Hello all, long time no see. Of course, it’s hard to see out of a glass eye. Frightful story that. I was in Hamburg frittering my way through the sights and sounds of a quite marvellous place to take a family on holiday and remarkably fell into a place of sexual fantasy and fantastical dream fulfilment. I hired half an hour with a charming chap by the name of Ullrich. I called him Jan because he dressed in Pink. Not the pop singer. Although, to be fair she looks like she’d make a lovely jacket. Anyway, all was good, I was happily sucking off Jan until he unloaded a wad of his sceptic spunk right into my left eye. His German filth blasted away my retina like Sauerkraut will blast a way through your butt hole. Suffice to say I killed him. Fucking fag.
I recently spent some time in Finland. A nation of utter munters. Or so the travel guide told me. Imagine my surprise when I rocked up at the nearest graveyard and found that I was the only one keen drinking one of my five a day. You have no idea how hard it is to munt with just one person... In the end I resorted to an complicated system of pulleys and levers to smash “Anthea Turner”’s gravestone upon her decaying chest and showered in the delicious sprinkling of cooling juices. Heaven. Which is more than we can say for the other Anthea Turner who is clearly heading head first to hell; I look forward to fucking the shit out of her when I get there.
Finland is a cold place, a lonely place. In a nation of only 5.4 million people the chances of finding a like minded individual is limited. I nearly found the Fin-ished article in Lahti, but he was wearing Ugg boots. For those who do not know me I have an utter, incontrollable loathing towards these hideous shoes. I really can’t understand the appeal – they are just a fucking piece of shit. So I raped the fuck out of this darling Finn and dangled my Huckleberries into his butthole. After smearing them over his Uncle’s sweaty chest. He remembered the taste. I saved my real ire for the boots themselves and took a great, big shitty, spunky, corny and slightly cancerous mud monkey right in the right foot. Why the right foot? It looked at me funny.
Whilst in Finland and cruising for some icy mall ass I saw what must of been the most obvious Evangelical Lutheran Church of Finland follower I’ve ever seen. Ringo Starr. In my opinion Ringo is no star, I think his talent is somewhat Stark-ey. Any scrotum who has the nerve to build a singing career in a Scouse accent is clearly a cunt. Wait, he did something before that solo career didn’t he? Was probably shit.
Anyway, my meeting with Ringo Starr was somewhat fortunate. I was actually on the hunt for Pingu, but I’m dyslectic and was in the wrong country. Pingu is Swiss if you were wondering, but I wasn’t, I was on a roll. Quite apart from not being an anthropomorphic penguin Ringo Starr is an utter ballbag. Therefore I did what any self respecting munt, rape and racism enthusiast would do and kidnapped him.
(It’s going to get a bit darker here kids... perhaps best to stop reading)
So me and this black fucker bundled old Ringo into the back of our Land Rover and discovered that we had a real knack for offroading. I will admit that it perhaps wasn’t the most comfortable ride for Ringo, what with those rusty, diamond encrusted phallic instruments rammed halfway down his bellend, but I think those cries were of ecstasy. Brian Harvey take note. If my name were Leah, I would have had Bets on me topping myself too. Stupid name.
If you were wondering where the black guy (let’s call him Rudiger) has been for this whole story I can tell you. He was in the shadows. The crack about Ringo and Pingu made him smile, and bang. We can all see him. I think the spunk makes his teeth whiter.
So there’s Ringo, Rudiger and myself toppling down an ice gorge in deepest, darkest (Rudiger had stopped smiling by now) Finland when the shit really hit the fan. Ringo, in a vain attempt at escape had taken a steamy bog ness monster and threw it into the air-con. You’d have thought we were all Finn-ished, but Rudiger and I, in a moment of pure Colin McRae magic, pulled the handbreak (next to the cock, if you were wondering) and stopped dead on the glacier.
We were set aback by its majesty. The cool, icy wind send chills down my spine as I gazed at the beauty all around me. The sun glinted and shed light where once there was none (Rudiger again) and then I saw the final gift she had to give. A dogging site. I hounded up to what looked like a potential barnstorming evening only to find out that it was actually a dogging site (www.letsgodogging.com) and I had smashed my way out of this plane of existence and into the slightly less realistic world of the Internet.
So, now I’m in your computer as well as your dreams. Do you know what that means? That’s right, I’m your God. And you’re all fucked.
Peace out from Silicon Valley (I’m dictating this whilst getting a titwank off some Californian whore... said her name was Lindsay Lohan. Rings a bell right? Yeah, it’s mine)
Tommy.com
