Hey All, Best Read This First:
Greetings 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
REPEAT: WARNING: BLACK IRONY. NASTY SELF PISS TAKING HUMOUR. FUCK OFF NOW IF YOU CANNOT UNDERSTAND THIS. I WON'T MIND. EVER.
*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.
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...
Desperately Seeking Apollo Frenchie
Speaking of cool guys, where's Apollo Frenchie? he was a fantastic friend. I miss him.
This post is an appeal to him to get in touch. I liked him alot.
Hey Mr Frenchie Sir, I know you used to read my blog. I'm hoping against hope you're reading it now. Even if you don't want to come back. I'd like to say hi to you. I miss you so much. My email is on this blog, but I'll repeat it here in case like me, you're too impatient to go trawling through dull as fuck blogs for little shit bits of information. This is it: SirFudgeEsq@Gmail.com.
I don't think you can really understand how much I miss you. We talked nearly every day, SamthePoodle told me he's sad you're gone too, it's the only time he's said anything sensible. I played you a nice Brahms Ave Maria when I'd heard you'd gone. I was so down. I still am. I have a few accounts up my sleeve that no one else is on, so even if you want to come back and just chat to me, that's ok. Sir Bailey would like to know how you're getting on too.
Mr Frenchie, I'm ill, I'm not close to my family; my friends I love to death but they're junkies, and if I don't want to wind up in the deep 6 even sooner than soon, I have to make some space between me and them, One of the reasons I have to move. (<------ pathetic attempt at emotional blackmail. Well, I'm desperate enough to humiliate myself like this)
So what does that leave me with? Dudes like you that mean a lot to me. If you need me to take up the cudgel for you against anyone who's done you wrong, you have only to say. I don't mind a bit of blood on my hands for a good cause.
Even if you're content with your decision and just don't want to know, that's cool, sad, but cool. In that case I'll leave you with these last few words: I miss you. I miss your bong, your schlong, your wit, and your wicked shit: the best Californian green. There's no better man to shoot the breeze with.
Love and Cheers
PS: Sir Bailey is hot, but he couldn't pack a bong if his life depended on it. Usesless son of a bitch..
Posted by Sir Arran Fudge - Bailey at 10:48 PM