When A Sociopath Comes A-Callin: Part 3

The third installment from my book about a night on the town with a certifiable sociopath

 Chapter 4 - The Philosophies of A Hateful Man

As Hugh dragged me along the streets I kept giggling away at the spork in his hand as it performed the hula for me. After ten to fifteen minutes of this Hugh slapped me across the face and stared angrily at me

"Have you been listening to anything I've been saying you dick?"

"Um something about wearing ponchos on a night out?"

"Well, yes but also about my philosophies on life"

"What philosophies? I thought you were like some sort of agent of chaos, just went through life living like a dickhead!"

"Hey! Fuck you, I am not a dickhead!"

He waved the spork around in the air threateningly and tried to stab me a little. I laughed and he stabbed me harder until the plastic just snapped in two. He swore loudly and kicked out at a litter bin

"My philosophies on life will make sure you get through tonight unharmed"

"Unharmed, what the fuck are we going to do tonight?"

"Never mind that and just listen up. Firstly...."

We were interrupted by what I had assumed to be a filthy hobo but it seemed Hugh knew this guy

"Hey Hugh man, what's up?" The filthy hippy asked, his long ponytail threatening to out him as the most feminine guy around, his only saving grace was the majestic beard covering his face. I pondered it as it waved around in the air making nice shapes as Hugh glared angrily at the newcomer

"What the fuck do you want Forecan?" he demanded, angrily shaking the broken spork under his nose, I watched on eagerly as the beard tried to battle the wriggling spork

"Well I was ju.... oof"

Before he could finish Hugh had punched him squarely in the nuts. The hobo, Forecan, collapsed in a heap on the ground, writihing around on the leaf strewn pavement making the odd grunt and wheeze of pain

"Come on, lets get out of here"

Hugh tugged at my arm and I followed after him. As we walked away from the writhing mass that was the hippy we were followed by a shout of 'I will have my revenge, I swear on great Plato's grave I shall have my revenge on you Hughie and your idiotic friend as well!!"

"Is he serious" I asked, I had always been a little bit afraid of hippies ever since I seen that documentary on Woodstock

"Of course not, that guy is a fuckin pansy. I don't fear anyone or anything for I am the great Julius Caesar! Defender of Rome and Champion of it's peoples"

"What the fuck are you on about Hugh!"

"Shut the fuck up and listen!"

He tugged me down an alleyway muttering something about a shortcut under his breath but as far as I could see we were verging on a dead end, a pile of bin bags scattered along the walls

"Now for my philosophies, firstly; never trust anyone! Especially not me cos I am an awful dick!"

"But you said five minutes ago that you weren't!"

"Come on man and open your eyes, did I or did I not spike your drink with a fuck load of ecstasy?"

"But you said I took it!"

"And you believed me because you're a trusting sap!"

"Ah for fucks sake Hugh, I want to go home"

"No, now listen up, number two; don't look anyone in the eyes except me"

"Alright.... I guess, that one seems helpful"

I looked into his eyes and what I saw there will haunt me for the rest of my life, I could see the madness swirling about in a writhing heap fighting against what little sanity this crazed maniac had left, I could almost see the pupils changing shape at random, one bigger than the other. He smiled and I could see the raging whirlpool of insanity gain momentum behind those dreadful eyes, if one were to look into the eyes of Dracula I imagine this is what they would see, utter and irrevocable madness. I shuddered and looked away

"Ooops, sorry I should have said, never my eyes, my eyes are not for mortal souls to gaze upon!"

We arrived at the end of the alley, a red brick wall rearing up over our heads. Hugh looked puzzled for a moment before with a grunt he just turned us about and headed back out to the exit of the alley

"Number three; never, ever talk to anyone but me! Got that!"

He twisted my arm painfully to strengthen his point, I grunted my assent as the pain reached the point just before I knew a bone would snap, he let go and I rubbed my aching arm tenderly

"And finally numero fouro! Never take anything offered to you unless it's from me, someone might have spiked it"

"Like you did to m...."

I grunted as he punched me in the gut. He dragged me on out of the alley as if the whole episode had never happened.

We stopped as he blinked and looked up and down the street, the hippy had managed to get up and leave I noticed and wondered what kind of revenge he would have planned

"Now where were we going?" Hugh seemed to ask himself

I groaned as I realised he was dragging me randomly through the streets of town and babbling madly into my ear.

"Christ Hugh, do you know what the fuck you're even doing?"

"Of course I do, but what to wear, what to wear?"

It seemed he wasn't even listening to me and was having a conversation with himself. I tried to sidle away and get home. I had managed to get out of his line of sight and was just turning to leg it down the street away from him when he grabbed me from behind with a surprisingly strong arm

"Come on, I know just the place we can go. Although she might not be too happy to see me"

"Where are we going? Who's 'she'?"

"Don't worry your pretty little head about a thing, we're about to embark on the greatest night of my life!"

"Your life?!?!? What about mine" I asked incredulously

"Either you will have a mediocre night or the most horrifying ever. You might actually enjoy yourself if you manage to abide by my philosophies"

"Jesus H. man, those weren't even philosophies! They were just some ambiguous rules!"

"Whatevs bro! Now are you comin or are you comin!"

It seemed I didn't have a choice in the matter as he dragged me forcefully down the street to a night I would regret the rest of my life.....

The Many Brows of Dave Chapman

My good pal Dave Chapman has invisible brows. See below;

The original!!!

Like normal folk getting their hair cut in the style of their favourite celebrity I have given Dave a makeover so what he'd look like with celebrity eyebrows. The following is what happened

The Jack Black

The Jack Nicholson

The Nicolas Cage

The Ray Romano

The Angelina Jolie

Please vote on which set of brows he looks best in! 

Also please make suggestions as to other celebrity eyebrows you'd like to see him wearing

Scene 4 From My Screenplay 'Hot Fever'

Scene 4 from my political thriller about espionage and political corruption!

Scene 4

Int: Inside of Car – Night – Kurt Russell is drving with one hand while downing bottles of bud with the other, his cheeks are clearly tearstained and his eyes are red.

Kurt Russell:

NIALL!!! NIALL!!!

A series of flashbacks occur of good times between Kurt and Niall

Kurt starts to smile a little until the last flashback occurs which is Nialls death again

Kurt downs another beer and is now vering all over the road. Lights flash in the backround and a siren blares.

Kurt Russell

Fuckin balls man, it’s the fire brigade, better pull in out of their way

Pulls over to the side of the road. Camera pans out and we see that he’s been crashed for some time into a hot dog stand.

Cops arrive by the window and knock and make roll down window motion which Kurt duly obliges.

Kurt Russell

Wait a minute, you aren’t the fire brigade, you’re the police!

Officer 1

Yes we are sir! How much have you had to drink sir

Kurt Russell

I could sue you guys for pretending to be fire brigade, I could have kept driving on and not paid any heed to you guys

Officer 2

Sir, do you know where you are right now

Kurt Russell

Sure do, I’m on Highway 66, making the trip in honour of my good buddy Niall Browne.

Officer 2

Sir, you’re crashed into a hot dog stand on the pavement of the [street] in New York

Kurt Russell

You lie, you lie to me, just like everyone else lies to me

Officer 1

Sir, I can assure you we’re not…

Kurt Russell:

Shut your damn lying mouth, you liar. You’re a smelly liar face

Officer 1 takes out his baton and opens the door of the car, dragging Kurt out of the car

Officer 1

Nobody but nobody calls me a smelly liar face, let’s get him Lou.

Officer 2

Sure thing Lou

Officer 1

Lou is your name, my name is Grant

Officer 2

Ah yeah I forgot. Well, enough about names let’s beat the shit outta this guy Lou

Grant rolls his eyes heavenward and mutters ‘idiot’ under his breath before laying into a drunken Kurt Russell viciously with a baton, the scene fades away as Kurt passes out into unconsciousness.

When A Sociopath Comes A-Callin: Part Deux

Hugh had dragged me outside and I blinked, a little startled. When had the world become this bright and amazing. I broke free of his grip and wandered over to a tree and gently rubbed my face against it's velveteen surface

"Hello Mr Tree" I cooed softly "Where have you been for my whole life?"

I was grabbed roughly from behind and spun around on the spot to see Hugh glaring at me

"Jesus! Bro, you cannot hold your drugs, can you?"

"Sure I can Chewie! But come on, Leia won't save herself"

With that I ran up the street and hopped into the Millennium Falcon prepared to fly into space to save the Princess. I sat there for a good ten minutes, exploring the cosmos, before I heard some giggling from behind me. I spun around abruptly and slid off the hood of the Merc I was sitting on. I groaned and sat up to see Hugh with two attractive women, all ready for hitting the town from the looks of the short skirts, high heels and freshly painted faces. I grinned stupidly up at them

"So which one of you ladies want to bang my boy here?" Hugh said casually

I struggled to my feet and attempted to speak but only managed a garbled 'blurgh'

Hugh slapped one of the girls on the ass and leant in real close to me, the  smell from his poncho hinting at a recent self urination

"Bro don't worry about it, I got this one but you owe me one!"

"What do you mean 'got this'?"

Hugh laughed and held up a couple of notes in his hand

"As in I'll pay for the hookers this time but you owe me big time buddy!"

It took a few seconds to process what he had just said but I straightened and up 

"Hugh, I am not paying for sex"

"Of course you're not man..... I'm paying for it. No worries"

I turned away from Hugh and back to what were clearly, now that I looked properly, a couple of prostitutes

"Ladies I'm sorry but I'm not going to be needing your services tonight and neither is my friend"

I was quite proud that I had managed to say all of that seeing as my jaw was grinding away like crazy, I was starting to worry I'd grind my teeth away to dust

I started to walk up the street, constantly rubbing my hands on my jeans trying to dry the sweat off them. I could hear Hugh behind me saying goodbye to the ladies

"Don't worry ladies, we'll be back later!"

His footsteps quickened to catch up with me.

"Alright you faggot, how are we going to get laid tonight? We're both high as kites and you're rubbing holes in your jeans!"

"Firstly, I am not a faggot an...."

"Queer! A fruit! A homosexual! Call it what you will"

"Leave me alone will you, I need to think"

"Come on, I got the perfect place we can go to"

I stopped, looking down at my feet. Staring perplexedly

"Dude, did my feet fall off somewhere?"

"What? No!"

"Then where are my feet, I've lost my fucking feet man."

Hugh stepped in front of me, a wide grin on his face

"Dude I know just where you're feet are."

"You do?"

"Yeah come on, follow me"

He started to glide up along the street, like a hover human of some sort. I stared after him for a few minutes before calling out

"Dude, how can I go anywhere with no feet?"

He glided back to me and hovered on the spot beside me

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I mean, how can I walk anywhere with no feet!!"

I cried out as he slapped me hard across the face

"Wake the fuck up man and lets go"

"Well can you at least teach me the gliding thing you're doing?"

"Oh for fucks sake, you shouldn't have taken so much e man"

"But I didn't take any, you spiked my drink with it!"

"Did I?"

"Didn't you?"

"No, of course not, would I do that to you?"

"Well I suppose not!"

"Of course not, now lets go, we're gonna be late!"

I took a tentative step and then another, once I found I could walk without toppling over I followed easily along behind Hugh, waiting impatiently to get my feet back

"So, where are we going Hugh?"

He just tapped the side of his nose and laughed, I couldn't tell if it was the drugs or not but that laugh sounded a touch on the evil side.

"Come on man, you're freaking me out here, just tell me for Chrissake"

He stepped in real close to me and threw his arm round my shoulders, his voice dropping to a whisper

"If I tell you, then it'll ruin the surprise and you don't want me to ruin your surprise, do you?"

He said the last bit in a hushed whisper as he withdrew what looked like a plastic spork from the inside of his poncho. This guy was probably laden down with plastic cutlery and God only knows what the guy was able to do with it.

I couldn't take my eyes off the spork, partly because of the thinly veiled threat but mostly because the thing was dancing around in his hand. I was giggling softly as he led me up the street and into the less well off part of the town...

When A Sociopath Comes A-Callin: Part 1

So there I was, just chillin' in my apartment, wearing my favourite jeans, Def Leppard t-shirt and flannel shirt, ready to just watch the Nascar 500 when I heard a knock on the door. With a loud weary sigh I got up off my foldaway lawn chair and answered the door. Standing there with a grin on his face was none other than my old pal Hugh B. Hateful. I quickly tried to slam the door in his face before he saw me but he managed to get a steel toe capped boot in the way, why he was wearing steel toe-capped boots I'll never know but then again I rarely know what that guy does these days.

"Ray! I know you're in there, I saw you opening the door, you fucking dick!" I could see the top of his curly head poking round the corner of the door as I tried to shove it closed

"Mister Ray is not home" I called out in my best foreign accent, which usually always ended up an Australian accent "I am only simple cleaning lady from Romania, please to not disturb"

Even I didn't think he'd fall for that one but stranger things have happened. Despite my best efforts though he managed to get his head in through the space and fix me with that unblinking he gets sometimes when he's trying to be cool

"Hah, good joke man, come on let me in"

I sighed loudly and long, to make sure he was, as always, an unwelcome visitor. I reluctantly let go of the door and let him in. As he entered I noticed he was in his customarily odd garb. Today, it seemed, he was in a lazy mood as I'm pretty sure he was still in his pyjamas with a manky old poncho thrown on over them, all this brought together with the steel toe-capped boots.

"So whatcha doin' dude?"

"Nothin really, just boring stuff" I lied trying to distract him

"Ah cool, I'll join you then"


"That's no problem, I'm fine on my own really!"

"Nah, dude, bros gotta hang out some time"

"Ugh, fine whatever. You wanna beer or something?"

"Sho nuff!"

"Why are you still talking like that?"

"Because it's righteous, duuude!"

"And now you're just getting different stereotypes mixed up! Forget it, just grab a lawn chair and make yourself at home"

I made my way through to the kitchen and grabbed two bottles of bud from the fridge. I contemplated going back in there and knocking Hugh over the head with the bottle and leaving him outside somewhere, knowing him he'd probably think he'd passed out and just woken up there. I decided against it though, it's hard dealing with someone who can't read social situations properly.

I walked back into my living room, which is basically just a in the middle of the floor with two lawn chairs facing it. The reception was awful but I didn't know any better. Hugh had already taken his place in one of the lawn chairs so I handed him his beer and sat down.

"Dude, some boring car racing was on so I switched over to our favourite soap! No need to thank me, it's what I do!"

I sighed wearily and relaxed to start watching the 'soap', which was actually a documentary on the Nazis. This guy was nuttier than squirrel shit but I wasn't going to rock the boat. I saw the guy pull one of those plastic knives on a cashier once because she gave him the CORRECT change.

After a few minutes of silence and him staring me out of it while I pretended not to notice I was getting uncomfortable so I decided to go to the bathroom

"Dude I gotta go to the watering hole, back in a minute!"

"Cool, I'll come with you"

Christ, this guy could not read social situations at all

"Em... no that's alright, I can go by myself for now"

"Well, whatever. Don't be too long"

He said it so innocently but it sounded so much like a threat that I hurried off to the bathroom. Once there I just pulled down the toilet seat and sat there fervently that when I came back he'd be gone. I must've waited ten minutes or so before venturing back out only to see him still sitting there and staring right at me.

"That was long, he said simply"

"Well, yeah it was a number two after all"

I retook my seat and drained the last of my beer in one as we sat watching the 'soap'. He continued to laugh at.... something, I have no idea what because this was one hell of a depressing documentary.

After half an hour or so I started to feel a little light-headed and strange. Hugh looked over to me and smiled

"How's that e going down, starting to feel anything yet?"

"Wait! What?"

"Dude I put e in your drink when you went to the bathroom"

"Why... why would you do something like that?"

"Because I saw you spiking my drink with e, so I got you back bro. April fools! Ha ha ha ha ha"

"But I never spiked your drink with anything"

I was starting to feel weird now, like my jaw was unhinged from my head and the colours from the tv were starting to dance in front of me

"Well, if you never spiked my drink with anything, then why am I high as a kite right now"

"I don't know.... maybe you took the drugs yourself"

"Hah, yeah right! I've never taken drugs in my life!"

"Then where'd you get the drugs to put in my drink!"

I found I was standing up now and just rubbing myself all over, who knew flannel felt so good?

"Search me" he giggle hysterically


He stood up and grabbed me by the arm dragging me along

"Come on man, we ain't wasting this buzz sitting round here. For fucks sake, I must have put six or seven tabs in your drink"

I knew I should have been  panicking a little as he dragged me out of my apartment and out of my building but the way those colours looked right now I didn't particularly care....

Inspirational Quote of The Week

The new weekly segment on my blog featuring a new and uplifting inspirational quote for the week. This weeks:

"The power of love is the love of power"

                                                                                    - The Man From Mars

Chapter 3 of 'The Silly Boys - Une Livre Extraordinaire'

The third chapter to my debut book and in my opinion the best third chapter of a book I've ever written

Chapter 3 - Clingy Gangles

We watched as Clingy Gangles crested the hill and made his way over to us
"Fuckin' Gangles" Georgie muttered under his breath, kicking a large stone which was followed by a loud yelp and Georgie hopping around on one foot cursing his bad luck
"Oh shut the fuck up Georgie, you know as much as we do that we all love Clingy Gangles" I said running a hand through my hair, fixing it a little "I mean he is the most talented member of your band after all"
""What the fuck are you talking about Jose" Barry spat in my direction "If anything, I'm the best member of that band. Why, without me, those guys would be like a captainless ship drifting around the ocean, directionless and ...."
Barry was quietened with a swift kick from a now recovered Georgie
"I'm the best member of The Bookleys and that's that" He declared, cartwheeling his arms in the air for whatever reason he had, we had stopped asking him for reasons after he walked around the town in a crouch all day citing CIA agents following him as the reason, we decided from then on that we wouldn't ask him questions about his actions unless it affected us directly
"Whatever, I just hope he that twenty quid I lent him last week, he said he'd pay me back when he got the dole this week" Barry said dodging one of Georgie's flailing arms
"You lent him a twenty! When I asked you for a few euro the other day you laughed in my face and continued fanning yourself with some fivers. You son of a bitch" Georgie exclaimed
He had stopped cartwheeling his arms now and was pretending to karate chop one of the trees, making loud grunts and exclamations every time he pretended to land a hit. We didn't even need to ask him about that one, he had taken one class of karate three weeks ago and now assumed that he was a karate master
"Will you cut that out Georgie, Clingy is almost here" I said
"I need to train my delts and tris every day" He declared loudly, refusing to look over at us "My sensei said to do it every day"
"Your sensei?" Barry laughed "I'm pretty sure that guy was the homeless guy who used to hang out in front of my house, I think he managed to get cleaned up and conned a guy out of a hundred quid for a karate lesson.... oh wait, that was you"
"No it wasn't, my sensei was trained by a tiger in the mystical arts of karate deep in the Amazon jungle"
He had no started kicking the tree, his leg barely rising high enough to reach his waist
"Do you even listen to what you say sometimes Georgie! I mean seriously, a lot of what you say is retarded and the rest of it is moronic"
"Seriously dude, you sound almost as stupid as Crudley"
Georgie stopped suddenly and ran over to pin Barry against the tree
"Take that back or I'll use the secret death touch on you that sensei Miyagi taught mein training!"
"Sensei Miyagi!" I was almost crying wiht laughter "As in Mr. Miyagi from The KArate Kid movie. Georgie, you sir have been well and truly duped"
Georgie let go of Barry and stalked over to sit down by himself in a bit of a sulk, his bottom lip trembling on the verge of another crying jag
He seemed to be sulking a lot more of late and I thought I should really aski him about that, instead I just tossed a stone at him and laughed as it hit him squarely on the forehead.
I looked over to see Clingy had finally arrived over to us, a tall gangly ginger fop, bedecked in a nice new waistcoat over a disgustingly dirty t-shirt and trousers that were basically falling off, that man, I was pretty sure, was wearing his clothes until they eventually fell off and he had to buy a new pair of whatever just fell off and from the looks of him it was his teeth next. I barked a laugh and looked over at Barry to share the joke but Barry only had eyes for Gangles, and not the good eyes either, the 'I'm going to murder that guy if he doesn't pay me back my money' kinda eyes. Before I could even say hello Barry was haranguing him over the money
"Gangles! Have you got the money I lent you last week!"
"Sorry Barry, a wakka lakka lakka! I had to give it all to me mum, she beat me at cards last night, a wakka lakka" he said in a British accent
"Wha'? Wha'? If you gave it all to your mum then how did you get that fancy new waistcoat?"
"This? I bought this just after I got the dole, a wakka lakka lakka!"
I could see the vein throbbing in Barry's forehead
"How much was it?"
"About twenty quid I suppose, a wakka lakka lakka"
I could see Barry was going into an apocalyptic rage, his face going red and the hackles on the back of his neck rising. I always meant to ask him how he managed to get hackles like that but never got round to it
I guess it was up to me to diffuse the situation
"I'm sure...."
Before I could say much more though Gangles got hit in the head by a small stone which was followed by a shout of
"You suck Gangles" from Georgies direction and a bark of a laugh
I turned to look over at Georgie, only to see him with a handful of stones ready to throw at Gangles
"Come on now Georgie, lets be civil here"
"Fuck you Jose, you stupid son of a bitch"
With that he tossed the handful of stones in our direction, luckily for us though, that guy had a terribly weak arm and most of the stones dropped short.
"Look guys, I came to find you so I could tell you about the new song I just wrote for the band, a wakka lakka lakka lakka lakka...."
We waited patiently as his 'wakka lakka's' subsided. Chatting amongst ourselves about the current state of the economy and how it could be saved. Eventually they subsided and we could finally find out about Gangles song
"It's called 'Post Lovin' Woman' and it's the greatest song ever"
"I bet it is. Come on then let's hear it" I said, looking forward to hearing the song from, in my opinion the most talented person from around these parts
Georgie snorted derisively to my side and muttered that I 'should stop being so gay for Gangles'
Barry didn't say anything as he was having some sort of rage fit to the side, sounds spluttering out from his mouth as he tried to regain control of his spasming body.
"Well lets hear it then" Georgie said
"Alright then" Gangles proceeded to warm his voice up with some notes on the scale except replacing the notes with 'a wakka lakka's'
Just as he was about to unleash, what I assumed would be musics next greatest hit, Barry recovered from his rage fit and launched himself at Gangles, wrestling him to the ground. After a few minutes Barry extricated himself from a tangled mass of Gangles lanky arms and legs grasping his prize, Gangle's waistcoat.
"If you're not going to pay me back my money then I'm just going to take this as payment instead"
He struggled to put the waistcoat on over his jacket, refusing, as a true Silly Boy to break rule numero uno, to take it off first. When he finally had it on, Georgie and I were in stitches while Gangles just looked on forlornly, accepting defeat
"Barry.." I managed to choke out between laughs "You look ridiculous bro, take the fucking thing off before people see you"
"Never, I'm a Silly Boy and Silly Boys do silly things" And with that he proceeded to strut about like a peacock, showing off his brand new waistcoat to us and I have to admit he pulled it off, he pulled it off with aplomb!
After a rapturous round of applause from Georgie and myself and, surprisingly enough considering the circumstances, Gangles himself, Barry retook his place looking quite smug and content with himself, preening a little after the all round good reaction to his new waistcoat
"Very good Barry, can I get my waistcoat back now please? A Wakka lakka lakka"
"Wha? Wha? You want MY waistcoat?"
"Well I did buy it, a wakka!"
"Get the hell out of here Gangles before I beat the crap out of you!"
"Oooooh noooo, a wakka lakka lakka!"
Gangles sprinted off into the distance with a loud and forlorn 'It were not bloody lovely'
"There goes the next John Lennon" I whispered to myself
"I'm the next John Lennon" Georgie screamed into my ear
"Fuck you Georgie, you're full of shit"

Scene 3 From My Screenplay 'Hot Fever'

This is scene three from my throwback to the 80's movie about one man's determination to get revenge for his murdered friend

Scene 3

Ext: A graveyard – Day. A group of mourners stand around a coffin being lowered into the ground while a priest says prayers. Camera pans out to Kurt Russell standing slightly back from everyone else by a tree, leaning against it with a beer in one hand. He’s obviously drunk and is muttering feverishly under his breath

Kurt Russell:

I’m… I’m gonna… gonna kill that son of *hic* son of a

He tosses the bottle angrily on the ground and gets violently sick beside the tree, his loud retching sounds interfering with the people’s mourning they al look towards him. He stands up wiping off his mouth, rubbing the sick into a beer stained jacket.

He stumbles over to the coffin and throws himself down on it, sobbing like a bitch

Kurt Russell:

NIALL!!! NIALL!!!

Mourner 1:

Who is this dick?

Mourner 2:

I don’t know. Look at me, look at this nice suit! Do I look like I know a drunk homeless guy?

Mourner 1:

I guess not, that is a nice suit by the way. Where’d you get it?

Mourner 2:

I got it in this nice little suit shop down on the corner of....

Kurt Russell gets up off the coffin and glares at the two guys

Kurt Russell:

Hey dick faces, this is a goddamn funeral, have some respect. Talking about suits while the greatest guy to have walked this earth goes six feet under. I ought to fuckin’ roundhouse youse guys right here and now

With a visible effort he tries to spin and kick mourner 1 who just steps back out of the way.

Mourner 1:

Come on now guy, we don't want any of that here. Noel certainly wouldn't have wanted it

Kurt Russell screms at the guy and rushes towards him

Kurt Russell:

His name was Niall! NIALL you goddamned son of a bitch

Kurt after two steps trips over some dirt and lays sprawled out on the ground

Mourner 2:

Noel, Niall! Who really cares. I only just came here so I could show off this nice suit I got

Mourner 3:

You too? I thought I was the only one who didn't really care about this Neil guy. I just thought that this would be a nice chance to wear my new three piece suit I just bought. I don't really have any friend so I thought I'd show it off at a random funeral

Mourner 2:

You don't have any friends? I don't have any friends! Why do you think I'm here? To show....

Mourner 1:

Off yor suit! Wow, it's like we're all only here because we wanted to show off something or other

A fourth person joins the group, a handsome woman who's fingering a beautiful diamond necklace

Mourner 4:

I too am a desperately lonely person. I just bought this necklace as a gift for myself (sighs) and needed tos how it off somewhere and I thought where better to find some desperately lonely people to show it off to then at a funeral of some woman I didn't know

Mourner 2:

Oh! It's actually a woman in there? Well nevermind, that is a beautiful necklace

At this point Kurt Russell has managed to get himself onto his feet and glares at everyone around him

Kurt Russell (shouting):

I’ll get you! I’ll get all of you! Just you see!

He makes his way to his car. He takes a quick piss against the door and gets in. He manages to start it up and drive away, the car veering erratically along the road. Mourners go back to extolling virtues of Mourner 2’s lovely suit and mourner 4's beautiful necklace

Mourner 2:

If only we weren't so desperately lonely. Will one of you guys be my friend?

Mourner 3:

Be friends with a lonely loser like you, bah!

Mourner 4:

You must be kidding!

Poopants MacCracken: Smelly Detective

Epiaose two from Poopants MacCracken.

Poopants MacCracken: Smelly Detective

Episode 1 from the comic strip Poopants MacCracken: The Smelly Detective

Chapter 2 - 'The Silly Boys - Une Livre Extraordinaire'

Chapter two to my harrowing thriller 'The Silly Boys - Une Livre Extraordinaire'

Chapter Two
Those Hips Don't Lie

As soon as Barry had finished giving out about his heart burn we settled down in the shade for a few hours of drinking. I handed out the cans of Lidl brand Excelsior beer and we settled down in a companionable silence for all of 30 seconds
"Ugh, this beer is warm Jose" Barry exclaimed loudly and extravagantly spitting his beer onto the sun baked ground
"He's right Jose, this beer tastes awful" Georgie complained bitterly to my left, a twinge of hate touching his voice
"But I put ice in the bag with the beers" I whined trying to get them to understand
"That was four hours ago! Remember we spent two hours just trying to convince Barry to wear trousers today. The ice has both melted and gone warm in that stupid bag of yours"
"Ah come on guys, they're still drinkable" I pleaded, I cracked my can and took a sip immediately spitting it out. Excelsior beer was awful at the best of times but this tasted like Barry had stirred it with his sweaty feet
"My feet aren't sweaty!" Barry exclaimed
"Wait! How did you read my thoughts?"
"You said what you wanted to think and thunk what you wanted to say" Georgie said judiciously, once more standing over us and stretching, once more looking for a compliment
"I think you mean 'thought' instead of 'thunk'" Barry said gleefully, enjoying his chance to correct Georgie's poor grammar
Georgie pouted stubbornly and started to pace up and down, stopping every so often to pose. Barry and I shared a glance, knowing what he was fishing for but we shrugged and continued to ignore him, which only led him to pose more and strut back and forth right in front of us
I couldn't deal with him though as I had just spotted what Barry was doing
"Aw seriously Barry? After we walked all the way here, across a field of animal piss and Excelsior knows what else!"
Barry slowly lowered his foot from his mouth, spat out the nail and looked at me with a look of utter confusion
"What are you talking about Jose?"
"The nail biting, the fucking nail biting for fucks sake. Why can't you do it normally like everyone else and just bite your fingernails! Is this the real reason why you don't wear shoes or socks?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about"
Georgie finally stopped walking an imaginary runway and sighed exasperatedly
"How do you not get this? Are you socially inept or something?"
"You guys are the socially inept ones" Barry said sourly
"Look, Barry, how many people have you seen biting their fingernails?" I asked
"Loads of people"
"And how many bite their toenails?"
"Loads of people" Barry answered somehow managing a straight face
Georgie and I both simultaneously sighed at once and gave up trying to convince him that basically everything he does is weird. I decided to just record everything weird he does from now on and write a book about it someday called 'Barry Manilow: A Life of Weird'. I took my journal of feelings I feel from my jacket pocket and scribbled out the name and put it 'Weird things Barry does'.
"Hey! Writing down some more of your gay feelings" Georgie cackled beside me, while doing some lunges (that guy would just not give it up)
"Fuck you Georgie. A, my feelings are not gay, they just show off my poetic soul and B, I've given up writing down my feelings, I'm writing down the weird stuff Barry does from now on"
"Hey, that stuff is my intellectual property" Barry declared sitting up
"Do you even know what intellectual property is Barry?"
"Yes I do!"
"Well....."
"I'm not telling you guys, that is my intellectual property and you'll just steal it if I do"
Georgie and I shared a knowing look, or I did with his calves which he had right in front of my face, and I proceeded to write that last comment down in my new journal
"Ugh, mmpfle mmhmm whiffle" Barry mumbled around his foot
"Oh for fucks sake Barry, get your foot of your mouth" I shouted tossing a now empty can of beer at him, warm or not I do love to drink
"Oi! Don't throw things at me! I think I hate you Jose"
"And I think you love me" I cooed
"Shut up!" Georgie screamed "Would you two lovers please just shut up and tell me how good my figure looks today"
We looked over to where he was by 'the rock' and had adopted the classic thinker pose, looking over his shoulder at us
Now it was Barry's turn to sigh exasperatedly with me
"Georgie, man, for fucks sake you have the figure of a 16-year old Filipino girl, what is wrong with you?"
"Barry's right bro, you should probably do something about having such womanly hips!"
"Bros, bros bros!" Georgie said, a twinge of something new I couldn't recognise in his voice "You guys are just jealous"
"Not particularly"
"Not at all"
"You guys are TOTES JEALOUS" he screamed and ran around the other side of the trees so we couldn't see him anymore
"Those hips don't lie Georgie" Barry called after him
We both laughed uproariously and more than a little obnoxiously. When we had finished laughing we could hear the distinct sounds of sobbing from around the other side of the trees.
"Is he crying? Again?"
"Yeah, that guy crys over everything. He'll just finish having his hissy fit and he'll be back around pretending like nothing just happened. I think his brain actually tricks him into thinking that he never actually did any crying"
"That guy is nuts. Beer?"
"Yeah, they're not actually that bad once you get drinking them"
Barry and I sat in a companionable silence, or as much of a silence as you can get when with Barry, what with all the yawning and sneezing
"Aaaaaatchooooo"
"Hay fever?" I asked knowing the answer regardless
"No! What are you talking about?"
"Nothing" I sighed wearily
We were just polishing off our fourth beer when Georgie came back around to us, a smile plastered on his face and the strut back in his gait
"Hey guys! I just went for a piss"
"A fifteen minute long piss" I asked with mock surprise
"Yeah, whatever" Georgie said evasively
"Sure you weren't doing something else back there?"
"Of course I'm sure. Now shut the fuck up and give me a beer"
The three of us sat back to drink ourselves into oblivion and enjoy the sunny day when Barry called out
"Is that someone coming over the hill?"
Georgie and I both looked over to where he was pointing. We couldn't see anything to begin with but then we suddenly saw a mop of ginger hair coming over the top of the hill
We watched for a few more minutes until a face appeared
"Clingy Gangles" we cried out in unison.....

My Foray Into Scientology: Part 1

Recently I signed up for 6 months free membership to the Church of Scientology (on their website www.iasmembership.org), mostly out of procrastination and part out of curiosity as to what people would pay so much money just to belong to something like this and a little bit because I hoped I would get to meet Tom Cruise or John Travolta in real life nad not just in my dreams (sigh).

Just the other day I finally got my membership card in the post declaring me an official member of the Church of Scientology, a little bit of me felt like I had sold my soul and a little bit felt excited to be doing something new and exciting and mostly I felt nothing at all, being part of Scientology doesn't make you suddenly a superhuman like I thought it would. I almost threw the damn card out and go back to worshipping great Poseidon but I thought better of it and said I'd give Scientology a go.

So, dear readers, tune in over the following weeks and months where I will be trying the following while a member of the Church of Scientology;

1. Try to get discounts at local shops, restaurants, pubs and other local proprietors
2. Try and see if I can get as much free stuff as I can from the Church of Scientology
3. Use my new Scientology superpowers for the good of all
   
4. See if I can actually convince people to convert to Scientology
5. Gain VIP access to various clubs, gigs and other assorted events
6. Get away with absurd and outrageous acts by claiming I'm a Scientologist

Tune in next week, same Scientology place, same scientology hour!

The Silly Boys - Une livre extraordinaire!

This is the first chapter of my book that is entitled 'The Silly Boys' named after a gang I once belonged to way back in the late 90's.

Chapter 1 - Yawnsville

It was warm, warmer than any other Summer we'd ever had. We wanted to take off our leather jackets but that would've meant breaking rule one, 'A silly boy never takes his jacket off in any situation'. So we walked down the street in the sweltering heat being cooked alive in our rhinestone leather jackets.
I turned to the left after a particularly long and loud yawn drew my attention to Barry. Georgie and I both looked at him expectantly after such a drwn out and dramatic yawn. Barry however looked at us as if we were the ones who'd tried to attract his attention.
"Wha'? Wha'?" he demanded in a British accent despite being from Killarney. He scratched at his beard and scratched a mane of curls that was rapidly thinning.
"You were the one looking for our attention" I complained irritably "Always with the dramatic with you Barry!"
"By Excelsior you can be annoying Barry" Georgie complained sourly, I say sourly but he was always in a sour mood anyway so I should say he complained in a normal fashion for him
"But I was just yawning Jose!" Barry complained, a slight whie in his voice, trying to sound casual about his dramatic yawn
"I wouldn't mind only that everything you do is so dramatic, trying to get our attention" Georgie seemed to be in an even more bitter mood today than was usual. Maybe it was te fact that he was a curly headed fuck or that neither Barry or I had commented on his jhorts, despite his incessant chatter about them
"Dramatic? How am I dramatic?" Barry exclaimed, gesturing wildly with his arms his voice trembling on the verge of a falsetto
"Well for one thing your sneezing attracts the attention of half the town" Georgie said, flashing the receipt for his jhorts in front of our faces. Barry hastily stopped pretending to about to sneeze and glared indignantly at Georgie
"I do not!" his voice threatened to break out into song, something to the tune of a Queen song no doubt knowing him
"And the constant giving out. 'Oooh my feet 'urt' or 'Ooooh I've got heartburn, where are my wennie!'" I said while grabbing the receipt from Georgie's hand and throwing it in the bin
Barry gave up the sudden limp he had and shut his mouth quickly, hurrying to catch up with me and Georgie
"I don't do any of those things! If anything, you and Georgie are the dramatic complainers in this gang. Always giving out about how the women in clubs you chat up have boyfriends! Not every girl you talk to has a boyfriend, you know! It's probably just something to do with the way Georgie is always wearing jhorts, showing off his feminine calves, and you, Jose, always groping them inappropriately twenty seconds into the conversation"
"Hey man, jhorts are awesome"
"It's not my fault I've got wandering hands. They do what they do and I do what I do and we all get along famously"
"Hah, you guys suck"
"Well I don't know where you get off making fun of us Barry. Today you weren't even going to wear anything except underwear and that leather jacket out"
"Wha'? It's awflly warm out today!"
"Well wear shorts or something then"
"No! Never!"
"Is this another one of your weird things?"
"What weird things?"
We reached the end of the street and turned left down an alley that smelled suspiciously of sex and vomit. I don't know which one turned me on but I was definitely sporting a stiffy by the time we exited the other side and made our way across the street to the park on the far side
"You know! Your weird things"
"No, I don't know! Tell me"
"Don't tell us what to do you dick!"
"Just tell me!"
Georgie sighed dramatically to my right and just shook his head, seems it was up to me to tell Barry what was so weird about him
"Well for example, we've just walked all the way from the top of the town to the park. A good 500 yards and all the way you've been wearing no shoes or socks!"
"So? I like to let my feet breathe! What's weird about that?"
"What does that even mean? Let your feet breathe?"
"I don't know. I just heard a guy saying it on the television once and it's stuck with me"
"So you're basing your no shoes policy on the fact that a guy on the television once said he did it to let his feet breathe?"
"So wha'? It's normal. Give me another example of a weird thing"
"Well the constant heartburn. How can you have heartburn all the time?"
"I just do, alri'!"
"That's just not possible" Georgie burst out angrily from beside me before lapsing into what he thought was a cool silence while strutting in his jhorts
"Alright Georgie, calm down pal" I looked over to Barry nad rolled my eyes dramatically and pointed blatantly at Georgie while 'whispering' "Diva" to him but Barry wasn't taking the bait
"Look, having heartburn all the time isn't weird ok?"
"Sure it's not"
"And I'm not a diva" Georgie pouted sulenly
"Sure you're not!"
The two silly boys stared at me angrily before lapsing into silence. We kept on walking through the park, kicking childrens footballs away and angrily swatting away flies from our sweaty bodies, still refusing to break rule number one.
"Well, you've got a stupd moustache Jose" Georgie piped up
I gasped and stared at him
"I don't think that thing constitutes a moustache Georgie" Barry cackled beside me, stroking his own full bodied beard
I stared angrily at my two fellow gang members for a full half minute before taking a moustache comb from the pocket of my jacket and brushing the fw strands of moustache that hung in clumps on my upper lip
"I was told I looked sexy with this moustache" I declared angrily, brushing my moustache "Yeah, by Big Red! That one would tell anyone anything if she thought it meant gettin' the ride" Georgie was openly enjoying himself now, the strut back. He was walking slightly ahead of me and Barry now making sure we could see his feminine calves being shown off by his jhorts
"Yeah, remember when she told you that your hair wasn't that stupid looking Georgie and you rode her there and then out in the shed" Barry laughed beside me
Georgie pulled up then and glared back at Barry
"And what about the time she told you you had a full head of hair Barry and you rode her in... wait where did you ride her?"
Barry looked embarassed and looked away
"Oh come on and tell us Barry, we'll keep it between us Silly Boys" I coaxed
"Oh alright, stop badgering me. We rode in the shed as well!"
"Aw sick" Georgie exclaimed
I quickly tried to change the subject
"So how about them Red So...."
"You rode her in the shed as well" the two other Silly Boys exclaimed at once
We all suddenly looked embarassed and refused to make eye contact for a while as we continued walking through the park. We continued on down until we reached the far end of the park and stopped at a clump of trees
"Aw, fuckin finally" I exclaimed and sat down with my back against the trunk of one of the trees
"Finally we can relax" Georgie sighed sinking down onto one of the rocks under the shade of the tree
We had both just started to relax when suddenly our peacefulness was broken by a long drawn out yawn and a sneeze
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaatchooooooooo!!! Ugh, heartburn! Where are my wennie....."

Scene 2 From 'Hot Fever'

Here is Scene Two from my screenplay 'Hot Fever'. Please enjoy

SCENE 2

Ext. Still in same parking spot. Niall and Kurt finish their fist pump and manly laughter.

Niall Browne

: Come on, my car’s across the street, let’s go find somewhere else to drink.

Kurt Russell:

Cool beans

The two start to make their way across the parking lot when Kurt pulls up suddenly.

Kurt Russell:

I need to go back and get my beers, I’ll meet you at your car in two seconds.

Niall continues to the car while Kurt goes back to the bar. As Kurt walks, smiling in anticipation of the boss night of drinking with his BFF Niall he suddenly hears a loud screeching of tires followed by a thump and a loud feminine scream.

He spins around, a look of horror on his face, only to see his best bud go flying through the air, parachute pants flapping aimlessly as the body spins in the night sky. Kurt Russell runs to the body and cradles the dead corpse of Niall in his arms. Strong, manly tears run down his cheeks as he sits there. His crying is cut short by a loud cackle from the truck that hit Niall. It pulls up beside Kurt and a loud sneering voice comes down

A head pokes out the window. A curly headed fuck with a pencil think moustache sneers down at Kurt. His voice is slightly high pitched and whiny. He's wearing a suit and a trillby hat.

A weird guy is sitting in the seat beside him, mumbling incoherently. This guy apears to be Harold's right hand man

Harold O’Donoghue:

Crying again are we? You fucking pansy!

Kurt Russell:

I know that voice. My nemesis Harold. Harold you stinking son of a catfish. Why’d you do this?

Harold O’ Donoghue:

Reason? Reason? You demand a reason from me? People with moustaches don’t need to give explanations to anyone nor do they need to have reasons to do anything either.

Kurt Russell:

So… so you’re saying you did this out of spite?

Harold O’Donoghue:

Damn skippy! You and I have a long and complicated history detailing why we hate each other but is too long to put into a flashback right now so the audience will just have to accept we hate each other for legitimate reasons and I’ll do anything to make your life miserable. Hah ha! See you in hell pansy

With a honk on the horn of the truck Harold speeds off laughing maniacally leaving Kurt standing forlornly in the middle of the road

Kurt Russell:

Damn you Harold! Damn you to hell! I’ll have my revenge for my best friend Niall! I’ll have my REVENGE!

He punches the air angrily and kicks out in frustration, accidentally hitting Niall’s corpse.

Scene 1 From My Screenplay 'Hot Fever'

This is the first scene from my screenplay 'Hot Fever', which is titled after the name of a pizza I found in a pizzeria in France. It's not formatted completely right so far so be as critical as can be with it!

Hot Fever

SCENE 1

Ext: A shifty looking dive of a biker bar – night – The camera starts on the LA skyline, panning across the more affluent area of the city to the poorer parts until finally it alights upon the dive bar. Sirens blare in the background. Two guys are fighting outside while another takes a piss against the two fighting guys.

Camera zooms in to the door which opens revealing the interior

Int: The interior of the bar is a complete shithole. Drunken bikers down pints of beer while others are slumped unconscious on tables. Waitresses weave in and out among the drunken bikers, smiling patiently at the cat-calls and slapping wandering hands. A fight breaks out over at one of the pool tables.

Biker 1:

Hey! Shithead! What the dickens do you think you’re doing?

Biker 2:

All I did was sink the black to win the game

Biker 1:

Exactly! At this table the house always wins. Now tell me who won the game

Biker 1’s cronies lean over his shoulder sneering menacingly and cracking knuckles

Biker 2:

Ah fuck it, fine you win. (Whispers) Ass

Biker 1:

Damn straight I win. Now boys tell him what happens to people who lose at my table

Biker 3:

We shake hands and compliment him on a game well played.

Biker 1:

No you thundering idiot. We beat twelve shades of shit out of him.

Biker 1 and his cronies lay into Biker 2 who has plainly pissed himself and may also have shit himself.

The camera pans around the bar to a man looking at the fight and shaking his head ruefully at their antics. He turns back on his seat and leans on the counter. He looks around shiftily for a minute and surreptitiously leans down for a second and comes back up with a bottle of bud in one hand. He takes a long slug of it and sighs contentedly.

Suddenly the grizzled barman (Possibly Jeff Bridges?) appears in front of him

Barman

: Hey there guy, you buy that beer here?

There’s a hint of menace in his voice

Kurt Russell:

Sure did buddy and a delicious beer it is.

The barman takes a step to one side letting Kurt Russell see the sign behind his back. A large Coors Light sign shines behind him. Kurt Russell looks around the bar and realises that all the taps are for Coors, the fridges are full of Coors, there’s a Coors sales rep in the corner and the barmans tattoo clearly says ‘Coors til I die’, his eyepatch is also Coors sponsored. Kurt Russell gulps audibly

Kurt Russell:

Come on now guy, I don’t want no trouble. Just let me finish my beer and I’ll leave

Barman:

(spits in Kurt Russell’s beer and laughs) OK pal, go ahead and finish your beer

Kurt Russell stares at the beer with a look of shock on his face

Kurt Russell:

Never in all my life have I ever seen someone despoil a bottle of delicious and refreshing Bud before. Pal, you’ve brought this on yourself.

Kurt Russell angrily punches the bottle of bud away from himself and jumps up on to the counter. The barman just stares at him, a look of confusion on his face. Before he can do anything Kurt Russell roundhouse kicks him in the face. The barman is sent flying backwards crashing into one of the fridges. As he slumps down a cascade of Coors light bottles crashes on his head.

Kurt Russell:

Now that’s what I call a Coors day in hell

Turning around laughing at his own joke Kurt Russell fails to see the entire bar of bikers looking straight at him. Biker 1 drops the bloody body of Biker2 and shouts to the crowd

Biker 1:

He just roundhouse kicked Gentle Louie in the face and made a terrible pun about it. We gonna let him get away with that?

Biker 3:

That’s ‘Are we going to let him get away with that’

Biker 1 backhands Biker 3 across the mouth while the rest of the bar charges at Kurt Russell.

Kurt Russell with a loud cry of ‘Big Trouble in Little China’ leaps into the middle of the crowd. He takes a few hits from the bikers and is knocked back his lip bloodied. Suddenly he grins and leaps into action roundhouse kicking every biker in his way. Left foot, right foot, he doles out roundhouse kicks like they were going out of fashion until finally it’s only him and Biker 1 left. Biker 1 now looks visibly afraid for the first time

Biker 1:

Hey guy I didn’t mean nothing by it.

Kurt Russell:

Well bub, it seems it’s my roundhouse kick versus your backhand (Biker 1 lifts his hand nervously)

Biker 1:

Come on, can’t we come to a diplomatic con….

Kurt Russell doesn’t let him finish as he lays into him with an almighty roundhouse kick sending Biker 1 spinning through the air and landing on one of the pool tables.

Kurt Russell:

Looks like somebody went roundhouse the world in eighty kicks. Hah!

With an unbearably smug grin he walks out the front door into the parking lot. As he walks towards the streer he meets another guy coming towards him wearing bright yellow parachute pants and looking quite obviously stoned. Kurt smiles and waves and the newcomer smiles back

Kurt Russell:

Niall you son of a gun, where the hell were you? I had to roundhouse kick the ass of everybody in there

Niall Browne:

I got held up by traffic. I assume it’s safe to say we won’t be drinking there tonight. Being a total boss again were we?

Kurt Russell:

Damn straight esse

The two bromigos pump fists. As the two fists hit an explosion occurs from their fists and from the fiery carnage two words appear HOT FEVER.

Cue theme to Hot Fever

Three Things I Learned From My Interview With A Pornstar

Last week I managed to wing-dangle an interview with a porn-star by pretending to be a reporter from Time Magazine and writing a piece for their 'Porn-star of The Year' edition (There's a reason she works in this industry)

Pornstar of the Year contender

1. They Don't Like Taking Their Work Home

In an effort to make her more at ease when she arrived I decided to wear something she was used to seeing on extremely handsome gentlemen such as myself. It took me about two hours to choose between plumber or pool-boy. In the end my love of speedos and tank tops won out- pool boy it was.

What is up? My cock obviously

Then to set the mood I dimmed the lights of the motel room I had rented and started playing some cheesy 80's music, music which I believed made them want sexy men like myself even more....

As I waited for her arrival I sat back and brushed the fake moustache I had rented for the interview. I was ready to wow her

Standard issue to all Time magazine reporters

Half an hour and one well groomed fake moustache later there was a knock on my door.

"Come een. Eet ees open" I called out in my best pool-boy accent.

The door swung open and there stood a woman in a fashionable pant suit and less than hookerish make-up

"what the hell" I thought to myself "Where's the sexy bikini, stripper heels and pouting lips"

She took a step back as I was in fact standing and screaming my thoughts at her. She stepped towards me, a bottle of mace in one hand

"What the hell is going on here. Is this the interview for Time? Cos if it isn't then I am leaving cos it looks like some sort of porn movie is being played out here"

After a brief explanation she explained that she was uncomfortable with my mood setting and asked that I make this into something a little more normal

With a tear in my eye I put on a robe over my outfit and switched off the hidden camera above the bed

2. Prefer To Be Called By Real Name And Not Their Porn Name

After we got over the initial confusion and she checked my credentials a sheet of paper that stated I was in fact a Time reporter and anyone that doesn't believe it should suck my awesome dick. Unfortunately she didn't take the hint.

As we settled down opposite each other, her chewing gum so teasingly and me making kissy faces at her I started the interview

Me: So, Alotta Vagina, how long have you been in the business?

Alotta: Please don't call me that. My name is Tracy We......

Me: Hush now Alotta, I'm asking another question. How many dicks would you say you've sucked over your illustrious career. I imagine there has been a-lotta cocks, I think?

I laughed uproariously at my own very, clever joke but Alotta was not impressed

Alotta: Hey asshole! Stop calling me by that name and lets get back to being get serious in this interview

I wondered how she had thought this had ever been a serious interview as I had never had a pen or paper and was actively rubbing my crotch and making mewing sounds as she spoke

Me: Alotta, Alotta, Alotta, please calm down. You're causing me a-lotta hassle here *mew*

I started laughing again at my own joke. She just stared sullenly at me

Me: Are you PMSing *mew* Would you like me to go down to the shop and get you some bandages? I know how bad the bleeding can get down there. I could grab some febreeze as well, I'm no doctor but I imagine it would clear up that disgusting mess down there *mew*

Febreze: Solving all women's monthly problems

In response she smashed her hand bag into my face. I concluded that she was indeed PMSing and quickly shooed my badger photographer out of the room, there was no way I was going to have another pornstar mauled by that fucker

3. Not As Easy As They Appear In The Videos

By this point the interview was clearly over. She had ruined the mood I had set and refused to answer ay of my questions and was now leaving. Luckily I had one last ace in the hole. With all the speed of a woundded three toed sloth I dashed over to my dresser and drew it out.

"Hey Alotta, Alotta Vagina" I shouted out while simultaneously thinking that if she turns to look back then she's interested in me

She spun round when she heard the garbled cry of a madman, I had taken several horse tranquilizers before she arrived in the hope of having the most awesome sex of my life and my speech was effected but for this next part no words were needed

I tossed the item to her and she instinctively reached out to grab it, her fingers grabbing it like she would soon be grabbing my dick.

She looked down in mock horror at what she was holding, what a funny gal. She dropped the ten dollar bill and condom I had used for all my sexual conquests since high-school ( two for all you discerning gentlemen out there) and ran screaming from the room

I ran after her for a few seconds but gave up and tried the same trick on the prostitute that was skulking around outside my motel room all day and had the third best sex of my life