The feast continued with human skulls filled with Crème Anglaise

But the mayor was too full to guzzle down the last sliver of the cooked woman on his plate.  He was completely gorged on human flesh.

The gravy was so rich and by the pint full; the vegetables had been plentiful and the potatoes crisp.  But the meat; oh the meat was sweeter than anything he had ever experienced. 

Old man Cole certainly knew how to cook a human.  And it was good to know that the woman’s suffering had only added to the tenderization process and the quality of the meal. 

Bon apatite.

This is a bit of a continuation from the last post that I put up and even I thought that I was being a little negative.  So you know what?  I’m doing away with the negative stuff and just going for what I know… gore.

I always moan that I hate Christmas and I don’t celebrate it but I always end up having a good time and enjoying the festivities in my own way.

For example, this year I’m using my new found redundancy time off to get a real head start on writing as a full time career choice.

I’m also planning on cooking a really good meal for me and my lady friend this year.  Last year I had a pizza and a shit tonne of snack food.  This year I’m cooking a duck with all the trimmings.  Not because it’s Christmas, just because I can.  The butcher is putting it aside for me, top bloke.  And I’m cooking it on Christmas Eve, not on the day.

It’s not like I’ve put a tree up or anything.

To tell the truth, I can’t remember the last time I actually had a proper Christmas dinner with any of my family.  I had one round a friends place around five years ago, but other than that…

Strange. 

now that’s a marinade

Wouldn’t it be fun if we lived in a reality where the eating of human flesh was part of the Christmas tradition?  At the last supper Jesus did give the “this is my body, this is my blood” speech, so it would be fitting… if you believe in such nonsense.  A Middle Eastern guy with a Spanish name; yeah, right.

Human sacrifice was an all too common occurrence.  That could be a good way to deal with prison overcrowding after all.  All the life sentenced criminals get served up in butchers windows, sliced up and oven ready.  I wouldn’t mind having a go.

Apparently it is like a cross between turkey and pork.  I bet the skin turns into great crackling on a nice slow roast.  And the gravy you could make with the dripping in the roasting tin.  I bet it would be just superb.

Food and Drink would be a totally different show.  I really want to know which wine goes best with a 30 year old rapist casseroled with brambly apples and India pale ale.

Just what desert do you follow with after serving up a rich paedophile stroganoff?

I don’t really see much of a problem with cannibalism; and just where our vegetarian friends would sit on the subject?  Would they consider human flesh animal?  Would you get picky bastards like those twats that don’t eat any meat except chicken?

 

“No, I don’t eat humans unless they are Native American.”

I think I would get my butcher to prepare my human for roasting.  Get the bastard trussed up like one of those pre-boned turkey crowns.  Really easy roasting.

I’d go for a rich sausage meat and chestnut stuffing with asparagus and roasted winter vegetables; beats, potatoes, parsnips and carrots.  Probably chunky bits of butternut squash in there too, with some fresh thyme sprinkled on before it gets whacked in the oven.

Top hole. 

Just imagine some of the budget cuts of meat you’ll get.  Face.

I don’t fancy the idea of tinned bollocks either.  Mechanically reconstituted ‘bits’ in brine.  I mean Fray Bentos pies are bad enough, just think of how bad it would be if it was made with human arseholes and brain matter.  Human kidneys and shin meat.  Tasty.

In some parts of the world it’s almost traditional to eat human meat, during the winter months anyway.  Just look at Russia during the 1921 famine.  Cannibalism was fucking rife.  Sometimes they didn’t wait for you to keel over from old age or starvation either.  Smack, a bat around the back of the head then you’re bobbing about in the stew pot with an onion up your arse.

Fuck that. 

Some of the stuff we eat nowadays anyway; I reckon that human would be a bit of a step up from some of the processed trash we stuff down.  Just have a look at your local super markets frozen section next time you go shopping.  Some of the cheap shit in there is almost not even real food.  Burgers in chip shop batter for fuck sake.

Those horrid Scottish square sausage slices that are 75% pork fat and 15% sawdust.  30 budget ‘chicken’ nuggets for £1.  Yeah, like that isn’t just the birds skin mashed up with a tonne of salt and coated in breadcrumbs.

Does anyone actually still eat corned beef?  It’s not the first thing I think of when I think sandwich fillings nowadays.  Mind you I’m not thinking about putting in someone sliced up arse cheek either.

Mind you I saw a woman buying about 6 half litre tubs of egg mayonnaise sandwich filling the other day in Iceland.  No thank you.  I try not to eat anything that tastes like a wet fart.

I used to work with a bloke that had egg sandwiches pretty much every day and would stink the work van out every time he opened his lunch box.  What a cunt. Couldn’t have bought a block of cheese could he?

Give me a nice filet humaine any day.

We’ve resorted to cannibalism as we have run out of brandy butter!

 

Grandpa licked his lips as the roast was taken from the huge oven and placed on the table by the kitchen hands.  It was trussed up and filled with edible flowers and herbs from the manor grounds.  Grandma had gone upstairs to prepare the table for the guests. 

All he had to do now was to remove the woman’s now crispy skin and carve her onto the waiting silver serving platter.  Her torso had a tattoo down its ribs that made him smile.  It was a dragon.

The feast was soon to begin. 

Well, I fucking hate Christmas!

But there are many out there that fucking loves it and I wish these poor bewildered fucktards all the best.  You’re gonna need it.

If you need a special time of year to be nice to people, then you are the worst kind of people.  Just be nice to people all year, what’s the harm in that.

I personally don’t celebrate it, there’s no point.  I don’t have children and I’m not a Christian and the amount of family that actually want to see me or have any contact with me, you can pretty much count on one hand.  Partially my fault; I am a massive bastard and have grown almost unbearable to be around for more than an hour.

don’t buy in to this festive hippy utopia!

But I would like to talk about my favourite part of Christ-mass, the band ‘Wizzard’ and there ridiculous lyrics to the song ‘I wish it could be Christmas every day.’

I really don’t wish it was Christmas every day, it would be absolute rubbish.  Everything would be shut, you’d have to fork out for presents and a feast constantly but you wouldn’t be able to afford it as most people will be off work.  That and you’d never get a wage as the end of the month just wouldn’t come.  It’s like some horrid tinsel covered Groundhog Day.

The weather would be constantly shit and all you would see in the town centre would be tramps and Albanian kids looking for fag ends and 2p’s.

When these fucking rank hippy arseholes penned this tune they must have been going cold turkey from heroin.

I don’t think a chest freezer full of Christmas finger food and Stacey Solomon’s prawn ring will last an eternity of Christmas days.  Come to think of it the Muslim cash and carry down the way will be out of stock in a week.  I don’t think they have enough Pringles and dip to go around.

If this was also the only band that was playing during the perpetual yule I think the suicide rate would sky rocket.

Fucking hippy cunts, I hate Roy Wood.  I don’t know whether it’s possible to physically punch off a man’s beard but I would have a bloody good go.

If it was Christmas every day you’d all soon get sick of it.

Imagine being stuck in a dining room every afternoon for the rest of your life with just your family and nothing on the telly.  For fuck sake, you wouldn’t even be able to escape to the pub for a little ‘you’ time… or to get completely smashed to drown out your mother telling you that you’ve wasted your life, over and over and over again.

And what happens when an elderly relative dies in the comfy armchair with a paper crown on?

The undertaker isn’t open so you’ll have to take matters into your own hands.  Standing in the pissing rain, burying grandpa in a shallow grave while you can hear the next door neighbour’s celebrating a winning game of Pictionary.

It will start getting a bit feral when all the electricity goes down after a few weeks and man’s deep seated instinct to survive really kicks in.  Imagine Mad Max with Santa hats and fairy lights all over the vehicles.

Shit, I think I just came up with the idea for a bizarro novella…. Hmmm?

But at least it isn’t a fucking Cliff Richard song.  Thank fuck he has given up on the race for the Christmas number one.

If there is one thing worse than someone pretending to be kind, happy and full of the festive spirit then it’s actually being kind, jolly and full of the festive spirit.

That line in ‘mistletoe and wine’, ‘children singing Christian rhyme’, they fucking don’t around my way.  The last time they had kids doing anything Christian there was some dude dressed as Father Christmas breakdancing while kids begged for money for some charity.

They have set up a make shift manger in the town square for some nativity but I’m guessing that that might get side-lined as it is now water logged from the shit weather.  And even if they do pull it off, they will probably have really bad Christian youth leaders rapping the story and spoiling Christmas for all the old folk watching.

Christmas isn’t hip hop. 

One thing I did see from old Cliffy-babe was the advert for his new album on YouTube and all I can say is… ouch.

This actually made my skin crawl, so if you fancy watching a video where you are just waiting for an old bloke’s hip to give then google search Cliff’s Rock and Roll song book.  It really is quite dire.  It’s almost like watching the geezer die slowly.  He doesn’t want to go though, he still has a couple of numbers left in him and he’s going to gyrate right up to the bitter end.

hands up Mr Richards because I will shoot you in the neck if you move!

Cliff, please just let it go, we get it; you were about in the 50’s. 

There is one small mercy this year though; I haven’t heard that fucking ‘Slade’ tune… yet.

It’s the one that makes me want to smash up the jukebox more than any of the overplayed Christmas ditties.

Why can’t musicians write Christmas songs anymore?  Someone has got to do something or we will be stuck with the likes of Cliff for the rest of our lives.  If there was ever a reason to get rid of religion once and for all, that would be it.

Death to Christmas songs and death to Noddy Holder! 

Lunging at straws in the dark with girls

“So, have you ever called on of those late night phone sex things?”

The collective around the pub table fell silent.  Simone made eye contact with each person, ginning like a toad, looking for an inch of response.

Johan had half a fork full of the side salad hanging from his mouth whereas Leona just looked shocked and a little flush. 

Sara and her mother walked away in disgust and took their bowl of crisps with them as they made their way to the beer garden. 

Simon scanned around at the people sat on the faux cockney squat bar stools to see if anyone would respond to his question looking totally puzzled. 

No one did. 

What is it with people wearing denim on denim recently?

I have just spent the last hour of my life bumping elbows in the Christmas shopping crowds with a pack of Brian Adams impersonators.  I didn’t think the Strokes were popular again.

I always thought that people bopping about in ‘Canadian tuxedos’ were considered total douchbags and shunned from society.  Even in the 80’s it wasn’t cool and you could get away with anything fashion wise back then.  Leg-warmers dude, leg-warmers and head bands.

But that being said I did notice that the retro thing for the 70’s then 80’s started to speed up quite a bit and was killed off with the new rave thing from the 90 in around 2008 because it was shit.

It got to a point where retro had caught up so much it was last year’s stuff repackaged.

So, something had to be done, right? 

And what did the good people of Old London town turn to?

Yep we are going back to when everything was in black and white and rock and roll was just a thing kids had just started to listen to.  We are talking baby boom era, pre-rockabilly, short back and sides, braces on your trousers and proper shaving products late 1940’s.

And about time too! 

We are going through a retro movement that means grooming and sharp dress rather than some rehashing of some terrible, unwashed youth counter culture.  Look at the nineties, fucking grunge.  Who the fuck wants to walk about looking like that anymore?

Ripped jeans and skanky jumpers; looking like you’ve just been raped by tramps in an old oil barrel, then got dragged through some sort of prickle bush.  Fuck that shit, I aint ever going back.

And you can keep that mod crap, their suits might be sharp but have you seen the state of their skin.  All that cheap whizz has a price, people.  And let’s not forget that their music aint all that, unless you have a dig through the northern soul stuff, some of that is pretty tight.

Paul Weller smells of piss and don’t even get me started on The Who. 

Didn’t one of them get done for having child porn images on his computer then say it was for a book he was researching?  The one with the big nose and the busted ear drums, that cunt.  When did that book come out, I can’t recall?

Fucking nonce! 

Speaking of retro paedophile mishaps, I can guarantee that ‘Goldie Looking Chain’ are regretting basing their image on Jimmy Saville; all that jewellery and charity shop track suits, wankers.  Oi son, your hero is a paedo!

Whatever happened to the GLC?  Did everyone just stop finding poor quality hip hop and corner shop, hash smoking hooliganism just a little too much with that Welsh accent?  Yeah, I thought so; so what if one of their mate’s mum has a penis, she probably still has a career.

Speaking of career, I was happily informed about a month ago by my computer that I have been running my blog for over two years now and that it was a celebration.  At the time I was just waking up and still lying there in just my pants so wasn’t in the mood for partying.

To be honest I had totally forgotten about the notification until I was clearing out my email account junk mail from out of date porno subscriptions and loan reminders.

It did however give me a rundown of the last couple of years, stats and highlights and all that.  So I had a little look see to see what has gone down in my blog world.

There were a tonne of posts that had flashed up in a sort of ‘greatest hits’ and I had a bit of a read through and reminisced.  It was also a bit like therapy in a way, the way a doctor would go back through old case studies to identify the defects within a new patient to figure out what’s wrong.

As it turns out I have realised that I am a self-loathing yet narcissistic, bum fighting, celebrity hating, porno obsessed, blood fetishist that can’t hold a decent conversation with anyone without offending/making them cry.

I made a girl cry down the pub a few weeks back when I explained to her my feelings towards mortality.  She did ask.  Fake arse goth chicks.  They play all dark but when it gets real, they run home to the burbs and hide in their on-suite bathroom.

But really, it hasn’t seemed that long since I started this thing and the support that I have had for it over the last year is overwhelming.  It’s a conversation starter now too, “I saw that post you put up the other day and…”  It either ends in a hug and a fist bump or someone wanting to kick my head in.

The amount of hits that I get now is absolutely mental and aside from the occasional death threat (for those people, don’t get hit by a bus, that would break my fucking heart) the feedback has always been really positive.  So well done you lot.  What started out as a bit of a laugh for a college project turned into this seething mass of sweaty, pounding flesh and bile flavoured vitriol.

Let’s hope that the decision to go full time with writing in 2014 pays off;  it will be you lot that I come for when I lose everything because you got my hopes up.  I kid; I’ll make it work or die trying.

You are all my psychotherapists, thanks for listening. 

I need a new hobby

It has taken many years but I have turned a corner in my life and it is quite the milestone.

I am now totally desensitised to pornography.

Really, I think I have seen it all now, with some obvious exceptions.  I am not that cunt from the Lost Prophets.

When you are eating a bowl of Wheeto’s while watching a woman in a full gimp suit being fucked by a mechanical dildo/go-kart, life probably doesn’t have that many surprises left.  It’s just all one big fleshy blur now, one giant ball of lubed up, sweaty penetration.

Seriously, it’s just a sea of never ending female ejaculate and moaning whores flopping about all over the place.  I never thought I would say this in my lifetime but not even the hardest of lesbian ‘insertion’ clips even raises an eyebrow nowadays.  I think there might be a problem.

I’m not even joking when I say that I have searched for some of the most obscure porno that can be found.  I once put ‘girl from Sunderland gets fucked in a nightclub cloakroom’ into a google search, but it didn’t bare fruit.

A girl was being fucked in a cloakroom, but she wasn’t from Sunderland.  I felt let down.

Don’t get me wrong it’s not like I don’t enjoy a good porno, it’s just that there isn’t much out there that I haven’t seen.  Car park gang bangs, gimps getting kicked in the bollocks, lesbian wrestle rape, I have googled them all.  It must be like working at a chocolatiers, after a time you must just get sick of chocolate.

Have you ever met a porn star, they are just like real people but with the capacity to take a 2 litre coke bottle up them.  You will be more than surprised to find that they don’t spend the entire time fucking people/stuff while you are with them.

I knew this girl from years ago, back in the old club days that started doing magazine work, nothing too hardcore just tits and gash stuff but she wanted to go into videos.  I remember she was working for a magazine that she had never seen and asked me what it was like and what sort of stuff they did.  I didn’t know the magazine so we scoured North London until we found an issue in a Euro-store and we had a look.

She was more than happy to take the job after she saw that there was some lesbian stuff in there and a lot of dildo play.  Bless her.  She later showed me her dildo collection.  It was extensive.

I remember there was one that had a hilt like a boot knife.  What a girl.

It’s always awkward when you get spotted leaving a sex shop by someone you know.  Once me and
this girl were leaving one of the London sex super stores on Charing Cross road and there was a girl that I used to date waiting for her mate outside.  She just found it funny but I think the girl that I was with was a little embarrassed.

A good mate of mine back in the day got a job in a late night sex shop that just did DVD’s and tape.  He loved it because the boss would leave him to the place pretty much all night and we used to smoke weed and go through the Japanese girl on girl section.  It was a cool place to hang out and we would often take the piss out of the seedy little blokes that would frequent the place after dark.

We would spend the night jotting down notes for scripts and giggle at the hardcore S&M we would put on then go flyering for some shitty indie clubs.  Good times.

I think I could handle being a smut peddler, I could handle working in one of those places but I wouldn’t want to work in a peepshow.  All that spunk up the walls that would have to be cleaned and I can only imagine what you would find in the bogs.  Having to spend all-day sitting there listening to blokes wanking through paper thin walls; might have to give that a miss, ta.

Have you ever been in one?  You pay £1 for about thirty seconds of some boss-eyed Ukrainian bird shoving a plastic corn on the cob up herself.  The floors in these places have this weird chalky film over the lino from all the disinfectant they have to tosh onto the floor.  Nice.

Some places have glory holes out back where you pop your dick through and some tart will ‘do stuff’ for a minimal fee.  I wouldn’t trust the place personally because you never know who’s on the other side.

Just after you chuck your muck you hear a bloke say “You’re welcome” on the other side of the partition.  The blood runs cold.

I did hear that there was one of those places close to where I live but I think it was just a place where old dudes went ‘cottaging’.  I also heard that someone got shot in a ‘cottage’ recently after performing an act and not getting any money or something.  Whatever, someone got blown then shot, life goes on.

I remember using one of the under street toilets in Kentish Town and when I came out of the cubicle there was this bloke just standing there even though there were free stalls.  He nodded at me; I left saying nothing and was not raped.

Happy days.

There’s a couple of peep shows at the bottom of Berwick street in the west-end an once I saw a bunch of kids hanging about outside  waiting for men to come out so they could point and shout at them for a laugh.  They were not laughing however when the gigantic Moroccan security guard beat the shit into two of them.

The amount of blood that poured from that kid’s nose was almost disturbing.

How we laughed.

Fight over those shoes, bitches!

Barry was a mall Santa, Barry found life tough.

Barry could stand no more, Barry had had enough.

Barry went to Hunter’s World, Barry bought a gun.

Barry started shooting kids, Barry found it fun.

Barry got aroused by death, Barry found it tops.

Barry washed his face with blood, Barry got shot by cops.

Some of you I am totally indifferent towards; some of you I consider tolerable, friends even; the majority of you I would like to see on fire.  That’s right I’m talking to you internet.

I have been out an amongst you all over the last week or so to see what this year’s Christmas hubbub is like and the only conclusion that I can surmise is… that it’s worse than last year.

I didn’t think the wave of junk food consuming arseholes could have been topped from last year but people I am here to tell you that you have out done yourself.

I don’t think that I have seen the fast food places around here so jam packed as I did the Black Friday weekend.

Black Friday; who the fuck fell for that shit?

it’s on!

Who do you think gave that day that title?  The people that wanted you to buy loads of their shit so they made up a day to get you spending more of your hard earned cash than you really should have.  Shame on you, you walked right into it didn’t you.  You wandered into the stores like cud chewing cattle with clumps of money in your grease stained mitts because some slimy ad-man put a sexy spin on a normal Friday afternoon.

You fought each other over the last of the bargains and stampeded through shops on their special BF midnight openings.  People were actually hurt and hospitalised in crushes and riots over products.  Humanity, you fucking sicken me.

And then followed cyber Monday, the day the fucking internet caught fire because of all the online shopping.  It was chaos.  According to the media who wanted us to believe it was Columbine massacre lever news worthy.  It was front page shit, along with Nigella Lawson doing loads of coke.

Does that make her more of a milf or less?

UBERMILF!

Imagine after one of her killer sticky toffee puddings, she leans over with a huge glass of Pinot Noir sloshing over your lap and whispers into your ear with that sultry, posh filth tone “I want to do blow off the tip of your penis.”  Just think about that for a moment lads… just a moment… and just a little bit longer.

Sploosh!

The majority of Daily Mail readers were probably appalled with her behaviour whereas the rest of us just shrugged and said “So?”

So what, the girl likes a bit of bugle, she’s not hurting anyone.  If anything she did it to take the edge off of her turbulent relationship with that Saatchi scumbag.  If we remember he did strangle her in public then lied about it.  The man is a complete wanker and we’re having a go at her for a little bat food.  Come on people, let’s show a little decorum.

Amy Winehouse does a shit tone of heroin and puts the videos of her bumbling about on you tube and she gets a state fucking funeral when she dies; Poor old Nigella turned to the old dusty showbiz as a form of escape from a violent husband and the press vilify her like some war criminal.

Speaking of war crimes have you seen the drivel pouring out of Channel 5 this Christmas?  They really have strung together the worst schedule of made for TV festive movies.  For example 2005’s ‘Meet The Santa’s’.  This is a sequel to the classic ‘Single Santa Seeks Mrs Claus’ staring possibly my favourite actor of all time Steve Guttenberg.

These really are the worst films that have ever been made and really seal the deal when it comes to America taking European customs and sticking their huge red white and blue cock into them.

America, could you please stop taking our stuff and fucking it for us, you are a bastard race with no history and nobody likes you.  you do not rule us so fuck off and get your own stuff, you morons.  Thanks and kind regards the rest of the world.

America

And before any American friends get fired up and ‘wanna go’ over the history thing, remember that I come from a town that is mentioned in the Doomsday Book.

Only in America could they take a magical, quaint family orientated holiday period like Christmas and make it all about advertising and shopping.  They have sugar coated the whole thing so that even in more traditional parts of Europe they have pretty much lost the meaning of it.  Most people only consider it Christmas when they see the Coke Cola advert with the big Santa truck.  When the fuck did this become a British tradition?  Thanks America for giving the world corporate diabetes.

But I have strayed from the path a little here, I’m sure my beef was with shopping rather than slamming the Americans for their blatant rebranding of tradition.

In town today there were a lot of people giving out flyers for various goods and services.  Like a fool I thought that they would be for quaint things like carol recitals or mince pie and tea evenings at the local salvation army.  How wrong was I?

The first that was thrust into my hand by an over enthusiastic woman was for a 50 % discount at a tanning salon.  That’s what I think of when I think Christmas.

Standing in a booth wearing swimming goggles getting sprayed orange with a dye that is sure to give me breathing problems in later life.

The second I was given was for Cash Converters.  I can only imagine loads of people queuing up to sell their stuff so that they can buy their greedy children stuff that they don’t need because they won’t stop screaming in toy shops.

I have never seen the point in putting yourself in dep’t for Christmas.  Why spend money you don’t have just so you can give a load of people a load of shit that they probably don’t want?

But anyway… I hope you all have a wonderful time and stuff yourself with treats and drink yourselves into a stupor.

I however will be worrying about my redundancy and how I’m going to pay my bills in the new year.

One last thing… avoid Bluewater, it’s like a riot.