a prime example of the hypocrisy over privacy in our society. The mass outrage that the public showed towards the News of the World was absolutely understandable, what they did with Milly Dowler was particularly upsetting. But the News of the World was Britain's biggest selling Sunday paper, every week it would have stories of celebrity scandals and gossip. Recently, millions of people were waiting for a super-injunction to be lifted so that the paper could pay a woman hundreds of thousands of pounds to tell all the details about sex with a married footballer. You can't clamor for scandal, gossip and information overload and then get angry about our lack of privacy when people go the extra mile to provide it . Incidentally, the reason I gave up on my dream of being Prime Minister was because I was worried that no women would come forward and admit to sleeping with me.......You know you did, Sarah, don't deny it.

Anyway, as I am such a fan of honesty and transparency, I've set up a website so you can watch me go about my day. Go to imthefuckingnuts.com and you scan follow me around London and watch me mill about at home. Last night the forums were going wild, one guy said I was mentally ill, "I can see your nuts" he said - Speaking of which, you should see this  PVC onesie I wear about the house, you get to see it all. That's real transparency. Nothing to hide.

Office Politics

From: wendy.recruitment@fruzzi.com

Sent:  27/07/11

To:  richard.recruitment@fruzzi.com

Subject: Lewd Photographs


Richard,


It has been brought to my attention that various photographs of, what appears to be, your anatomy have been e-mailed to a number of the female members of staff. Obviously this is a very serious problem. I am willing to give you a chance to explain yourself before I take any disciplinary action.


Wendy






From: richard.recruitment@fruzzi.com
Sent: 27/07/11
To: wendy.recruitment@fruzzi.com
Subject: RE: Lewd Photographs


Listen Wends, I'm not gonna deny that I sent those pictures. I don't see the problem with sending photos of my dick to my colleagues, it's not as though I sent them out to our clients......the one time I did I got a very threatening e-mail back and I won't be doing that again. Don't worry.

If you're annoyed that my photos clogged up the inbox and slowed down the server then I could understand. I'm known for having a massive jpeg, and I've been filling mailboxes for years......I'm talking about my dick, yeah?

Anyway, you're the one telling us to be more proactive, having team meetings every fucking day on how we need to try harder to get the clients to show interest and to fill positions. I had a position to fill, preferably doggy. I'm sending photos out there to drum up some interest,  help get me a job (blow). I have a good-looking dick, I'm just trying to get it out there to get women interested in me. Don't worry, it was tastefully done....no bush.

Also, is there any chance that this is cos you're gutted that you didn't get one, don't be like that, five years ago I would've definitely given you one, okay?

Richard




From: wendy.recruitment@fruzzi.com
Sent:  27/07/11
To:  richard.recruitment@fruzzi.com
Subject: RE: RE: Lewd Photographs

Richard,

First of all, don't call me Wends you jumped up little shit. You and the rest of your moronic fraternity strut around this office like you can't be touched. I'm taking this upstairs to Mark and not even your smarmy charms will help you get out off this one.

I want to see you in my office first thing tomorrow morning for your disciplinary hearing.

Wendy

From: richard.recruitment@fruzzi.com

Sent: 27/07/11

To: wendy.recruitment@fruzzi.com

Subject: RE: RE: RE: Lewd Photographs

Attachment: Boom.jpeg

Wends,

I like your feisty attitude, you've just talked yourself into a dick pic - Check your attachments, Jazz Tits.

See you tomorrow.

From: wendy.recruitment@fruzzi.com

Sent:  27/07/11

To:  richard.recruitment@fruzzi.com; mark.recruitment@fruzzi.com

Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: Lewd Photographs

Richard,

I have forwarded your previous e-mails on to Mark and have CC'd him in this conversation so that he can be made aware of your attitude.

I have arranged for a HR representative to accompany us in the meeting tomorrow, they will be there to mediate and take notes so that Mark can make a decision on your future. This is a formal meeting so you will be required to adhere to the dress code for once.

The meeting will begin at 9:15 a.m

Wendy.

From: richard.recruitment@fruzzi.com

Sent:  27/07/11

To:   mark.recruitment@fruzzi.com;  wendy.recruitment@fruzzi.com

Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: Lewd Photographs

Mark,

Do I really have to do this disciplinary thing tomorrow, it was just a bit of a laugh. Me and Dave were mucking about and we thought it'd be funny. You thought it was funny, didn't you?

Anyway, I'm not being awkward or anything, I will go to the meeting if I have to but Wendy is just being ridiculous. She's always on my back about stuff like this. Every morning she gets on to me about the dress code, saying "If it's not white, it's not right" - Does she know that saying is generally used by racists......and the shirt was white enough.

Anyway, if you could have a word or something mate.

Cheers

Richard

From: wendy.recruitment@fruzzi.com

Sent:  27/07/11

To:   mark.recruitment@lfruzzi.com;  richard.recruitment@fruzzi.com

Subject:RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: Lewd Photographs

Richard,

I'm not sure whether you included me in that e-mail on purpose or not, to do either you would have to be incompetent or arrogant, but with you we get an equal mix of both.

To imply that I'm using racist chants to warn you about your dress code is just a way for you to deflect the fact that you never wear the correct attire. This week alone we've had T-shirts with the slogans, "Does this T-shirt make my penis look big", "Save a tree. Eat a beaver", "Last night millions of my potential children died on your daughter's face", and my favourite, "Cunt".

Your behaviour is disgraceful. Just because you are friends with Mark doesn't mean you should be allowed to act the way you do. You may be very good at bringing in the clients but I am a manager and have been with this company thirteen years.  You have made my position  untenable. I will see Mark today and tell him that it's me or you, one of us has to go, and I'm pretty sure I know the outcome.

Wendy

From: richard.recruitment@fruzzi.com

Sent:  27/07/11

To:   mark.recruitment@fruzzi.com;  

Subject: Bye Biatch

Attachment: Boom.jpeg(2)

Wendy,

First off, I'd just like to say how sorry I am to hear that you're leaving. We're really going to miss everything you bought to the office...............................no, I got nothing, did you bring that plant in? No, ahh whatever.

In my defence the T-Shit that says, "Last night millions of my potential children died on your daughter's face" does have a lot of white on it.

Anyway, I'm gonna miss you around here. Though I am very pleased with my nice new office.

If you need any reference or help finding a job then I've attached something to help, it's a photo of my ass. Kiss it.

Richard

Honesty

I've always described myself as a "natural storyteller", regaling audiences with tales of heroic gentlemen and fair maidens. Tales of  romance and adventure, life and love, miscreants and marauders.......oh and that one time my mate fisted a girl and she licked his hand afterwards (true). I will often take things that happened to a friend of a friend and say that they happened to my friend. I will take things that happened to a friend and say they happened to me - It's just re-working the truth, re-attributing facts to tell a better story- I weave the truth around my finger and contrive a tapestry of awe and splendor........other times I just lie.

The amount of elaboration is often directly proportional to the amount of alcohol I've consumed. If I was drunk and you were to ask me about how many women I've slept with, or that time I got in a knife-fight with that 7ft hobo, then the stories could really get out of hand, but when I'm sober you're more than likely to get the truth.

I've always had somewhat of a moral flexibility, but I really don't see the difference between getting on stage and saying, "I asked my girlfriend if she enjoyed having sex with me. She said that she took objection to the word "with", it's over so quick she didn't feel she participated", or me telling a random girl that my girlfriend recently died in a house fire so that she might have sex with me (really slow, awkwardly passionate, sympathy sex. You know, really grind it out) - They are both lies, is one worse than the other? (Someone cries in the shower after both).

There are, of course, different levels of lies. There is the white lie which is okay, and the black lie which is bad, this seems like an extremely racist way to label them. I prefer to call them the Wesley Snipes lie and the Woody Harrelson lie. There are two reasons behind these names. Number two, Wesley Snipes often kills people in movies, and Woody Harrelson often plays gullible idiots......and my main reason, White Men Can't Jump, 'nuff said.

Woody Harrelson's are a big part of a harmonious society, we hear them everyday, "No, your bum doesn't look big", "Yeah, it was really good. I came twice", "We don't need one, I've had a vasectomy". If we told the absolute truth all the time then things would be chaos. Example, I know that I'm a prick. I act like a prick, dress like a prick and say prickish things, but if I were to ask my mates if they thought I was a prick then they'd say......yes, they'd say yes. Bad example. But you get the point, we need those little lies to help keep everything on an even keel - We can't be going around telling women they have big, fat asses, or that someone's shit in bed....or that we just don't like wearing condoms. It'd be mental, not everyone is as awesomely impervious to insults as me (What a prick).

Lying in relationships is complicated. As trust is such a fundamental building block of a relationship, lies can really cause damage. There are lies that are okay to tell to your partner, "Yeah, you were amazing", "I came like three times", "Nah, it just slipped in, but we might as well try it now". But a Wesley Snipes lie is different. That is when you intentionally hurt someone by keeping the truth from them or masking the truth to protect yourself at the expense of others. A very common example of this is cheating. I can't stand people who cheat - There's nobody forcing you to stay with the person you're with, so if you wanna fuck someone else then break up with your current partner first. Don't be a coward.

So remember, whites are good, blacks are bad, and I totally beat that guy in that knife-fight. He came at me with his knife, I just put mine to the ground and suggested we fight like men. He refused and tried to stab me, quick as a flash I dodged the knife and took him down with a karate chop to the chest. When the police arrived they said that my hands should be categorised as deadly weapons, but I told them that Cool Breeze and Vanilla Heat were for loving not fighting. So the moral of the story is: I totally know karate and that did all happen.

Remember, winners don't lie, they don't inject heroin between their toes to hide the track marks, and they do know karate.

The Bible: A New Hope

In a Galilee far, far away.....

I love the bible, great book, great films. I personally think that the second one, The Bible: Return of the Jesus is even better than the first, The Bible: A New Hope. It's just a rip-roaring read from start to finish, a real page turner (I didn't read it). For those who haven't read the book or seen the film then I'll give you a quick synopsis -


So there's this really powerful guy, in the book he's called God but in the film it's Darth Vader (I think he re-branded after the old testament). He meets this bird, a princess. They fall in love and decide to consummate their love. She was bang up for it, he was like, "Shouldn't we use protection?", she tries to reassure him, "I have two sentry guards just outside the entrance". "Shit, where?!", he exclaimed. "No, the entrance to the room. Anyway, it's my first time and you can't get pregnant first time." He still seemed tentative so she continued, "If you're really worried then you can just pour Coca-Cola in there afterwards, okay?" - It was like a fairytale.


What he didn't know is that she'd been putting it about all over the galaxy, because of the trade embargo with Namboo she'd been trading sex for help getting supplies (ironically for birth control). Anyway, she gets pregnant but doesn't tell him. She has twins, separates them and doesn't tell them or the father - She's secretive, a proper sneaky one. The kids grow up separately, one as a princess (the girl), the other as a dirt plougher (farmer, he's not gay). He then joins this gang called the Jews. He learns the skills required to fight against the Catholics, lead by Darth Vader. 


After his training Jesus and his crew were betrayed by one of their own, Judas. Because of Judas, Jesus' best mate, Han Solo was frozen in liquid carbonite (Jesus was gutted). Jesus and Vader then battle it out for control of the galaxy. It was classic stuff, good versus evil, black versus white, good old fashioned Jew on Christian fighting. The battle was fiercely fought, but because Vader had previously been a Jew he had knowledge of all Jesus' powers, plus he had a few sneaky Christian tricks up his sleeve too.The fight had spilled out onto a ledge on the outside of the spaceship. Vader got the upper hand, but rather than kill Jesus he decided to offer him the chance to join him, "But you killed my father", "No Jesus, I am your father" - Bombshell, classic third act twist, these bible writers really knew what they were doing.

Vader was fuming that Jesus turned him down, so he sliced off Jesus' hand with his Christian lightsabre (a sword with a blade of light, powered by guilt), "Lord, why have you forsaken me?" Jesus exclaimed. Jesus then jumped off off the ledge to his apparent death.........but he returned 3 days later with a Jewish robot arm (the batteries were only expected to last one night, but they lasted eight days).

Anyway, to cut a long story short, Darth Vader converts to Christianity and helps Jesus defeat the evil overlord, let's call him Zeus. Vader dies and they take his helmet off and find out that he looks like a pickled ballbag. Jesus nearly bangs his own sister, but doesn't. They defrost Han Solo who slips Jesus' sister a cheeky  one, and Judas hangs himself.

I think if you read the book (The Bible), something bad happens to Jesus but luckily Hollywood glossed over all of that and gave us the happy ending we all wanted.

The End.

First Impressions

First impressions are always important, no more so than for a job interview or first date. Remember, a date is a job interview for the missionary position. I'm great at first impressions, especially with women. I have a certain nihilistic quality that women seem to appreciate and latch on to. Sadly this blog is only about good first impressions, because that's all I'm good at, beyond any initial interaction/attraction I usually fuck things up very quickly. If you have a first date or job interview coming up then read my advice, it could mean the difference between you getting the job of your dreams or trying to blow yourself again.

Appearance


For both a date and a job interview you're going to want to look your best. People these days, not me, tend to judge people on their external appearance....I was just telling my friend with the bad teeth that the other day. For both a job interview and a date you can never go wrong dressing a little understated. If you get a second date or follow-up interview then you can try to express yourself a little more. However, if you're tempted to get that Ed Hardy T-Shirt out of the wardrobe then you should refrain, in fact, take that and any clothes like it and set them on fire, then have a priest come over and perform an exorcism on your sense of taste.

Manner


I have a very simple routine before any date, job interview or exam - First off  I masturbate in the shower. Chances are I would probably do this anyway, but I always do it before an important event. The release of all those happy endorphins centres the mind and stops me thinking about sex just long enough to get through the date/interview/exam. The second thing I do is listen to Smack My Bitch Up by The Prodigy - This is my get-psyched song, it changes me from the normal, placid guy I am (Fuck off, I am placid) into a frenzied killer (Not literally if the girl I have a date with is reading). Ready for action.

Hair and Nails


Personally, I like my hair like my women, high and tight. A man's hair should always be short. This aint Woodstock fellas, keep the hair simple. You don't wanna go into a job interview looking like you just got extensions and a rough bumming from Vidal Sassoon, and a woman doesn't want to date a guy who's hair looks like it takes longer to primp and preen than hers. I generally like my hair shaved or in the old Hitler style - I find that many of the modern day dictators are very good hair role models. I know that you can condemn them for other aspects of their character, but they do seem to have neat hair.....except that Gadaffi, he always was a bit renegade.

Men's nails should always be short and clean. One reason is that articulate people have a tendency to gesticulate, this draws attention to your hands. Who knows when you're gonna wanna bust out the robot on a date, or show her some sweet karate poses. You don't wanna be throwing her some sweet 80s dance moves and all she can see is your dirty finger nails. Also, if the date goes well then you might be using your fingers later. Your nails should be short and neatly trimmed, not bitten - If you like the woman and want another date then you want the woman to have good time, this means using your fingers (and tongue), and take your time and do it properly. Remember, if a woman sees you have long, dirty nails then all she's gonna imagine is that you're gonna be like a bear pawing at her as if she's a bee hive and you're trying to get the honey out, she doesn't want that.....and any employer will just think you're dirty and unkempt. N.B your nails are like your arm-face, you wouldn't go out with a dirty face, would you?

Scent


This is very much like the clothing, it should be understated. You don't want to go on a date or into an interview room smelling like a whore's handbag. If mosquitoes are flying into your airspace and dropping out of the sky then it's too much. I like to put just a bit of aftershave on my neck, that way if she comes in close for a kiss then she gets a nice smell of some subtle aftershave........also, just above my penis in case she sucks my dick. Nice and subtle.

That covers the basics, sadly the rapport and conversation is down to you. Evidently, you can't teach wit and charm, that's just a God-given gift (I had to refund everybody that paid for my Wit & Charm school).

Here are a few tips to help you -

• Do keep your answers short and sweet - Don't waffle on to the interviewer and don't talk about yourself too much, and on a date, just keeping asking about her.
• Do not use words such as, fuck-pig, thunder-cunt, or Water-Chinese (Filipinos) 
• Do not ask her to pass the pepper but accidentally say, "Could I have your underwear?"
• Do imagine your interviewer naked
• Don't imagine your date naked, or what her nipples or pubic hair will look like....you'll get distracted, spill a drink on her and she'll walk out leaving you to eat the starter platter for two by yourself, whilst the rest of the restaurant laughs at you.
• Do gentlemanly things- open doors, pull out chairs, try to finger her at a bus stop etc. Be classy
• Don't tell your interviewer that you're probably better than him and that you'll have his job within months.
• Do wear clean underwear
• Do not prove to anyone that you're wearing clean underwear.
• Always leave them wanting more

Sexual Harassment

Sexual harassment is one in a long list of things that used to be okay but now is unacceptable (see: dog fighting, slavery and necrophilia). I understand the reasons why many of these had to be stopped, but sexual harassment is the lesser of these evils. Is it really that bad that I tell one of my colleagues that she has a great ass? It's only that she's married with two kids......and has twins on the way that she finds it so offensive. I'm pretty sure that if she was single and found me attractive then my comments about wanting to smell her underwear after a heavy gym session would be welcomed (I'm not so sure) - Quiet you!


It's at times like these that I can't help but think of the words of  Martin Niemõller- 


"First they came for the dog fighters,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a dog fighter.
Then they came for the slave traders,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a slave trader,
Then they came for necrophiliacs,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a necrophiliac.
Then they came for me,
and there was no one left to speak out for me"


I will not let this happen. Though I'm not an ardent perpetrator of verbal or physical sexual harassment, I have a soft spot for it.  If I don't say anything now then one day they'll come after men who like to get a hand or mouth finish whenever they get a massage, and who will speak out for me then (certainly not the masseuse, she'll have her hands full).


Women are fragile little creatures, they like to be complimented and cared for. I've never given a woman a compliment I didn't mean (actually true), but if I do give her a compliment, perhaps by saying "I want to wrap your legs around my head and wear you like the crown you are", I should be allowed to - I always tell the truth, what does it matter  that we work together......as long as the children still get their medication I don't see the problem.


If one of my colleagues (preferably Tanya) wanted to compliment me on my tremendous ass or how my trousers effectively show the outline of my whole penis, I'd be delighted. But all Tanya ever does is talk about spreadsheets and synergy. I know that she's thinking it and that she's just dying to saying it. I can see in her eyes that it's taking every fibre of her being to stop from complimenting my gorgeous balls (she loved that e-mail), but when I tell her that I want to chain her to my bed and fuck her til I can't walk properly, I get fired. Supposedly the old defense of "It was pre-emptive, she was definitely gonna say the same to me"  doesn't work.....plus she had some e-mails that I sent. She stitched me right up. Minx.


Don't let this happen to you. I mean, obviously you need to carry on harassing the women you work with but don't get caught. Remember, if you don't compliment a woman on her legs, tits or ass then you are a sexist. We need to celebrate women. We need to glorify women. We need to objectify women. Now go out and do what has to be done.

Why Men Do Anything - Civilisation's Milestones

Whether directly or indirectly, consciously or subconsciously, men do everything for one thing - Women.


A lot of the milestones of civilisation were not born out of necessity, chance or evolution, but purely by man's desire to see, touch and fuck women throughout the ages. I will take you through some of those milestones, and help shed new light on the subject.


Fire - Shedding light on to the subject was the reason men invented fire, the subject being hairy cavewoman titties. Many "qualified" anthropologists will say that cavemen invented fire to keep themselves warm, cook food and ward off predators, that's not true- I've seen the first 23 minutes of The Planet off the Apes, I know how shit went down.
Cavemen invented fire mainly because those caves are dark and they were sick of not being able to see what they were doing. Mrs.Caveman loved it cos it meant that he couldn't see her chunky thighs, sagging belly, her hairy back or her brow-ridge, but Mr Caveman doesn't care about any of that (he really doesn't), he invented fire so he could see the whole dog and pony show (incidentally, it was at the first ever dog and pony show that Mr and Mrs Caveman met).
Now that he could see Mrs. Caveman in all her glory, he could then use the fire to illuminate his cave and paint the walls with her splendour.....incidentally, this is how pornography was invented. Sadly, illuminating Mrs.Caveman and painting her on the walls for the whole world to see made her self-conscious. She felt pressure to attain the stick-figure body that was being plastered on the walls by his minimalistic cave-paintings. She took extreme measures to attain the perfect body- Pilates to help her stand upright, relentless waxing of her legs, arms, back, face, chest and of course, vagina. It was this strive for perfection that transformed man from homo habilis to homo erectus (sorry, had to).


Opposable Thumbs - Even before men invented fire, they purposefully, with great thought grew an opposable thumb, this was purely for shocker purposes. Now I know what you thinking "the shocker only uses fingers, two in the pink, one in the stink...maybe two, there's no thumb involved" - But cavemen were the first perpetrators of the advanced shocker, two in pink, one or two in the stink, and the thumb to work the clit. A caveman would never neglect the clit- Textbook.
Men were also very grateful when women grew an opposable thumb as it meant that they could give Western grip style handjobs - The biggest breakthrough in handjobs ever......until lube.


Bridges - Sure the "Fact-Police" will tell you that men invented bridges to get across water or a large canyon. Not true. Men were very happy with their location and didn't require any water or canyon crossing. It was more an issue with the women in the area. Don't get me wrong, they were very happy with the women they had. They liked what was here - In clubs today you'll often hear modern men say "have you seen the women in here", "I can't wait til the hotties get here", I'd fuck every person in here". But there's the hunter-gatherer nature in men that makes us look for women there - "Look at her over there", "I'd like to put my penis in there", "You reckon there are sluts in there" - As satisfied as men were with they women they had, they couldn't help but see what other women they could have. The only thing men prefer to women is more women - Boom! It's a bridge, bitch.


Moon - The great space-race. America's competition with the Soviets for dominance of space, and bragging rights over their superior technology- Rubbish. They were trying to get there to see what women were there, to allay the rumours that there might be some sneaky little moon-pussy up there- Sadly, there wasn't.
For the astronauts themselves it added a whole new dimension to their game. Rather than tell women that they were merely war-hero fighter pilots, they could now tell women that they were spacemen. Neil Armstrong was famous for going around America chatting up women with "When you've got 12 million pounds of thrust at your disposal you've got to know how to handle it", "Do you want to be the first woman on the first man on the moon", and of course "I've been to the moon, wanna fuck?" - A true American hero, an inspiration to us all.


I had a lot more to write, pretty much everything else invented in human history, but I have to go to the gym (to get ripped and fuck women), then I'm cooking dinner (learnt to cook to fuck women), then I'm off to night school, taking a course in eating pussy (my work paid for that. Odd). Oh and then I'm volunteering with mentally challenged children (after brushing my teeth) - Need I say more? NEED I SAY MORE?!!