Monday, 22 November 2010

The Devil asks you, "What went wrong?"

I breathe. I take a can of cold whipped cream from the fridge. I eat the entire can. I place the empty can on the table, thin beads of condensation rolling down the side towards the polished wood. I breathe. I feel nothing.

I've been doing a lot of thinking over the last few days, and as a result, I took a spiritual journey through nature at its most basic level. Here's how it went:

Last night I switched off my light, convincing myself I was tired. I lay there for HOURS, absolutely not tired still switched on to the terrors of the days. I guess zen has never really been my style.

It must have become too much after a while though because eventually I found myself in a forest. I had a torch and a napsack and a feeling I had to walk through the forest. And so I walked.

Jeezum, I must have walked for miles. And miles. My feet had worn away and yet I strove onwards, carried only by the bloodied stumps of my ankles. Soon I saw a sad light coming from somewhere in the I approached I saw what I'd been looking for and shouted out,

"Oh flaccid penis of life! What am I going to do?"

"My child," replied the flaccid penis of life, who sounded a lot like Dame Maggie Smith, "just let go."

"But I can't!"

"Dear one, be calm. Learn from me; if you force it, it won't rise and things will be worse. Then everyone will be disappointed."

"You're comparing my huge and terrible upset to erectile dysfunction?"

"Yes, child."

" make a lot of sense. Thank you."

And then the flaccid penis of life granted me my feet back and told me to run home and report what I had seen in my massively popular blog, The Rattle Bag. And so that's just what I've done.

Fucking hell, Nobody...I just compared my huge and terrible upset to erectile dysfunction. What is the MATTER with me?! :/

"You can find
a million faults in me
but Darling you can't say
I gave you nothing."

Wednesday, 17 November 2010


...just a quick note to tell y'all of a small progression in the mystery one has found oneself embroiled in...

Yesterday I saw the castrato on the bus. I haven't seen him for an age as I've been off work dying of stomach terrors. WELL I hardly recognised him! He now sports a shaven head and...A MOUSTACHE. To me that indicates one thing: A criminal mastermind trying to disguise his guilt with a facial adornment.

Perhaps he read my last post. In which case he'll also read this. Well I'm onto you castrato; you won't get away with it forever. The world wants Mr Whitehairblackbeard back. SO GIVE HIM UP YOU CRAP BAG SANS BALLSES.

I hope you're still on the look out since the case obviously isn't closed yet. Stay safe, wieners :/