June 19th, 2011 at 7:41 pm by Stupid Rubbish

There is little life is more turgid with misery than the unfortunate sight of a child’s birthday balloon, deflated, hanging limply on the railings of a church hall. Like a small and effortlessly melancholy used condom it sits, flaccid, full of the metaphorical ejaculate that are broken dreams, unfulfilled promises and uneaten birthday cake.

That’s metaphorical spunk. Obviously.

Because urgently cracking one off with a delighted grunt into a balloon that excitedly says “SIX TODAY!” on it is really, really f*cking sick and wrong in a way that even disgusts perverts. And they are perverts.

So anyway.

I was wondering again about the animals and the dual carriageway?

You know… what’s the biggest animal you could successfully carry across a dual carriageway with only your wits, a pair of gardening gloves and a large role of duct tape at your disposal?

I think it’s pretty important to consider these thing facts with a spirit of togetherness, tolerance and mild arousal.

I have decided I’m going to revisit my previous research on this and have a crack at a pig next weekend. I think the key think will be pinning the oinking bugger to the floor, or any floor in fact, so that I can fashion his trotter-capped legs into the basic shape of a rucksack.

A pig rucksack.

A Prucksack.

I would use a female pig too – lighter frame and less chance of inadvertently getting a pig’s spiral peanus in my favourite earhole or neck.

I’m pretty certain I would absolutely f*cking nail it under these circumstances, what about you?

When’s your Dolmio day?

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