i’ve been reading the novel ’1984’. it’s so cool. a dangerously beaurocratic future.
war is peace.
ignorance is strength.
a sick and tired marriage is romance?
i think that the tv show ’big brother’ could gain some inspiration from that book.
imagine that there was no eviction. just one day your roommate was ’vanished’, and never refered to again.
’this is big brother. there never was a sixth roommate. any memory you have of one must be false’
mmm..this licorice is really chewy.
but hard and crunchy on the inside.
why isn’t my computer working? hey! who took my extension cord?!
oh god. at least this time it wasn’t plugged in.
the most rockenest, hippest and coolest band the world is ever likely to see! plus we have the highest content of donkey sauce ever to come out of brisvegas! wanna be my groupie?
as tempting as that offer is, i do have a prior commitment to chew out my own eyeballs.
tyler, you don’t have to actually be a rockstar in order to feel like one.
you just have to be putting it away with an underage model and snort an obscene amout of cocaine.
although, that’s just for you’re average joe. you however, are going to have to be able to eat lead and shit gold.
your friend you got my new hard drive from, he’s a bit of a comedian is he?
wes? he has his moments i suppose. why do you ask?
oh, i don’t know, perhaps it’s got something to do with the 40gb of hard core bestiality he pre-loaded onto the hard drive?!
girl on horse, girl on dog, dog on horse, ferrets in cows, man on postbox... it is all disgusting and i am not amused!
technically, i don’t think that last one counts. if you’d like, i could take it back and get you another, stain free, hard drive.
sicko. you’d sprain both your wrists before you got through that lot.
it’s an art form my dear. you just have to pace yourself.
screw you very much for that mental image. i’m off to snort some napisan.
frighteningly loud farty sound!
ahhh, better out than in.
for you maybe. damn woman!
sweet, sweet relief.
i think you killed the neighbour’s kid.
serves him right for being locked in our basement.
you know, everyone remembers that van gogh cut off his own ear, but it’s not like that was a big thing?
well, he was a painter. if he wanted to make a big impact he could have gouged out one of his eyes. wouldn’t that have been a romantic gesture?
i always thought that it was romantic when you sent me an ear in the post.
that is, until i realised it wasn’t yours.
...yeah, good one mate. listen, i’ve got to go. there’s a shapely young thing waiting for me in the sack, if you know what i mean, heh heh.
that’s right! she’s even got her name tattooed on her side, totally wild man. monique? nah, absolutely clueless. i’ll talk to you later, i’ve got to relieve someone of their ability to walk. oh, yeah!
oh, hey monique. no, you’ve got it all wrong. c’mon, put the bat down. look, it’s just...
dear lord noooo!
you killed my beer!