Armageddon My Hairy Arse!

I popped in for a pint earlier. What a bad fucking idea that was. The bad weather meant that some stupid old fart decided to pop into the pub too.

“It’s the end of the world, I’m telling you”

Takes drink of beer, wipes mouth with back of hand and thinks to self. “Have I walked into the fucking twilight zone here or what?”

“First there’s floods, then quakes and pestilence”. Stupid fucker. “So” I says “So I understand about the floods and the quakes but what is the pestilence? Honestly, I’m at a loss”. The man’s face became even more smug and fascinated with himself than before. “You don’t read the papers, do you. Well, the pestilence is avian flu”

What a cunt! If I were a God wreaking vengeance on mankind, I would not make a few chickens sick and make life difficult for the Bernard Matthews of this world. It’s not wrathful enough.

My kind of pestilence would be a proper one, with people all covered in sticky seeping boils. Or vomiting up fire with blood streaming from their eyeballs. And the groaning of the sufferers would set their teeth, which had not already crumbled into dust, on edge. And the terrible gut wrenching pains in the abdomen would cause people to rip their own stomachs open and pull out their intestines and strangle each other with them. The final throes of the pestilence would have everyone twitching away on the floor and I, as God would look down and see that the way the poor bastards bodies would fall to the ground, would spell out “All knowing Matt was right”.

Anyway, because I am not a total cunt, I do not believe the world is going to end one little bit, and quite frankly I find the neck of the people who keep on about it quite astonishing. Before the millennium they were all at it. Reading the fucking Revelations and giving a countdown to the big day. Which as it turned out was very uneventful and dull indeed. Even that gay computer virus thing didn’t happen. The millennium was utter shite and not all dangerous and world ending.

Then nine yawny eleven happened and there they were! The armageddon freaks, all scratching around in the bible, finding gibberish verses about towers burning. Then there was that bloody tsunami and that storm in America and they were off again with the “end is nigh” nonsense.

They have shot themselves in both feet. Those fuckwits who believe in the end of the world, because no God would bother stringing the end of the world out this long, it loses the impact. If you went to a firework display and a few rockets went off and then you had to wait for a half an hour for the catherine wheel and then another hour for the amazing sky bombs you’d not think it was all that much of a display, would you. The world is not going to end.

That old bastard ruined my pint. I hope he fell down a deep, dark, soggy hole on the way home.

THE END!

PS

Short arses should not be allowed carry umbrellas. I don’t give a flying fuck if they get soaked to the skin, catch pneumonia and nearly die. It’s much easier for them to dry themselves off than it is for me to unpuncture my eyeball, the poxy wee bastards. I’m nearly fucking blind here!

Xerox Xmas

OK hands up!

Have you ever tried to photocopy your arse?

I’m not sure it’s so easily done these days. From a practical standpoint, I mean. Photocopiers have a myriad of complicated options, other than simply pressing the Copy button, so a simple copying procedure is no longer the ‘norm’. Multifunction devices today have more options than a modern Space Shuttle and the menu’s are hard enough to decipher the right way up, never mind upside down if you are sat with your bare arse on the glass. Rather than simply copy your arse, you could just as easily email it to the entire office. (considering the shape and size of some arseholes, that’s a scary thought)

And what about greyscale or colour? If the technology is available why not use it? Or maybe you have a nice big juicey boil you would rather not share in full Technicolour. And what about the re-sizing options? I know a number of women who would jump at the chance to use that feature.

“Here Matty, look, I photocopied my arse!”

“No you didn’t. This arse looks like it belongs to Olive Oyl, yet yours would be more at home on the back end of a Rhino.”

Then there is the process of actually getting up onto the photocopier. With your pants around your ankles. Anyone who has tried to get anywhere in a hurry with their pants around their ankles will know that this not an easy thing to do. Which suggests you would have to take your trousers off completely, eliminating the quick getaway and the possibility of getting them back on if you heard someone coming.

I won’t even go into the dangers of breaking the fucker and getting shards of glass right up yer hole. Explain that one to the A&E nurse.

Jaysus, I’m worried now that I get so drunk at our works party, I might just be daft enough to try it. Then again, After seeing Mr Lardy Hole in the video link below, I don’t think I will.

Lol say cheeese, ya nob Click Here To Watch!