Until you hang upon such a cross, you won't know a thing about laughter or loss...and you don't believe me now, but you will...you will, you wil you will you will...you will, you will - Titus Andronicus

Hey All, Best Read This First:

reetings and a warm welcome to my blog.

First things first

This blog contains words and references offensive to those who never made it through the maturation process.

The intellectually and psychologically impaired will find nothing here to enjoy.

If this applies to you, dear reader, you're welcome, and strongly encouraged to leave now. No hard feelings on my part.

I'm trying to make this clear to the 'boo hoo brigade". If you CANNOT grasp this simple concept. This page is NOT FOR YOU


*PS: I'm pro Palestinian, pro animal rights in a way that pisses many people off. You should consider fucking off now if you object to this kind of thing.

Cheers Kiddies.


PS This blog is not really fit for human consumption, it's best read as it was written, drunk on vodka or otherwise high as a kite...Enjoy...


Too Trashed to Post Properly Means Interview

<span style="font-weight:bold;">

In lieu of a decent post, due to my accident, I'm going to publish the first 3 parts of an interview Sam The Poodle sent me to complete a week or so ago.

The questions, as you will see, Dear Reader, are psychological in nature. Sam is clearly interested in the contents of my mind (fuck knows why). If you persevere reading future installments, you'll see that in my usual inimitable style, I was brutally honest in my responses. The result was, the interview makes me look like a depressive, suicidal psychopath. But hey, they were Sam's fucking questions, I noticed not one of them asked me to list my good points, and very few gave me any opportunity to reveal a nicer side to my nature, the bastard. I'd like you Dear Reader, to keep this in mind if you read the entire interview that I'll post over the coming days as I try to recover from my overdose er I mean my "accident" such as it was.


Sir Fudge Esq

As a brash young upstart,he stretched the limits of Twitter etiquette, in this month’s edition of Vanity Fair he muses on everything from Twitter to his substance abuse issues. As told to Sam The Poodle

1.What is your current state of mind?

My current state of mind can’t be adequately conveyed in words. But I’ll try to at least approximate it for you. It is a state of permanent alarm; my mind is a paranoid entity that resists any attempt at colonisation of its interior. The first thing an intruder into my headspace would see is a sign in red that clearly reads “You are trespassing. You are unwelcome. Fuck Off”
It’s quite simply my own private headspace. No one, not even God may enter.

2. Which living person do you most admire?

To be quite honest with you, my misanthropy precludes me from unconditionally admiring anyone. I can’t really provide any loving gush for you. I do in an oblique way, admire my Cunta Kinta. Her behaviour is disgusting. But her mind is a pure force of nature, it is sincerely, beyond good or evil, her mind simply operates in a completely unselfconscious, un-self reflective way. She has absolutely no conscience. She is quite a brilliant, magnetic personality, next to her, everyone around her seems dull, I’m not kidding. There is no one quite like my Cunta. And I don’t think there ever will be again.

3. What is your greatest fear?

Being trapped in any sense, psychologically or physically. Even just trapped within mediocrity makes me suicidal. I hate to feel stifled in any way. People who are too up close physically or psychologically terrify me. There is nothing rational about this, I feel pure fear. This is why the space between my ears is a no go zone.


Ok, so far, not so terrible, the rest is...well, I hesitate to publish it. But no one's forcing you to read it either.

See you tomorrow.