This isn't part of the story... Who's going to collect all the comments and put them into one big post so it all makes sense... shotgun not me.
In his other hand Ferguson held the leads of his two lap dogs, he called them Woy and David. Woy was an old and senile dog and started to piss on Maureen's carpet, David was a more obedient dog and licked his masters feet, Alex had planned to leave his vast fortune to David in his will but most of his family and lovers thought this was a **** idea. And it had been, as it was David who had buried the dildo under old trafford instead of using it "I love you Alex, but right now I've got to go out and sort some business out. Its ok for you retired folk, write a trashy novel every now and then, do a rambling talk for the WI and make a **** load of money and swan about the world. Some of us have to work on spending a shed load of money given to us by a crazy Russian." said Maureen. Across town Sisu, Toasterman and RHC were heading back to the base camp, The Cheese, to work out a plan of action to stop Maureen getting the Dildo...
The space- ship would like to take off as soon as possible. There is a problem, they are running low on fuel. "What are we going to do"?, asked the captain
"Which ****ing tosspig turned the cricket over onto the ****ing Sci-fi channnel?!" RHC Roared, angrily turning the test match back on. "We're trying to come up with a ****ing battle strategy, you bunch of Jizz-gargling ****hounds from Hades!" . . .
We can use a few litres of special sambuca, purchased from Denice at the Cheese. However, we run the risk of a ****ing good hiding from RHC and the outboard motor thieves.
There came a coded message, the space-ship would be feuled in the air by another space ship. There came a very important message "Luis Suarez has to be kidnapped". "If Liverpool cannot have him neither Barcelona is going to" The message ended.
"For ****'s sake!!" screamed RHC. "We're trying to think, which arse pig keeps changing the channel. I can't think with all that sci-fi stuff on the TV, I need the cricket." Sisu noticed it was Dribbles who was trying to eat the remote control and inadvertently changing the channel to a programme that nobody wanted to watch. "Gimme that you mental defective. Our only hope of saving football as we know it lies in the hands of RHC coming up with a plan to stop Maureen and the Sexy Green alien with the three tits and rounded bottom." said Sisu as he snatched the remote out of Dribbles mouth and changed the channel back over to England failing at playing cricket. "Eureka!" announced RHC as another English Wicket fell. "I have it, I know what to do....
this has improved!!! worrying it's sort of 'allo allo which is kind of funny to think of rhc as the french barkeep
"It's f**king child's play," RHC gushed. "We know the gangrenous triple-breasted chick with the jelly arse has the dildo of Death, and my reporter mate has told us that ****-face Maureen is going to get it from the grassy slut," He explained. "However, we haven't a ****ing clue where they'll meet, so an ambush is out of the the f**king question. But, my journo source -- let's call him Deep Stoat! -- has also revealed Fergie is only f**king Maureen's love interest. They are not officially a couple -- arseholes! -- but they do make violent love together. Journalists know this f**king ****! So we tail the f**king claret-conked **** and intercept the Death Dildo when Maureen meets his arse-bandit para-f**king-mour! F**king simple as f**k, you tampon-sucking gimp-boys!" . . .
F**king simple as f**k, you tampon-sucking gimp-boys!" . . . [video=youtube;S8kPqAV_74M]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S8kPqAV_74M[/video] [video=youtube;tVRPz6-Tkww]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tVRPz6-Tkww[/video]
RHC would not accept insults from anyone any longer, as King Solomon he ordered all his enemies to be locked up until they repent.
The Policeman laughed in his face "and under whose authority shall I lock up all these odd people you hang around with? In fact, just bear with me a second please". The Policeman dialed a number on the reception phone "Hi Kev, it's Steve. We have a right nutter here, referring to himself as King Solomon. He has just spent the last half hour recounting a 13 page story of some incoherent nonsensical mess. I think we may have to call the nut house. Send some backup down to reception".
Would you mind awfully moderating your vile and frankly insulting language, you filthy little ****pig of Beelzebub
