Monday, April 21, 2008

Broad St

Drink up you fucker; swill it down with Viking gusto. The bubbles in your glass are escaping pockets of pure fun, so get that mess down your neck. There’s no shame in being sick, only in slowing or stopping altogether. Punish yourself; it’s been a hard week, you deserve it. Smash those drinks into your gullet, rape your wallet and bloat your liver to the size of the Duff Blimp. Laugh through your blood matted hyena muzzle while you hunt in your tight fcukshirt pack. Throw the cash you hate to earn around like confetti, just to dull the pain of a whole week of your life wasted to earn it. Dance like EVERYBODY’S watching, octopus hands flailing and pawing any warmbody that stumbles near. Pure Id freed by cheap gaudy coloured alcoshots and preening ego alpha male atmosphere. Fuck everyone, tonight you are god, the hard man, a 12inched cock swaggering gold plated, card carrying, double hard, lady killing Geeza.

But tomorrow you will be a twat, with a job you hate, a mortgage, a headache and a girlfriend that sucks your best friend off when you go play golf.


Blogger Ultra Toast Mosha God ranted..

..or Corn Street.

They hunt in packs.


1:11 PM  
Blogger Puck ranted..

it's a depressing fact that there is a Broad st in every town.

4:30 PM  

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