Weekly Bumming Stick

What’s the best cure for a hangover? The answer is obviously relative, it could even change based on an individual’s current circumstances. Yesterday, the only thing that could bring and end to my misery was fried chicken of the white bouffant haired, ex-military paedo variety. Couldn’t get to my local branch though because of the crowd of cunts impeding me.

Olympic loving, mob forming and unduly enthusiastic torch watching cunts blocking my way to KFC, you know who you are.

You have looked forward to this moment for months, probably marked it on the ‘Events’ section of the calendar stuck to the fridge door. You’ve dressed sensibly for the weather and whipped your progeny into a frenzy by promising a spectacular display of Olympian tradition. You’re a cunt. A deluded one at that. ‘Oooh, it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity’, or, ‘Oooh we’ll never get a chance to see it again.’ What, you’ll never get a chance to see some fuckwit, drowning in a shell suit that a fucking Sumo could comfortably wear, trot past you at a snails pace with a sputtering fire on the end of a perforated golden dildo? Fucking good, as spectacles go this one is so mundane and trivial, it can cause near instantaneous narcolepsy to anybody observing it, that’s probably why they restrict us to only one viewing per lifetime.

‘But Motherfucker, it’s an ancient Greek tradition that harks back to the original Olympic Games and inspires us!’ Roar a crowd of KFC obstructing bland wankgrenades. No, it really isn’t you fucking Hitler apologists. It was a ‘tradition’ set up by the Nazi party in the 1936 games. By flooding the streets and half heartedly cheering on as come cunt trickles down the road, you are basically denying the Holocaust and saying that you agree with a couple of Jews getting bumped off. But, wait. What’s this? The torch has been passed over once again to a new bearer, this time somebody’s eighty year old, dusty holed Granny set’s off at 0.25mile an hour down the road. She should know fucking better, she was alive during World War II after all. Nazi Nan.

Sorry Granbags, but since you’re the last one holding the fucking Golden Flaming Dildo of Olympic Equality thing it’s now your responsibility to face the consequences. Let’s get you out of that circus tent sized shell suit and use your shaking old lady fingers to pry the backdoor open. Bet it’s been a while ain’t it love? What? This? No love, it’s not another torch to relay with, it’s a stick I’m going to bum you with , I’m going to bum you with this MASSIVE stick.


Filed under Weekly Bumming Stick

4 responses to “Weekly Bumming Stick

  1. Anonymous

    Is this true about the torch its funny even if it isn’t?

  2. frankenstein169

    I am totally with you on this one. Getting yourself upright, clean and into public-acceptable clothing when properly hungover is enough of a battle without all that other bullshit as well. I commend your efforts.

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