Captain Poopey has sailed the high seas of mediocrity for many years. But when things get him down or downright give him the shits, he sets sail for this here blog and hurls a tankard or three at whatever has shat him that day. Join the Captain on the poopdeck for some rum-flavoured glassings. Anchors away and roger the cabin boy!
Tankard rating: Three "I'm melting, I'm melting!!" tankards.
Whatthefuckman? Gaarn.
3
comments:
Festy
said...
Supported Poop, good one. Wobbly chins make me feel fucken ill. Harold from Neighbours used to shit me for precisely this reason. I'm always waiting for these cunts to keel over from having a stroke because there's no blood getting to their brains because they're too FUCKEN FAT.
3 comments:
Supported Poop, good one. Wobbly chins make me feel fucken ill.
Harold from Neighbours used to shit me for precisely this reason. I'm always waiting for these cunts to keel over from having a stroke because there's no blood getting to their brains because they're too FUCKEN FAT.
What Festy said.
When was the last time that all fat fucks were glassed? Surely it's time to give them a tankard or six?
Post a Comment