DESOLATION_V.swf

[Shoulders?-Stomach!]

A cashier at a petrol station calls your car rubbish.

[Pingers]

A cashier at a petrol station calls your car rubbish.

The third person today

[poo]

John Torode phones Clive Mantle to "shoot the shit".

[Pingers]

After checking in for your regular proctology outpatients appointment, you hear the receptionist call through, "Mr Singh, the Anus of Doom is here to see you".

[Shoulders?-Stomach!]

A census of the mattress reveals populations of dust mites to be up by 300%, whilst residents in the 'wife' category remain on zero for the second consecutive year, down from a couting of 1 in the 2018 bedroom survey.

I laughed

[Chicory]

Sussex ghosts on a train shrug as they miss their stop to haunt Plumpton.

[Pingers]

Your dad claims to have opened a whelk stall but you suspect he just hasn't washed his cock for a few weeks.

[batwings]

Your best and only friend is a cat that died in the eighties.

As is now tradition, a Christmas card made out to your anus arrives from the boys of the special offenders wing of a Portuguese prison.

[ollyboro]

Prince Charles' birthday card to the Queen is returned with "Not Known At This Address - You Jug Eared Cunt" stamped just to the left of an obvious  arsewipe mark.

[the midnight watch baboon]

Izzie gets locked in syndrome watching Jeremy Kyle's lockdown comeback.

[Pingers]

Jenny's ambition to meet Zoe Ball is thwarted again. "How hard can it be?" she demands of an indifferent universe.

[Twit 2]

Your heiliger dankgesang is a dishrag mashed in a snout.

[petril]

Like Wolf38892 I was disturbed by the unanswered questions, so I stripped off and locked myself into my garage with the tower blueprints for 48 hours.

Conclusion? The 'story' checks out. Planes, fire etc caused structural failure and collapse.

BUT these plans are like Dana Barrett's apartment block. No one ever built like that. They were designed to collapse if a plane hit them. The only conclusion is that they knew about the attacks when they built the towers

I did a bit of digging into the engineering firm that designed them. The chief engineer, and ALL the senior directors are now DEAD

I couldn't contain myself and posted on twitter: "I think I got the slags that done it"

Two minutes later someone responded to the tweet: "Keep Digging 🐾" The name was just a black rectangle and the avatar was a picture of a wolf. I clicked on it but the tweet and profile had already been deleted.

That night I couldn't sleep. I was crawling around my bed when I heard a scrabbling noise. 'It's the dog wanting to get out,' I thought. Then I realised: I don't own a dog

I went to my front door and opened it. Next to a streak of piss there was a cassette tape on the ground. I ran through my garden into the street but couldn't see anyone. Then I realised: I live in a flat. As I went back inside I heard what sounded like a wolf howl from somewhere in the darkness.

I didn't have a cassette player so I uploaded the tape to a website that converts tapes to mp3s (this website no longer exists). When I listened I heard a man reading out a series of numbers. Every now and again I would hear the muffled sounds of what sounded like an older woman shouting 'what are you doing down there?'. I ignored this and noted down the numbers.

When I put the numbers into my computer I knew that I had to leave immediately. I flounced from facebook and twitter, smashed my computer to pieces, tore up my passport and fled into the night. Now I'm alone, naked on all fours in a field, hunting for the truth.

this, but the man reading out the numbers is Alan Dedicoat and he keeps adding on some statistics about each number's form

[touchingcloth]

You hand your dissertation in in the form of a Ted talk.

[Shoulders?-Stomach!]

There has been an inquest over the deaths of some cashiers. It is decided that you are guilty.

[ollyboro]

Whilst attending the opening of Blue Peter's 1984 time capsule, DJ Mike Read is forced to accept that the DNA staining the 12 inch remix on Frankie Goes To Hollywood's Relax is indeed his.

[ollyboro]

The singer in Newcastle- based tribute band Frankie Gans To Hollywood overhears the only member of the audience shout into his phone, "I wish this Welsh cunt would hurry up and play You Spin Me Round (Like A Record), my Spam goulash will be overheating."

[ollyboro]

Retired public toilet cleaner Stan Boghead's self-published Autobiography Staying Out The Sewer is met with - at best - universal indifference.

[dex]

You go for a piss in the woods whilst out walking. A large, wheezing nonce-a-like with a face full of beard and piss hole eyes lisps "Thank you, you've made my day watching that."

[Pingers]

You are voted "worst value prostitute in Goole" for a third consecutive year - and you only charge a tenner.

[Shoulders?-Stomach!]

You are voted "worst value prostitute in Goole" for a third consecutive year - and you only charge a tenner.

Nice, top Goole referencing.

[Shoulders?-Stomach!]

Great Goole guns.

[Pingers]

Great Goole guns.

That is wonderful.

I love the idea that someone could be in Doncaster and, driven into a terror by the horrors that abound in that place, flee to the northeast, flicking fearful glances over a shoulder, but then encounter a succession of even worse places - Armthorpe, Thorne - until their flight ends, along with all hope and decency - in Goole.

[derek stitt]

An old couple use their false teeth as castanets during a dancing competition at Pontins.

[Stoneage Dinosaurs]

Nick Knowles OnlyFans

[Pingers]

Great Goole guns.

I went back a couple of pages from this and found this old gem from Foggy Buntwhistle

Some wag at the festival spikes your drink with acid and ibogaine which sends you whirling into gnashing fractal mirrors of terror for 8 hours. When you finally emerge from what felt like a million lifetimes of exquisite tailored nightmare you realise you've gone bald

[touchingcloth]

Your lovemaking is compared to a Fiat Brava.

[the midnight watch baboon]

Dad brings home pine cones for lunch.

"Thanks, Dad!"

"Get the fucking gravy on . . . YES THE FUCKING MUD OF COURSE THE FUCKING MUD."

[dissolute ocelot]

David Dickinson is still alive.

[Pingers]

At the culmination of a difficult labour the anaesthetist screams and faints, the obstetrician flees, chanting the Lord's Prayer, and your midwife frantically tries to stuff it back in.