Desolation VI: The Covidian Wastes

[PlanktonSideburns]

Euphoria surely

[Chollis]

A sports day ends in tragedy after the fatal stabbing of unpopular school mascot Dogbert.

[Shoulders?-Stomach!]

Moving on from calling people you don't like membranes so fast that you start shortening it to mem even though culturally membrane hasn't caught on yet as an insult

[derek stitt]

Stray dog sex tourism in Manila.

[batwings]

A notated map of your many skin tags fails to woo your grief counsellor.

[Glebe]

Last night's revelry can merely be described as 'weary shenanigans'.

[Shoulders?-Stomach!]

Going into the office on the Saturday and Sunday to use the toilet because 'the facilities are frankly just better'.

[petril]

excited for tomorrow on social media because he's launching some new patter

[Cuellar]

Being moved to tears by a cretin's one man performance of Das Rheingold

[Glebe]

Your IBS has gotten so bad your intestines are now wrapping themselves around your glansack.

[touchingcloth]

Being moved to tears by a cretin's one man performance of Das Rheingold

Have you heard Georg Solti's recordings of the cretin? Mind blowing.

[Chollis]

A semi-professional footballer dies from severe head injuries after trying to run through brick walls for the manager

[derek stitt]

Going into the office on the Saturday and Sunday to use the toilet because 'the facilities are frankly just better'.

When I lived in a student house this scenario was a real thing.

[touchingcloth]

Belted up the arse by Dog the Bounty Hunter while he repeats all of his catchphrases in order: "Hunter? Hardly knew her," "the Bounty Bars are on me," "woof".

[Glebe]

You sit at home, all glum!

[pancreas]

A fan club devoted to wanking over madhair's comics calls itself 'The Merry Men'.

[touchingcloth]

You and your friends recreate The Contest from Seinfeld except with shitting.

[Glebe]

You become so bored that you actually start to physically devolve into grains of pittance.

[touchingcloth]

Your hipster wank band uses Talkboys for microphones. 

[touchingcloth]

A fan club devoted to wanking over madhair's comics calls itself 'The Merry Men'.

The fan club comprises madhair alone and Merry Men is what he calls his two testicles and when he wanks to completion over his latest release he does a little wink and says "just spaffed out another one, eh, readers?" to no one.

[Shoulders?-Stomach!]

Your hutch from where you hawk copies of the Yorkshire Evening Post to shuffling wretches of the high street tips over from being minority bird shit in composition to majority.

[the midnight watch baboon]

Your tapeworm checks out of your anus and chooses Putney instead.

[dex]

Your hipster wank band uses Talkboys for microphones.

You and your friends recreate The Contest from Seinfeld except with shitting.

Slap bassing sounds on the pan as it cracks, sending pungent effluent into your dingy bedsit. The groan of the rusty water coursing around is captured by the Talkboy which is deemed the only listenable part of your latest EP.

[dex]

Happy Slapped by Grayson Perry in full regalia.

[Menyatta Zondatta]

Your obituary in the local paper refers to you as 'a wanker of seismic proportions'.

[touchingcloth]

Slap bassing sounds on the pan as it cracks, sending pungent effluent into your dingy bedsit. The groan of the rusty water coursing around is captured by the Talkboy which is deemed the only listenable part of your latest EP.

Say did you ever notice how shitting sounds when it's slowed down on a Talkboy? What's the deal with that?

[Ferris]

An ill-fated expedition sees you left for dead in the Sahara by the original lineup of Carter the Unstoppable Sex Machine.

[batwings]

Your mail order bride is stuck on a container ship off Felixstowe.

Your ma's anus appears on google maps as a local point of interest (busier than usual).

A Brian Conley obsessive with a fucked liver goes on a Bradley Walsh tangent for a bit before regaining focus in the final stretch.

[Huxleys Babkins]

Your ejaculate somehow spells out "GUEST STARRING ANNE REID" across your tummy after every wank for three years.

[Glebe]

A bout of despair is lifted by the punching of your glandpods.