I feel like being incredibly rude today. This is a thread for it you fucking shit cunts.
I felt bit rude.
Its makes me feel really sick as Im worried Im going to knee them in the belly or something and I imagine them like a russian doll with the baby slopping around in the middle compartment.
and you get covered in water.
and you die.
in that picture.
lick it off
I PUNCH EM FO FUN
MARLON: (running in and throwing his backpack down to the floor) Hey Roscoe, BUMS AND POO, Roscoe! Bums and POOO!
ROSCOE: (coming out of the kitchen in a shocked state, still wearing his 'I AM COOKING AT THE MOMENT' apron) MARLON FRANCESCA JONES-ROTHSCHILD! Where did you learn such foul language!!
MARLON: From the strange-looking cowboy man outside of the flat.
(ROSCOE goes to the window, sees the man and immediately double-takes)
ROSCOE: Oh my. Tis El Bottomo. My old nemesis. From the West.
ROSCOE: El Bottomo. We used to ride together in the old West. Side-by-side, the most notorious outlaws in the old West. We'd trek through the deserts... ABOVE THE NATIONAL SPEED LIMITS ON UNINSURED HORSES. And we'd go to old West towns... AND LOITER OUTSIDE OF GENERAL STORES. And then we'd head down to the roughest saloons in the old West... AND WE'D DO GRAFFITI IN THE TOILETS
MARLON: Sounds pretty notorious to me, Roscoe. You sound like you were real outlaws
ROSCOE: We were. Me and El Bottomo. Notorious criminals. Of course, that's all behind me now.
ROSCOE: Because one day he went too far. One day. We were doing graffiti in a really rough saloon in the old West... I was writing 'ROSCOE WAS ERE' and drawing pictures of Beaker from off of the Muppets. Really good ones 'n all. But then. I looked over. And... and... and... and... ... ... and... and... ... and ... there... he was... EL BOTTOMO. Writing... words like BUM and POO and even (whispers something into MARLON's ear)
MARLON: (after gasping for so long that he hyperventilates and needs to be taken to hospital; and then after the hospital people do their stuff, they return to the flat and continue their conversation) That's pretty shocking.
ROSCOE: Yes. That's why I left and came here. Never to see El Bottomo again.
ROSCOE: Yes compadre?
MARLON: You were never in the old West.
ROSCOE: Oh yeah. THE HELL DID ALL THAT COME FRO!>!>!?
M-B: (in a leather jacket, holding an empty box of Tom & Jerry cigarette sweets) I'm too rude to do such things!!
OOJIMAFLOP: Oh go on, please
M-B: Yeah alright then. Look around you
OOJIMAFLOP: I wish you hadn't put me in one of your rubbish ones where you think you're being clever because you're using the most basic and rudimentary elements of metafiction
M-B: I'm too rude to do anything BUT. Come on Patricia Waugh let's get out of here
PATRICIA WAUGH: Where are we going?
M-B: We're going on my push bike on a journey out of the borders of this fiction into an unspoken of universe
PATRICIA WAUGH: I should've known given that I have written on the subjects of metafiction and postmodernism
OOJIMAFLOP: (looks to audience) Oh, great and NOW it's also one of the ones that should've ended a bunch of lines ago
CAT-RACE: Thought as much
OOJIMAFLOP: Oh hi Cat-Race. Are you aboard this rapidly sinking ship too?
CHARLES DARWIN: As fellow humans, am I; on the hunt in this mysterious fictional continent for strange beasts. Why, look over there 'tis a bird that has evolved a snout to adapt to its need for a snout to survive these conditions. What wonders--
OOJIMAFLOP: OK this is getting ridiculous. It has to stop now so I'm pulling the plug-
OOJIMAFLOP: (closing the tab with this thread on on his computer / phone / tablet / whatever) Well that was a disappointment and a half, wasn't it? (pauses and has a moment of clarity) Oh wait. Hang on. I'm not out of this, am I?
OOJIMAFLOP: How did you get in my house?
M-B: Nick Hewer let me in. Your neighbour is on benefits, so Nick Hewer's constructing a spy-hole in your bathroom to spy on them; meanwhile, Margaret Mountford is disguised as a passing salesman -- she's selling hot dogs for 50p and putrid human shit for 30p, and will criticise the person when they opt to buy the hot dogs because it's irresponsible of them to waste the tax payer's money when there's a cheaper alternative available.
OOJIMAFLOP: Well both of you get out. And let me continue living in actual reality.
M-B: Yeah, alright then. Come on, Nick.
NICK HEWER: Can we get McDonald's on the way back?
MARGARET MOUNTFORD: (standing at the front door) Alan always lets us have McDonald's
M-B: Well I'm not Alan.
You, Williamson, I'm talking to you, shithead. You just cost me $6,000. Six thousand dollars, and one Cadillac. That's right. What are you going to do about it? What are you going to do about it, asshole? You're fucking shit. Where did you learn your trade, you stupid fucking cunt, you idiot? Who ever told you that you could work with men? Oh, I'm gonna have your job, shithead