May 23rd, 2011 at 2:12 pm by Stupid Rubbish

We all love animals.

Yes.

Apart from the ones that we lock into tiny boxes then ravenously eat, obviously.

But overall we f*cking love little animal things because they are cuddly and lovely and great and they do mad stuff and tricks and things that we momentarily adore before resigning them to the same monotony of routine that we mistakenly think enriches our own bollock-flavoured lives.

But there are downsides.

Animals have a tendency to lovingly distribute sh!t, piss and other bodily fluids pretty much everywhere in a way that makes their very existence f*cking irritating. And I don’t mean the animals we put in fields and then later, stuff into our hungry mouths – those f*ckers are absolutely entitled to fill their own fields with all the piss and sh!t in the world.

I mean those ones that put it into your garden, house or shoes.

And it’s not just sh!t.

I mean when cats wander into your garden to actually specifically deposit their bottom eggs into your vegetable patch it’s rubbish, yes. And when dogs leave special delivery defecation bombs on the pavement, that end up like happy footprints through room temperature Nutella, yes – that’s unpleasant too.

But how many times do you recall having to suffer the indignity of an animal spitting into your mouth?

You see this is what I don’t like about the ungrateful bastards. I was trying to do the antler wearing tw@ts in the deer compound at a well known animal park a f*cking FAVOUR. I had dutifully bought a little tub of what looked like guinea pig-sh!t, so that I could feed their hopeful deer faces as I drove through that particular small field.

Little did I know there would be four hundred of the f*ckers and they were like starving dogs.

Before I know it I have a massive-headed antler-stag with it’s f*cking entire BRAIN inside my car, it’s horned headpiece stuck under the steering wheel and IN MY FACE. Spilling my £2′s worth of guinea-pig sh!t EVERYWHERE instantly like a clumsy bellend.

It even beeped my f*cking horn.

Naturally I took hold of its stupid face and pushed it back out of the window whilst loudly announcing what a rude c*nt it was for being such a greedy fat-headed sh!t in trying to take more than his fair share.

At which point it spat on me.

It spat.

In me.

My mouth was forming the middle vowel of a formidable expletive at the time. And the deer’s mouth-juice-gob-ball went right into my own mouth. INTO MY OWN MOUTH. Just to clarify… IT SPAT IN MY f*ckING MOUTH!

What kind of a f*cking nonsense of a scared manbaby would accept that?

Not me.

I punched the deer in the face. Hard.

Twice.

I think I might even have spat back at it. I can’t be sure because there was a fog of testosterone conflict raging in my mind and it was a survival instinct that I was working through. But yeah, pretty sure I spat the deer’s own spit, and mine, back into his beady eyes.

As I punched it’s face twice…

And called it a c*nt…

Not my finest hour.

With hindsight, this was made worse by the fact that firstly we were still no more than 6 yards from the feeding station where the student rangers sat in amazed awe at my obvious prowess and instability. And secondly there was a 3 year old child in the car. Now crying.

The moral of the story is this; don’t take any f*cking sh!t from animals and don’t be afraid to punch them in the face if you need to. f*cking man up.

Bye.

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