I would love to set this amongst sweeping, storm-tossed moors and a sky that tears the heart. A hero beating at his tormented, lovelorn chest, an Edwardian floozy with archaic sex weapons aghast, but true to said hero. Fuck that, fuck this and fuck you.

I write for this site and its creator “Ulaf the Unreasonable”. I derive pleasure from nothing, am quick to anger and if you let me in your house, I will fuck your stroke-maligned mother, eat your gravy and die on your porch. That’s right.
I am a fucking blasphemy on legs

I will however, impart some knowledge toward you cunts. Gather around the campfire shitheels. Dance the crushed-up Librium dance, before Lucifer himself shows up to hold court in my stinking summer.

Many years ago I was a very sexual man.
Someone who will remain nameless kicked me in the privates. I did not go to the doctor because I felt that it was “a wee bit gay”. Two weeks later I had a testicle much bigger than my penis…and black. Bathory Black!

I slipped into a coma because my whole system had been poisoned. My mother felt sure she would lose her only literate son and my life hung in the cock sucking balance.

For a time I was gone, then they hit me with “the upper” and I screeched to awakening. A doctor told me I had a terrible infection (no shit) and I might lose a ball. People out there! I was 16!! I remember that fucker saying that maybe “you may lose both”.

All I wanted to do at that age was to fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck. But I looked at the dirty, sad words written on the wall and believed my number was up.
To this day I remember that night.
Full of morphine and the nurses walking their giant path next the bed.
The lurching room and vomiting over the sheet.
I reached under the covers and found that I had, not one, but two, and the Gods had always held my sleeping bag