Friar Cous Cous

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

Saturday, February 03, 2007

The Third Wicket

When being in life, looks and genetic pre/post-dispositions can have a real impâct.

Being male, facially handsome, muscular but slim, with a donkey at third wicket can be a real facilitator in all of life’s male-female rendez-vouses. But there are also many misadvantages two.

Let you let my male, facially handsome, muscular but slim, with a donkey at third wicket, friend tell you what about it that you don’t know…..

Hello, my name is mine, and my second and third names are too. In addition, I am a male, facially handsome, muscular but slim, with a donkey at third wicket kind of guy. But let me tell you that this has led me into many love affairs in which I did not wish to be in or part of. So what you people fail to realise, as many of my children and wives have done and do, is that being a male, facially handsome, muscular but slim, with a donkey at third wicket type of bloke isn’t as nice as I remember.

So let that shit out a lesson for you all.

3 Comments:

Blogger nutgroist said...

i renounce all facial handsomeness and will immediately clean up my sticky wicket, for i have smelled the truth that you emit and im some the wiser for it.

But what of the womanly equivalar?

4:12 am  
Blogger Lil' Nikki said...

Dear Friar,

Stop filling Cippenham with the smell of your unwashed hair, and bathe in the poetry of marketing:

Thierry Ennui

Dog hairstyles are massive in Tokyo,
There's a growing revolution in haptics,
But he's the worst parent I know, With his gristly superplastics.

Thierry Ennui's got it in for me,
But he skis like a flimsy girl,
Climbing up your superhot stairway,
With an eye for your absurd.

Used to be talented, used to be good,
He's only showbiz to a degree.
Used to have potential, used to have youth,
He'll bless all your family for fifty pee.

How can a 49 year old be so young and strong?
How can Vivian Stanshall ever be wrong?
Legs everywhere, waiting to be fed,
Charred to a crisp on his floating bed.

Big Ünit, The Plums, The Shame, Muscleman,
Silent music from long-lost bands.
They were only selling vibrating air,
And still nobody bought it.

And now, despite the efforts of Thierry,
We are named Black Needle,
Like a baby seal with an iron skull,
We will withstand client evil.

Form is temporary,
Class is permanent,
Filth is inevitable.

As long as there is justice, you'll never find us in gaol.
Death to the haterz, they ain't neva gonna rule we!

I... I... I should not have come, but I cannot leave now.

Visit Kilburn. It's like Burnham used to be. In that it's got me in it.

11:35 am  
Blogger Sal said...

i couldn't have put it myself, and in fact, i didn't

7:03 pm  

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