DESOLATION_V.swf

[poo]

enchanted pastie

[cptspalding]

I suppose it is a bit like the war Gran, except, well except the part where you live through it.

[petril]

you escape the house fire, but it destroys everything, except for your most prized possession:

[Shoulders?-Stomach!]

Hahaha

[batwings]

you escape the house fire, but it destroys everything, except for your most prized possession:

One for Up The Arse Corner there. Or the final shot of the ITV remake of the Shining.

[Shoulders?-Stomach!]

A freshly cancered Tarrant arranges a round of Who Wants To Be In Palliative Care from the Camelot that is his carehome common room.

[Shoulders?-Stomach!]

Wigan Sex Dwarf

[Ferris]

Walsall's indie/alternative scene.

[Ferris]

Waking from a coma and remembering you were in Razorlight.

[Shoulders?-Stomach!]

Johnny Borrell adjusts his colostomy bag in front of '6 fit birds' while screaming at his assistant for '8 x multipack Bounty'

[poo]

Sepsis caused by a TV remote up yer tract means there's no ITU bed for a covidised Falklands vet.

[Shoulders?-Stomach!]

Stuart Hall jokes to his cell mate that he's not paedo-feeling these new mattresses at all.

'Paedo-feelin', Hahahaha, get it!? '

[Chicory]

After somehow fucking up an omelette on national television, a Masterchef failure kicks his only child's head clean off on being presented with a consolatory trophy made from egg boxes.

[petril]

A CBBC presenter interrupts a live skit to say "I've just been handed a piece of paper that, if it's right, will be the most dramatic story out of this series of Crackerjack or perhaps any other."

[Cerys]

Jonny entertains his kids by faking a coughing fit as they pass a gaggle of pensioners.  He subsequently lives to hear the thin whisper of a sharpened knitting needle sliding from its sheath - and not much longer.

[ollyboro]

73 days after stockpiling toilet paper by taking out several pay day loans against his Universal Credit payments, Geoff still can't pass a stool.

[BlodwynPig]

Walsall's indie/alternative scene.

Weren't you part of that?

[Cerys]

The virus can wait, thinks Doreen.  The new washing machine is arriving on Friday, and Geoff's Y-fronts won't launder themselves.

[ollyboro]

Geoff's magnificently assembled bog roll castle is sacked by a horde of desperate shitters.

[Shoulders?-Stomach!]

Josie thinks vegan is a cosmetic surgery you can get.

LifeEnchance MediSciences UK take the £5,559 + VAT and don't tell her any different. Good luck with just the 3 face arses there love.

[Gregory Torso]

Back at work in post office. Hands nailed through to the counter, playing phlegm tennis with elderly wildebeest panic people, each of them filling their purses with postage stamps.

What happened to self isolation? Where did it go?

NEVER MIND THAT, STAMPS ARE GOING UP BY 7p IN TWO WEEKS

Two weeks away from protein shake built pension-age ex squaddies burning fumitory and sage in the rubble of the council offices to drive off the devil's blight.

Two weeks away from packs of feral horny designer dogs gone wild rampaging through gutted micropubs and sourdough bakeries choked with kudzu.

Two weeks away from the rising of the crimson star that burneth on a bedde of smouldering ashe, as a street parliament of cowled ketchup and mustard-nourished teenagers share tiktok videos of sacrificial gore and radical vandalism.

Two weeks before someone installs a public address system in the church carpark that plays Boyz II Men's "End Of The Road" on a loop forever, and you have to make a midnight arsewipe dash in riot gear you made from an old barbecue set and a cot

as you break into B&M Bargains you pass an old man muttering, "blanket, shroud, blanket, shroud" and you remember just a month ago he cut your hair and chatted about the footie, and you liked his wife

BUT STAMPS I MUST PURCHASE BEFORE THE BROWN LIGHT OF THE GREAT LORD OF FLUSHING MUD, THE PESTILENCE, THE 7 PENCE, THE SAVINGS, PAY YOUR BILLS AND MAKE FRIENDS ONLINE, NEVER THE VIRUS SWEPT FROM THE BURNING EYRIE OF THE LORD'S VULTURE, OPEN YOUR EYES AND FEEL MY SPIT SIZZLE ON YOUR IRIS

[Cerys]

I love you, Gregory.  I hope you know that.

[Gregory Torso]

And I love you too, but please stay out of the post office for god's sake its a whirlwind of germs and fleas

[Cerys]

Aber post office lurks at the back of WH Smith.  What if I have a sudden need for a sparkly pencil case?  What then?

[Shoulders?-Stomach!]

Brevity, a necrotic caravan park in Kansas, makes a go at being the soul of wit. It gives up after an hour after no-one manages to rhyme Libtard with anything else.

[pancreas]

as you break into B&M Bargains you pass an old man muttering, "blanket, shroud, blanket, shroud" and you remember just a month ago he cut your hair and chatted about the footie, and you liked his wife

#puffedsiadin

[Nice Relaxing Poo]

A man self isolates by making no changes whatsoever to his social habits.

[chveik]

A man self isolates by making no changes whatsoever to his social habits.

that's me :(

[the midnight watch baboon]

An corona-ignorant, corona-positive rickety farmer has a hackety hack sneezing fit into his crop duster's discharge tank before taking off on his ziggety-zag route over his Central London pig and cum farm.

[Shoulders?-Stomach!]

A man scores a goal during a table football game

'Eh-heh, eh-heh! Alll-riiight', in his best Quagmire voice.