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My grandfather used to sit me on his knee and tell me his life-story. It was extremely dull, but I liked to humour the old git, even when I was 23 and his knee creaked and he smelt really bad. He had started out as an apprentice
horse wanker, but dropped out due to his parkinson's disease, nervous tic, epilepsy and cerebral palsy. It's a wonder he held down any job at all. He lasted nearly three years as an egg painter, seasonal
hand-jobs are essential for me to put food on the table and pay the rent. Bishops, especially, are an excellent source of trade. I have a big sign up outside my house that says: "Handjobs, £5 each, toruists and Bishops especially welcome. No horses".
It was an idyllic retreat.
Well it was before Bishop-fondling & horse wanking started up a few months ago. Bishops, lured by the prospect of a damned good hand-job from a Jesus look-alike, would get high on crack & go around in Pope-mobiles stealing mobile phones and credit cards.
Yes that's right folks i've been reading Marxist theories on social change. In order for a drastic change to happen a little capitalist blood needs to be shed, riots, pitch battles and secret conversations amongst the local intellectuals. Bullshit no?
JanW
Vern Acula
The Bishop of Southwark
MetalGuru