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...


Happy New Year

Hello, Happy New Year to you.

Optimism is as valid a response as any other to a universe that is unpredictable, uncontrollable and chaotic. There is no meaning or logic to what happens to us in life, we can't control the forces that shape our lives. Once a person resigns themselves to their fate, it's the beginning of maturity and self acceptance. To struggle against a universe that is indifferent to our happiness is undignified, ludicrous and pointless.

Therefore "Prepare for the worst, hope for the best" is the closest thing to a sane response to an insane, meaningless world I've managed to come up with.

So to conclude as I began, optimism is as reasonable as anything in a world where we are the sport of forces beyond our control. I therefore wish you all (except for arseholes, go fuck yourselves, may you die and be damned) the best of the New Year ahead.


I tried, but the dog farted, and that was that

Comrades, I don't want to post anything, I'm really uptight and not in the mood. So I'm going to do one of those "Oh what the fuck can I possibly write about" posts. If I were you, I'd save myself some boredom and leave now, but it you want to hang around for the train wreck, be my guest. I'm a little behind in my planned posts, but those ones are going to have to wait till I can do them justice. It's after all not nice to write garbage about reasonable subjects, correct?

Oh for Christ's sake the fat fucking dog just farted...him...the basenji, with his big fat arse in my direction. Thanks Man's Best Friend... Look, that's just fucked, I don't even want to be here and the fucking dog farts. I'm off, this is just fucking untenable. Fucking mutt.


Merry Christmas

Season's Greetings to all.

I hope this Christmas brings peace and love to those desiring these things. I think as long as you have shelter, food, peace and physical comfort, you have everything you require to get on with life somehow.

It's to those animals and people who have none of these, that my thoughts are turned daily, and especially tonight.
Regardless of whether one subscribes to the Christian faith, the story of a family fleeing persecution and violence, and finding peace and renewal in a humble barn amongst animals is one that still has resonance today, and will I'm certain, have real meaning for all time.

Take Care and Love

From your friend,

Sir Fudge Esq


Lolly Cats : What is a Lolly Cat?

One of the subjects I often find myself discussing on twitter are the Lolly Cats. I'm often asked by many to explain, if I can, what a Lolly Cat is. I made the term up, so no one but me can explain it. If anyone else tries to tell you what a Lolly Cat is, don't listen to them, they are just full of shit.

Here are some Characteristics of Lolly Cats:

1. Their Mommys, Mummys, Mammys are the centres of their world. This is why Lolly Cats are often single, which leads me to my next point:

2. Lolly Cats do not fornicate. If they are male, they may harbour homosexual fantasies (not that there's anything wrong with that) brought about by their strong mother figure attachment, but they will never act upon these closet preoccupations, which neatly leads me to the following Lolly Cat characteristic:

3. They are often at pains to emphasize their masculinity in suspiciously shrill ways: the latest fad is the so called "ManCat" cave (which tellingly, often has "dangly bits" in it...Oh dear God...)

4. Lolly Cats like to eat. They especially like to bake and eat cake. I know one, who became so incensed by a female cat's attentions, he smothered her with cake. Anyway, I digress, the point is, Lolly Cats like to eat and this leads me inevitably to their next characteristic:

5. Lolly Cats are often rotund, heavy bellied, round, jug shaped, etc. In a word: Fucking Chunkers

6. Most Lolly Cats have small ears. I know one that has very large ears, but he is just a freak of nature. So I ignore them.

7. Lolly cats are very sensitive. They are also very palsy. They love to pal around. They love to hug, which is why most of them don't really like me. I frustrate their inverted homosexual tendencies by not letting them hug me.

8. While these Lollies usually coast along through life with blissed out naivety, they can and do get right ornery. It's just the funniest sight.

9. They play with tissues.

10. They don't do drugs.

11. Cynicism appalls them.

The funny thing is, two of my best friends are Lolly Cats. I have a Lolly Cats list, if anyone would like to nominate themselves for this list, please let me know, there is (would you believe) a vetting process, not just anyone can join.

There is a Lolly Cat Society, you may visit them and eat icing buttons, cupcakes and drink pink lemonade, but you may NOT swear, shoot up, bring a partner of either gender, drink till you're pissed or beat anyone up. Apply to:

The Lolly Cats

10 Love Dumpling Lane



PS: NB: Lolly Cats are NO way synonymous with Puritan fuckers ( puerile, vicious beasts everyone loathes). Lolly Cats are really rather nice, they don't mind if you you're a social misfit. They are like the Salvation Army really, they really, really want to HELP you.


Christmas Presents

Hello guys, I suppose I should do something vaguely Jingle Bells so that I don't look like a complete social misfit. I'm going to concede in advance that I won't carry this off too well. I'd really rather discuss the fascinating twitter conversations I've been having lately as to whether ear size correlates to penis size. If you look at my ears, it's an argument that serves me quite well, therefore, I argue for the affirmative. I have a dog friend with floppy ears, I feel a mixture of pity and delicious schadenfreude for him.

But this has nothing to do with presents. Ok, I'm very easy to buy for. I have distinct interests and tastes. My favourite things are: Radiohead, Robots, Rosary Beads, Russian Roulette Wheels, Reading, Vodka and drugs. Simple. Easy.

Naturally, I never get any of them, instead I get revolting little figurines of Shakespeare (why for God's sake?), bizarre looking ugly stuffed animals that resemble nothing I've ever seen and bottles of Baileys. I don't want any of this shit. Last year, my Cunta Kinta got me (I'm not kidding) a complete set of Beatrice Potter's fucking animal stories with, Oh dear God... little musical buttons on it... Not to be outdone, my sister (she with the suicidal husband) got me (and I can barely believe this happened) a goddamn bead making thing, I'm supposed to make a fucking dragonfly out of it. The instructions with this cheap arsed shit from China were barely coherent. But what was clear, was the advice on the packing that it was intended "For ages 5 and up" I gave it back to her last Christmas, with a smile.

The worst present I ever got was a hot water bottle. Not in a nice shape,no fancy fabric patterns, (cos that would have made all the difference) just a fucking ugly blue rubber hot water bottle. Everyone in my family knows I hate those things. I would rather throw myself in the pits of Hell than use one, if you want the truth, I find hot water bottles creepy, they're like hugs, everyone else likes 'em, but I find them sinister. Shocked, I rather impolitely burst forth with "What kind of a fucking retarded Christmas present is this?, You got me a fucking hot water bottle?! are you insane??!!"... Naturally, I've since been considered difficult to buy presents for, as well as rather rude and ungrateful.

The present exchange that made me laugh and laugh till my sides hurt occurred between my weirdo Onkel Alex and his niece. Unky Alex is the stingiest man you will ever meet. He gets women to buy him dinner, drinks, etc which they do as he's very handsome, then he dumps them without mercy. He gets family members to tell them either A: he no longer lives here as of yesterday B: he's died C: Go away.

Anyway, one year Alex bought his niece a stupid little troll head that fits on top of a pencil. It cost him, 99 cents US. As he was wrapping it (yes, he really wrapped it) he broke it,but he gave it to her anyway.

The next Christmas, the niece bought him a a thumb wrestling kit. When I saw it, I couldn't stop laughing, it took me 15 minutes to even straighten up. If someone buys you a thumb wrestling kit, they're telling you: you have absolutely nothing worthwhile to do with your time and your life is completely pointless.

Just for the record, a thumb wrestling kit is a small piece of plastic with two holes. One puts one's thumbs through these holes and it's on for young and old.

Well I'm going to conclude now as thankfully the weed is taking over my faculties. But if anyone wants a blue rubber hot water bottle for Christmas, the lucky first to email me gets it.


My unique take on terminology

Hello, I had a horrible cutting rant prepared about attention whores who impose themselves upon the grieving of others in order to promote themselves, but there's been so much hard stuff here lately that I'm going to leave it for now, as you'll see, I've written something much nicer.

I thought instead I would spend some time looking at good old standbys of twitter vernacular. I have no idea what half of them mean, so I thought I would share my ignorance with you. You're beaming with gratitude I'm sure.

I'm a little high, so while I'm going to try to put these in alphabetical order, and be reasonably coherent, I can make no promises.

Hugz!: Oh dear God, this is just the very end of all civilization for me. I can't help what I'm about to say, God help me, but people who hug a lot strike me as promiscuous and kind of fucking sleazy. Ok, Ok! I'm sorry! I accept I'm missing the gene for physical affection and am therefore psychiatrically defective Ok? I'm not saying people who hug a lot are sleazy, I'm saying they appear sleazy to me, and considering my maturation process was obviously severely compromised, you should pay no attention to my drivel. It's me, not you.

LOFL/MOL/LOL/ROFL/LMAO etc etc: None of these are dignified. I used to know someone, (thank the God of Block I'm rid of him) who would say something nasty and then add BOL! I hate all these little laughy things now. This is another instance where it's me, not you. I just don't like them.

Nosetaps: I think these are meant to be nice. But they just piss me off, they come across as bitchy and patronizing for some reason. If I ever use nose taps on you, I'm actually saying : "fuck you!! :)" I just don't like them. And if someone is a bit pissy with me, and then puts "nosetaps! :)" at the end of their little turn - I block 'em.

Pawcircles: Attention seeking voodoo. Revolting displays of irrational bullshit. Whatever happened to the Enlightenment? One of the greatest, most liberating movements in Western History just gets fucked every which way by this incomprehensible, obscurantist voodoo crap. Every time I see one I want to say, "Did I just somehow fall into a parallel universe where otherwise perfectly rational attention whores (God I'm being nice today) become fucking witch doctors?" to me, they are at once the conjurers and the intellectual captives of their magical circles of superstition.

Rainbow Bridge: Too sickeningly kitsch for words. I would rather fellate Satan for eternity than ever have it said of me "Oh, Sir Fudge, (pawcircle!!) he's over rainbow bridge now, in heaven (hugz!!) with all his little friends, playing with his plague ratsie. BOL!!" Like hell I fucking am, I'm in the Great Beyond laughing/retching till my sides ache at the Fucking Great Morbid Guru of Death who thinks he's ferrying poor hapless cats and dogs to their final destination. Fuck that moronic kitsch sentimental crap.

Softpaw: One of my favourite tweeps here uses this lovely gesture, she is always sincere.

I'll continue with this wonderful and enlightening lexicon, but I think this suffices for now.

The final observation I want to make is: the more sincerely something is being expressed, the less it resorts to the hollow, sham sentiment of kitsch cliches. If I want to convey sympathy, understanding and empathy, I'll use real, meaningful words I've put some sincere thought into, not some fucking meaningless pre manufactured shorthand drivel. Let me give you an example of how revoltingly insincere this sounds:

Pawcircle for (insert name of tweep) who passed over to the Rainbow Bridge today. His mom (insert name if known) needs hugz. He's playing with all his little friends (insert names of any tweeps who have died, whether they knew or even liked each other is immaterial). Now let's have a party! nosetaps! BOL!!



Hello, I'm sorry to be such a bore and post about illness, but I promise you, after I explain what I really feel I want to and need to, I won't raise the subject again, after all, it bores me too.

In some ways, this post is a continuation of the last one, I have to explain things for much the same reasons as I did in the last post. I'd rather explain things from my perspective and be done with it for once and for all, than have a certain tweep act as though he is the source of all knowledge about me, or as a friend of mine put it "the intercessor of all mankind".

1. Over 5 years ago I was diagnosed with invasive ductal cancer stage II, the invasive refers to the fact it had already spread from it's original tumour site and broken through the duct wall. I sought a 2nd opinion which confirmed the 1st.

2. The surgeon said to me: " you're the youngest person I've ever seen with this, and I have to warn you, the demographics are against you. The younger you are, it just spreads, with surgery, aggressive chemotherapy and radiation treatment, we would be prepared to maybe guarantee you 5 years". The chemotherapy was going to last for 6 months, for 15 minutes a day, 6 days a week. I'd rather be dead, and I figured (correctly as it turns out) I probably have 5 years anyway. So I declined treatment. Had the tumour not have spread from it's original site, I may have consented to surgery, but as it had already spread, it just seemed pointless and the thought of having lymph glands removed nauseated me.

3. I've always been profoundly opposed to using animals in research and I always knew that if something like this ever happened, I would decline treatment. Also, at the time, I was working as a house model (modelling clothes for fashion buyers) while I was at university, It was a great job, I really loved it. It's a job which requires a good standard of grooming and appearance, and of course, it made treatment impossible as I didn't want to leave it, especially not for a very uncertain outcome. In any event, I had to quit as the tumour became visible and the area around it increasingly disfigured. As a house model, you're required to model both winter wear as well a summer wear/beach wear, and after 3 years, there was no hiding it anymore.

4. So that's essentially it, people can live with cancer for a long time with no obvious adverse effects. I seem to be doing ok. I get some pain here and there but nothing major, I know the time will come when the faint ache in my rib bones will become something worse and I know that any time the tumour can break off and flow in the blood stream and attach itself elsewhere to continue it's parasitic work, (so dr's have told me anyhow) But you know it's been over 5 years now and it's not so bad. As I always say, we are all going to die of something, and having cancer probably appeals to my fatalistic nature.

5. And the thing that makes me laugh to myself? I received the phone call from the diagnostic clinic on April 1st. Yep. April Fool's Day. I'm really glad it happened like that, it reminds me that it's ridiculous to take one's fate too seriously.

6. As a 'set and forget' type person, I hardly think about the cancer at all. I don't bother having it's progress tracked, I couldn't care less what it does or where it goes, like I said, we are all going to die of something, may as well enjoy what we have. I never revealed this except to a very very few others. But unfortunately, one of those few was an untrustworthy, mendacious, vicious character, so I find myself in the position where I have to openly explain personal and complicated things to preempt the lies and half truths he has been spreading.

7. I'm really not distressed about the illness in any way. I'm very very pissed off it ruined a lot of things, more than just my job, but pissed off isn't sad or miserable. I'm really neither. If anything, kind of perversely, it's given me a sense of freedom that's hard to describe, like I already have one foot in the next world so why should I care too much about pointless things? They're all just deck chairs on the Titanic.

8. Finally, I don't want to imply criticism toward those who accept treatment in spite of the suffering for animals entailed by testing cancer treatment, I understand that in terms of main stream medicine you have no alternatives.

9. I've made arrangements for my 2 dogs, 3 cats should this illness end my life before theirs. So I think all up, I've handled it with my usual mix of pissed offedness and awareness of responsibility.

10. This post has I been, I know, a dreadful bore, I do apologize. At least the OD was kind of sensational and quirky in it's own way, and in it's own unique sick way, it was kind of fun. Cancer is just so fucking lame.

PS: And no, I won't be requiring hugs or paw circles, thank you. I think you pretty much know what I'm going to suggest you do with your irrational voodoo games... not that there's anything wrong with it....

*nosetaps* !! :)


How it Feels to be the Target of Gossip

I had another post planned, something much nicer, but unfortunately, last night a very strange tweep began what I suppose in his disordered mind amounted to a "campaign" against me.

His campaign amounted to sending DMs to others which made the following claims about me:

1. I am a pathological liar (because I don't reveal location on social media, so I guess, that makes EVERYONE who doesn't reveal location details a pathological liar)

2. I blocked him.

3. I laugh at dying and dead anipals.

4. I (the person behind this avatar) has cancer and is consequently suicidal.

The first claim is simply arrant nonsense. Because I wish to protect my privacy (and why wouldn't I? I openly admit to drug use after all) doesn't make me a pathological liar. But this claim is perfectly coterminous with the nature of this tweep. He is a control freak who until I removed him from my account and locked it, would read my tweets everyday like the obsessed freak he became. The point I wish to make is that this person is a control freak who regards me as a pathological liar because I refuse to share personal information with him.
Two tweeps here know my address. I trust and love these people. They would never betray me.

The second claim is also nonsense, it's the cry of an immature personality. I removed this person from follows, unfollowed him, and then locked my account. He found this out because as was his custom, he tried to read my tweets before coming on line and found he couldn't. To add more fuel to his attention seeking efforts, he claims I blocked him. He is not blocked, although, if I stay on at twitter, he will be.

The third claim is simply the spiteful bullshit of a disturbed personality. I don't, it's true engage in public acts of sentiment, I prefer instead to send private Direct Messages of condolence. Some months ago we lost our beloved cat Thomas in very distressing circumstances. I know how it feels and it really hurts. If anyone would like to read my post "Charities, Pick Your Victim" and also ask @ConfuciusCat for a link to the article I wrote about the plight of Spanish Greyhounds on his blog, you can see for yourself how much I like to laugh about the suffering of animals. The only conclusion possible is that the tweep who said this is malicious and deeply disturbed.

The fourth claim, is unfortunately partially true. The person behind this avatar is young, (in her 2o's) and has cancer. But the other sick claim this tweep made, that her cancer has made her suicidal, is simply not true. This strange and unpleasant tweep in his/her sick mind, has linked the accidental overdose with the illness in order to give himself an air of 'in the know' importance when it happened. The person behind my AV was emailed these distressing DMs, just for the record, she considers we are all going to die of something, there's no need to get hysterical about having cancer, suicide in her situation is completely redundant. But thanks for the thought you lowlife areshole.

I believe that this heartless, poisonous tweep has been telling people that I'm a pathological liar because he found out that I knew he'd been telling others what I told him in the strictest, most trusting confidence, and he wanted to discredit me if I told anyone how he betrayed my trust. If anyone requires proof I have this affliction, please email me and I'll provide you with the details. Why not? I'd rather you hear it from me than this disgusting creature.

How did this all come about? It's hard to say. I think I used to give this tweep the attention he desperately and pathologically craves, however, I began to realise that his jokes increasingly came at my expense. A few people DMd me asking how I put up with it, I generally ignored them I suppose. As I began to accumulate a lot friends he started with the "people say all kinds of nasty things about you, and you bring it all on yourself." I believe he became insanely jealous of my close friendship with a particular cat. (He would obsessively follow ANYONE he saw me speaking to) The final straw was his betrayal of my trust. We're not talking about what position I like best, we're talking about life and death matters.

Back in the days when I believed this tweep was my trusted friend, we spent a long time exchanging confidences, I've never once divulged one of his, I never will, I'm far too upmarket for that kind of trash.

What else can I add? Nothing really. Take my advice, trust no one. No matter how badly you may want to tell someone something, tell it to your cat instead.

With the exception of a handful of people, I will never tell anyone in cyber space anything I wouldn't want repeated ever again. I was foolish I know, to do so in the first place.

And just for the record my favourite food is Salzburger Knockel, or is it chip butties, or maybe Skandinavian Kringle, maybe even Siberian Gulag kvass? Anyone who absolutely desperately needs to know? I don't fucking think so...

PS: One of the my friends who passed this information on to me told me that some of the more "gullible ones" were very upset by my 'laughing at dead and dying anipals, animals' and were now "terrified" of me. Well, call me unimaginative, but logically that doesn't even make fucking sense. Someone who clearly has a grudge sidles up to your DM box spinning spiteful shit and you just believe them? Just like that? I sincerely hope that if you believe this egregious garbage you are no longer following me? Cos personally, if you really have such a low opinion of me, I'd rather you just go, just get fucked off my timeline.


It's a Post About Nothing!

Hey guys, I'm so very sorry I've been lax with posting, I'm just so bone achingly tired. That's what happens I guess if you pump yourself full of heroin for 2 weeks, try to withdraw and then overdose, and then have to stay off it. I know , I know, pure fucking genius on my part.

I don't for a moment feel sorry for myself, but I have to admit, I'm so unbearably tired I actually feel overwrought. This is all no good.

I was saying to a sweet and beloved twitter friend a week or so ago, "Moderation is like a boring old hausfrau, you resent her presence at the time, but deeply regret her absence later" Oh, how I wish I'd hadn't have ignored the old bitch...

See you soon

PS Just for the hell of it, the other day someone told me i had a reputation for blocking people. That's ok, I want to make my blocking criteria clear so there are no misunderstandings:

1. Criticize Radiohead = instant dismissal, you will never come back. Ever.

2.Criticize anything I say. Please, take it as gospel, you are just a fucking idiot, go stick your nauseating, unctuous hypocrisy up your arse . I just don't fucking care. Got me? Bye Bye... :)

3. Racist Remarks. Look we all know people like this are just dickheads. Someone said something about Arabs the other day...bye bye racist moron.

Otherwise, we'll get along just fine.