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Male Escort for hire
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Ladies! Are you single? Are you lonely? Are you carrying some weight and therefore unable to attract a man? When you go to bed at night do you pray for a man instead of trying to help starving children in Africa?
Wait no more, because Sad Muppet Male Relationship Agency is here to help.
Sad Muppet Male Relationship Agency provides not only an escort, but ALL the extras that come along with being with a man.
The problem with most escort agencies is that their escort will merely escort the client to her company’s yearend function, for example, and leave her with a happy ending. This is unrealistic.
Sad Muppet Male Relationship Agency provides a more realistic escort agency.
I will not only escort you to your yearend function, but I will also get horrendously drunk and embarrass you in front of your boss. When you eventually drag me home, I will pass out in a pool of my own vomit.
Furthermore, part of my realistic duties will be to:
- Get you to cook and clean for me
- Leave the toilet seat up
- Watch sport all day while drinking beer
- Unsatisfying sex
- Burp and fart
- Flirt with your sister
- Keep you awake with my snoring
- Never show appreciation
- Mock your stupid girly ways
- Fuck your grandmother
- Make you watch action films with me
And
- Forget important dates
Book now! First twenty customers get naked photos taken of themselves and the photos shown to all my friends.
Tuesday 27 January 2009
Friday 23 January 2009
Add it up
The top ten reasons why basic maths skills are dying out:
7. The age of computers
3. Teenage pregnancy
9. The recession
And finally,
3. Global warming
7. The age of computers
3. Teenage pregnancy
9. The recession
And finally,
3. Global warming
Thursday 22 January 2009
Happy Stalker's Day
There are people in this world who are desperate and lonely. They don’t know how to interact with other people in a social environment. These people are unable to be in a stable relationship and therefore resort to the time honoured tradition of stalking.
Stalking is generally frowned upon by most country’s judicial systems and a few hot girls I know, but does that make it wrong? No. Stalking is just misunderstood, like fat people having feelings or IKEA furniture.
Stalking wouldn’t be such a problem if more people were open minded or enjoyed the attention they’re getting from some handsome/suicidal stranger lurking in the dark. People are sometimes too quick to point their accusatory fingers at a stranger with a telescope on the opposite building’s roof from their bedroom window, who’s wearing nothing but a trench coat and masturbating, for example. Maybe there’s a logical explanation for this person doing this. Why do half naked women immediately think that they’re being stared at when there might be a funny program on the television behind them, that this person might be trying to watch, Felicity!
We live in a society of fear. Mothers think that every middle aged man, in a panel van, parked outside a school, giving away free sweets, is up to something. Whenever a white person walks through a black neighbourhood late at night and they see a group of youths approach him or her, they automatically think that they’re going to play some awful rap music to them. Whenever we see a terrorist climb onto a plane with a bomb, we start having second thoughts about taking the same flight.
The news has made us scared to live in our own homes/flats/battered spouse institutes and why? It’s because fear sells! Valentines day. Mother’s day. Father’s day. Christmas day. Rape a fat chick day. New Year’s day. These are all examples of Big Brother controlling us and making us spend our hard earned cash on junk we don’t need in our lives.
So when the government inevitably introduces “Be aware of stalkers day”, just say no. Ignore the guy following you through the park, late at night. Ignore the man following in the dark alley, whose footsteps are getting closer and closer, but for the love of God, stop ignoring the heavy breathing phone calls. Have some compassion! I have asthma and I’m wanking while imagining you naked, tied up to my bed, with goats’ horns and pigeon feet.
Stalking is generally frowned upon by most country’s judicial systems and a few hot girls I know, but does that make it wrong? No. Stalking is just misunderstood, like fat people having feelings or IKEA furniture.
Stalking wouldn’t be such a problem if more people were open minded or enjoyed the attention they’re getting from some handsome/suicidal stranger lurking in the dark. People are sometimes too quick to point their accusatory fingers at a stranger with a telescope on the opposite building’s roof from their bedroom window, who’s wearing nothing but a trench coat and masturbating, for example. Maybe there’s a logical explanation for this person doing this. Why do half naked women immediately think that they’re being stared at when there might be a funny program on the television behind them, that this person might be trying to watch, Felicity!
We live in a society of fear. Mothers think that every middle aged man, in a panel van, parked outside a school, giving away free sweets, is up to something. Whenever a white person walks through a black neighbourhood late at night and they see a group of youths approach him or her, they automatically think that they’re going to play some awful rap music to them. Whenever we see a terrorist climb onto a plane with a bomb, we start having second thoughts about taking the same flight.
The news has made us scared to live in our own homes/flats/battered spouse institutes and why? It’s because fear sells! Valentines day. Mother’s day. Father’s day. Christmas day. Rape a fat chick day. New Year’s day. These are all examples of Big Brother controlling us and making us spend our hard earned cash on junk we don’t need in our lives.
So when the government inevitably introduces “Be aware of stalkers day”, just say no. Ignore the guy following you through the park, late at night. Ignore the man following in the dark alley, whose footsteps are getting closer and closer, but for the love of God, stop ignoring the heavy breathing phone calls. Have some compassion! I have asthma and I’m wanking while imagining you naked, tied up to my bed, with goats’ horns and pigeon feet.
Wednesday 21 January 2009
Milking a riddle
About three weeks ago, I was running low on milk, so I thought I’d do a quick dash to the corner shop, which is about four minutes walk from my flat and pick up one or two pints of milk. It was quite cold out, so I had to first spend five minutes wrapping myself in about eight layers of clothing. I locked all six locks on my door and descended the ten stairs to the ground floor, before exiting my apartment complex, which is called “nine”. Um... I saw seven elephants while on route to the shop.
Now for the clever part.
If you reread the top paragraph, you’ll notice that I very cleverly hid some words which separate, don’t make much sense, but if you put them together and in the correct order, you’ll be amazed by your discovery.
Have a look.
Got it yet?
Still looking?
Don’t give up!
Scroll down for the answer.
Don’t scroll down if you don’t know the answer.
I presume you now have the answer, because you’re scrolling down.
Unless you’re cheating.
Cheating is wrong.
Unless you really have to cheat, like on an exam or an aids test.
The answer is....
You’ll be amazed!
In the top paragraph the words “milk, elephant, complex, eight and stairs“ are used in no specific order, but if you change the words around to:
Stairs
Complex
Elephant
Milk
Eight
... and you take the first letter from each of these words, you’re left with the word “sceme”, which is my own clever sceme which you all have fallen into! Ha ha! Don’t you all feel foolish for falling into my word trap game thing! Unless you worked out the answer before I gave it to you. Then well done to you, because you’re quite clever, but to the rest, you didn't and therefore aren't as clever.
So there.
Go away.
Now for the clever part.
If you reread the top paragraph, you’ll notice that I very cleverly hid some words which separate, don’t make much sense, but if you put them together and in the correct order, you’ll be amazed by your discovery.
Have a look.
Got it yet?
Still looking?
Don’t give up!
Scroll down for the answer.
Don’t scroll down if you don’t know the answer.
I presume you now have the answer, because you’re scrolling down.
Unless you’re cheating.
Cheating is wrong.
Unless you really have to cheat, like on an exam or an aids test.
The answer is....
You’ll be amazed!
In the top paragraph the words “milk, elephant, complex, eight and stairs“ are used in no specific order, but if you change the words around to:
Stairs
Complex
Elephant
Milk
Eight
... and you take the first letter from each of these words, you’re left with the word “sceme”, which is my own clever sceme which you all have fallen into! Ha ha! Don’t you all feel foolish for falling into my word trap game thing! Unless you worked out the answer before I gave it to you. Then well done to you, because you’re quite clever, but to the rest, you didn't and therefore aren't as clever.
So there.
Go away.
Monday 19 January 2009
Whoreding your pride
What would you do for £1 million?
Jump off a double story building? Eat a kilogram of cat poo? Wrestle an alligator? Chat to an old person for more than five minutes? These are all crazy ideas that a person wouldn’t normally consider, but if a carrot is dangled in front of their pride, they might be tempted.
We’re all prostitutes at heart, it’s just a matter of how high your asking price is.
I once shagged a slightly chubby girl for a six-pack of beer. Now I’m not proud of this fact, but I needed beer. Some people would have done it for a million pounds, because some people need a million pounds.
In my defence, I was quite drunk when this happened and the girl was already dead, so it wasn’t like she was going to run off and tell people about it.
Another point in my favour is that she had decomposed quite a bit when I got to her, so she wasn't as fat as she use to be.
Six beers though! Score!
Jump off a double story building? Eat a kilogram of cat poo? Wrestle an alligator? Chat to an old person for more than five minutes? These are all crazy ideas that a person wouldn’t normally consider, but if a carrot is dangled in front of their pride, they might be tempted.
We’re all prostitutes at heart, it’s just a matter of how high your asking price is.
I once shagged a slightly chubby girl for a six-pack of beer. Now I’m not proud of this fact, but I needed beer. Some people would have done it for a million pounds, because some people need a million pounds.
In my defence, I was quite drunk when this happened and the girl was already dead, so it wasn’t like she was going to run off and tell people about it.
Another point in my favour is that she had decomposed quite a bit when I got to her, so she wasn't as fat as she use to be.
Six beers though! Score!
Monday 12 January 2009
Queuing pains
Women love shopping, because they're stupid.
I can't think of any other reason why they would enjoy spending time in a place where all staff members are on minimum wage and you have to compete for your purchases against the dreaded general public.
I hate the general public. They’re rude. They smell. They cry to mummy if you touch them there. They’re weak!
Clothes shopping for men is simple. Go into shop look for jeans in your size. Take jeans to cashier. Give cashier money. Walk out of shop. This is what must be done, even if the man is shopping for a new shirt. Jeans are simpler. Deal with it. I own many jeans.
But clothes shops are relatively simple compared to supermarkets. For the love of God, why are so many stupid people drawn to supermarkets?
These aren’t just conventionally stupid people. These are people who meander up and down the aisles staring off into space, ignoring other shoppers. They are fascinated by household detergents. They gawk at vegetables as if they’re recognising a long distant relative, which appears to be a fair reflection on the situation. If you’re standing behind them and waiting for them to move out of the way and softly suggest to them that they either put the fucking carrots in their trolley or move along, they look at you as though you’re the rude one. It’s bizarre.
If this isn’t bad enough, here’s another great idea for mums to do while shopping. Bring the fucking kids! Especially if they’re still toddlers. Hooray. I’m sure they’ll behave. I’m sure they won’t be a nuisance.
There should be a law passed which allows shoppers to kick children in supermarkets if they’re not in a one meter radius of their parent.
To top off one’s shopping experience at the supermarket is the queuing behind brain dead fucks, for thirty minutes to pay for your shopping.
If I’m in a queue with at least three people in it, I can rest assured that one of the people ahead of me will want to discuss the price of certain objects with the cashier before paying. This person will also not pack their bags until all the items have been rung up by the cashier and this person will want to pay by cash. Not just any cash, but the exact fucking amount to the last fucking penny, which the person keeps in a very small purse at the bottom of his/her handbag. This person will also only start looking for this purse after the full amount has been rung up. I fucking hate these people.
My precious life is ticking by because stupid people are fucking stupid.
NO I DIDN’T BRING MY OWN BAGS! GIVE ME SOME FUCKING PLASTIC SO THAT I CAN KILL THIS WORLD WITH ALL ITS STUPID FUCKING PEOPLE IN IT.
I can't think of any other reason why they would enjoy spending time in a place where all staff members are on minimum wage and you have to compete for your purchases against the dreaded general public.
I hate the general public. They’re rude. They smell. They cry to mummy if you touch them there. They’re weak!
Clothes shopping for men is simple. Go into shop look for jeans in your size. Take jeans to cashier. Give cashier money. Walk out of shop. This is what must be done, even if the man is shopping for a new shirt. Jeans are simpler. Deal with it. I own many jeans.
But clothes shops are relatively simple compared to supermarkets. For the love of God, why are so many stupid people drawn to supermarkets?
These aren’t just conventionally stupid people. These are people who meander up and down the aisles staring off into space, ignoring other shoppers. They are fascinated by household detergents. They gawk at vegetables as if they’re recognising a long distant relative, which appears to be a fair reflection on the situation. If you’re standing behind them and waiting for them to move out of the way and softly suggest to them that they either put the fucking carrots in their trolley or move along, they look at you as though you’re the rude one. It’s bizarre.
If this isn’t bad enough, here’s another great idea for mums to do while shopping. Bring the fucking kids! Especially if they’re still toddlers. Hooray. I’m sure they’ll behave. I’m sure they won’t be a nuisance.
There should be a law passed which allows shoppers to kick children in supermarkets if they’re not in a one meter radius of their parent.
To top off one’s shopping experience at the supermarket is the queuing behind brain dead fucks, for thirty minutes to pay for your shopping.
If I’m in a queue with at least three people in it, I can rest assured that one of the people ahead of me will want to discuss the price of certain objects with the cashier before paying. This person will also not pack their bags until all the items have been rung up by the cashier and this person will want to pay by cash. Not just any cash, but the exact fucking amount to the last fucking penny, which the person keeps in a very small purse at the bottom of his/her handbag. This person will also only start looking for this purse after the full amount has been rung up. I fucking hate these people.
My precious life is ticking by because stupid people are fucking stupid.
NO I DIDN’T BRING MY OWN BAGS! GIVE ME SOME FUCKING PLASTIC SO THAT I CAN KILL THIS WORLD WITH ALL ITS STUPID FUCKING PEOPLE IN IT.
Thursday 8 January 2009
HAPPY NEW YEAR
Fuck off!
What's so fucking happy about it? Do people only say this because it hasn't been as crap as their previous year, yet? Well guess what, I bet this new year is going to be crap again and you'll be wishing for a happy new year next year again.
Cunt!
What's so fucking happy about it? Do people only say this because it hasn't been as crap as their previous year, yet? Well guess what, I bet this new year is going to be crap again and you'll be wishing for a happy new year next year again.
Cunt!
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