Friar Cous Cous

Trussed-up in a wartime bandage-suit...

Monday, March 28, 2005


Town of shit, town of puke, town of bitter retribuke. Drably housed and rarely hosed, bursting with stupid empty boasts. Dark in the day, dark at night, constantly emitting the smell of shite, cased in grey, home to cunts, imposes the feeling that you are locked into a row with an aggressive drunk. But three steel words does it magnetise, and draw from my mouth before my very eyes, and those three words I'll tell you now, those three words are "Fuck you, Slough (you fucking shit-stain on the fucking Y-fronts of humanity - fucking disappear you fucking putrid sack of infected piss)".


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