it's MY fuckin' space, slag...

Yo dudes like check your bad selves to the massive.

word up y'all

you may be wondring why i'm acting so cool to day well i can tell you i've just gott my own my space yes yes yes i've joined the international superweb proper like believe! Actually between u me and the gatepost i think their blog stuff if not as good as this so there. You can check me out as well as my blood brother and confidant MC Poirot check him out.

nice

smell u later

the chicken has declared jihaad on us all!..

This is the ( i think) genuinely catchy theme to troma 'poultrygiest'

Oh well stupid o clock again!

The red lightbulb of justice...

click here to visit the blog of underground folk-core jazz faced freeform piss artists blog!

wha-what- whaat!..

Bollocks! I must have drifted off for the last lovely bit of the winter! Aah well, i've missed out the last few gruelling months o winter. What a shame. I've emerged bright tailed and bushy faced, ready to summer it up like a bad boy! Why not download some lovely full lenngth mixes from the legendery http://www.tribeofmunt.co.uk/Music/Music.htm they have both kind of music, hardcore and techno.

I am in two minds whether to go the czech this year. You thoughts, yay or nay would be nice on the comments board. I dont haver much of a mind and i am extremely impressional, not to mention gullible. Anyway i'll post all the shit wot i dun on 'yere.
x

Tubular Balls...

i've been doing well eating the governments recomended 5 pieces of fruit and veg a day. I've had to give up eating bananas on the tube though, i'm a bit worried about being blown away by some met officer who thinks he's clint eastwood, "is that thing loaded son?". Also i deliver boxed, wind up ticking alarm clocks wrapped in brown paper for a living ad i dont want to complicate things any more.

The tube is a great place to catch up on some reading, just the walls will take up most of you journey time and if thats not enough you can always read half a metro or the propery section of the evening standard. did the underground of the late nineteenth century have 'tiny tim' scratched on the window?

One does find oneself asking the age old question, "is this a fruit or a vegetable" quite often, i mean surely there are more than five raisins in a Fruit and Nut. Cider is made from apples, crisps from spuds, peanuts (not dry roasted, they're made fom shite), in fact taking these into account, i'll see you at opening time.

world wide w*ank...

I've just made a website for my pappy. If you're interested in Soundproofing or acousticly treating anything, he's yer man. visit his frankly, amazing site by clicking on this voice associates link.

fuckin' woo

Sherri Moon

Darlene, don't take your mum to town...

I remember when i was about 10, I had a massive crush on Darlene from Roseanne. There was something about that dusky lesbian in a check shirt and levi's 501s that stirred somthing in me. Maybe it was the dry sense of humour, or the bubble perm but whatever it was it showed me that redneck girs rock, this has stuck with me until now.
It started off fairly innocently, a little dolly parton a little Coors, daisy duke playing pool with some drunk trucker from reno, then whuppin his ass when he grabs her arse as she takes a shot.
Before too long i was drinking JD with Christina Aguilera, drink driving my way across the south with some stolen credit cards and big sunglasses.
These days i'm too busy taking pot shots at the local god botherers and livestock with Sherri Moon and Gauge to be bothered to watch Roseanne. We make our own moonshine and place bets on how many BBQ chitlins cousin earl can eat without hurling. It's a simple life, we mostly just spend our days kickin round in the yard, makin' out an inbreedin. I don't got no teevee but y'all know that Darlene's still hotter than fire ant juice in the vaseline. And remember, as my uncle Silas used to say 'Northern girls tease but southern girls please' *hyuk*

The Porg Conspiracy...

If anyone needed any artwork done for their death-metal band , RPG, horror movie, backdrop etc I reckon they'd do a lot worse than giving Ben a call, check out his website ThePorg.org
for a butchers into his odd brain.

I met this bloke on the train today. He said his name was Dave. I was slightly suspicous of him at first. I'm always slightly wary of alliteration.

Dave reckoned he'd had the worst new years eve of his life. His bitch, Bonnie had promised him a new years eve to remember. she was a choosy kind of gal, not the type to fetch the stick on the first date if you get my drift. Anyway, Dave had been looking forward to this for months, he'd had a bath, got his teeth nice and shiny he'd even got himself wormed for the occasion. Anyway a couple of days ago Dave was just getting ready to go outside and bark at something when his master says to him,

'Walkies! C'mon Dave, back of the car!'

Dave's like, "great! A nice long christmas walk in the country!" How wrong he was. Before too long he realises they're not on the A1-whatever out of town and he's like, "hey this ain't the A1-whatever out of town!" Before too long his master parks his Volvo up outside this really grey, imposing looking building right , Dave's like "where the hell's this, this ain't the countryside!" He gets inside and there's this old lady, she smiles at him and says he's a good boy. Patronising i know but Dave says you get used to it when you're a dog. Next he's in this little green room with this friendly looking guy in a white coat.

Dave opens his eyes, he felt like shit. remembers being carried out to the volvo and feeling even worse. the car journey home was a blur and the next thing he knows he's on his bed dozing like and old man after medication time.

Dave wakes up, he's got this pain you know, in his balls, he looks down and sees he don't have no balls, He's been neutered, spayed, sterilised his bollocks had been removed. Dave felt sick you know, he'd heard storys about his happening but...

Bonnie!

Needless to say she wasn't interested, within two days she'd hooked up with one of Daves mates Sammy, the Spaniel from the darts team. Slimy bastard, he'd been hovering around like a lawyer at a train crash for weeks waiting to get his teeth into Bonnie.

Anyway here was Dave, on the train down to Brighton still clutching the chocolates he'd bought for Bonnie. His plan was to start a flea-circus, always a puppyhood dream of his. He said it was handy since he'd never had fleas until recently. although, come to think of it, that Sammy, he was always scratching himself.