Weekly Bumming Stick

I’ve been a bit of a narky cunt this week, properly feeling out of sorts. I mean just yesterday I helped this doddering old stink minge across the road without even trying to cop a feel of one her dangly rotting tit bits and the day before that it took me nearly twenty minutes to squirt my paste on my 3rd wank of the day. I put it down to lack of sleep.

Sanctimonious, wankster, hippy urban chicken farmers and The Good Life fucking wannabe’s, you know who you are.

Fucking Farmer Giles you are not, you live in a city you set of livestock owning cunts. A city where people work normal hours, a city where when purchasing a house people normally forget to ask the question, ‘Hmm I like the house, but does Bernard fucking Matthews live next door?’ If you feel you can’t resist the overwhelming urge to open up your own battery farm, then fucking move into the country, there’s already plenty of fucking wildlife there and the native animal boinking farmers would probably be glad for a few more chickens to stuff.

The last thing I was expecting to be woken up at 04:00am by was the sound of a cock apparently throwing up, especially since I’d already performed the same trick myself only a few hours earlier. I looked out of the window into the neighbours’ bastard barnyard only to see fucking Foghorn Leghorn strutting his stuff around the lawn, signalling his intent to fuck every chicken there to within an inch of their lives. The arrogant twat didn’t even flinch when I stuck my head out of the window and started roaring in an attempt to out cock-a-doodle him.

The fucking thing even woke up some slutslug I bought home the other week, which was a surprise. I thought she was deaf. I’ve tried looking on the internet for a Fox to Hire, but keep getting dating sites for sad middle aged prostiwhores. Oh well every cloud and all that.

Rightio then, Mrs Hemp-Recyleton please lift up your tie-dye Inca tribal robe and show me your egg hole. No not that one. The one you shit from. Use your green fingers to prise it open, that’s right. What, this? No it’s not a fence post you gormless poultry wrangler. Although a post pounder would probably help with this. Yes I am going to bum you, bum you with a MASSIVE stick


Filed under Weekly Bumming Stick

2 responses to “Weekly Bumming Stick

  1. frankenstein169

    I’ve seen this backyard farming shit on that River Cottage show.. That shit:
    • Saves poor people from dying of hunger;
    • Saves fat kiddies from getting fatter;
    • Saves the environment; and
    • Kills evil supermarket corporations.
    And you’re whinging about a bit of noise in the morning?
    Meanwhile, I get woken up at 4am every morning for nine months out of the year by the fucking *sun* just because people around here are too fucking stupid to realise daylight savings is a *good* thing.

    So fuck you… with your own bumming stick.

  2. Now now, don’t go sucking on Hugh Fearnley-Whittingwanks free range meat just yet Franky baby.

    • Poor people can’t afford to set up poultry farms in their backyards, also the penniless cunts don’t have backyards.
    • Fat kids are fun and jolly.
    • Breaking News: Hole in ozone layer is repaired due to Mr & Mrs Fake-Bohemian keeping four chickens in back garden. Never. Fucking. Happened.
    • Supermarkets are bastard brilliant, it’s the rough arse farm shops and cunting robbing greengrocers that have got to fuck off.

    So, I’m afraid you’ll have to come up with better than that. Why not mull over additions for another list whilst eating your non-genetically modified lentil broth and flicking your allotment grown bean.

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