Are you all tucked in and ready for bed? Yes? Good, now I can begin...
...There was once a time in which life was guided not by those festering turds we call laws and governance but instead by the simple act of love. Not to say that the world did not have its problems; famine still ravished much of the Aflican continent and I’m fairly sure that much of the Brippish Isles was being subjected to regular bouts Birdie Flu: It should be noted that after swift intervention from Toby Snare’s cabinet, infection was limited to those with even shoe sizes. Records also talk of a terrible observation building in which the society placed a dozen of it’s most deranged imbeciles and mentally unstable sycophants for a period of intensive scrutiny every year. They were slowly picked off by the discerning public as the least socially retarded of the group was awarded a grant of around 100,000 Stirling Moss Pounds, with which they could rebuild their sham of a life. I think it was originally a home for burnt out or incapacitated and emotionally troubled rappers. Possibly set up in the 90’s, it was called Biggy’s Brother – he loved to cry did Roger Smalls.
Anyway, love was forgotten for many, many years and it was only through the valiant actions of one noble northerner that mankind rediscovered this most powerful of emotions. Now, in order to protect the identity of those in the story we shall change their names. We are considerate people and we’re aware that this blog goes out to tens of people, so it’s best to just preserve the sanctity of their privacy. So, the man in question, let’s call him Hartin Mowarth, was in love with a girl called Carah Sookson. Their’s was a passionate affair, erupting from their lives like a sticky sex volcano. Hartin himself told the rest of the Hotlunchers that she was ‘the one’ and that he loved her calves, they were well sexy, apparently. Their love stopped traffic, dried up rivers, broke dams and even managed to permeate Simon’s iron clad heart – we heard stories of a solitary tear trickling down his beardy face when he saw a picture of them together. And so on and so on. They were happy, blah blah blah. You can fill in the gaps people, I’m on a tight schedule here. Basically I’m trying to get to one most pertinent point here. What I’m about to reveal may rock you to your very core. If you have a drink in your hand then I advise you put it down, for this is a biggie…
Hartin Mowarth became Mingefied.
You get me? I expect you can all appreciate the gravity of the situation now. But for those of you who aren’t familiar with this term (I know, mental that some people still don’t know in this day and age), it means that Carah Sookson has used her minge to turn Hartin into a massive minge himself. Not really too much of a problem normally, but on this one fateful day in August he almost ruined one innocent man’s life. That man was Lhris Cight. Are you ready to find out how? Course you are. This is what the whole story has been leading up to. So here it is..
He told Lhris that the film Enchanted was good. So Lhris watched this film and guess what, it was f*cking gash.