Mark Ella (57)
Jiao up the ying yang, happens all the time.
OH CRAP! didnt think of that. although it was only ever intended as an unloading dock for freeze-dried palettes of stupid since this site has now been reduced to a pixellated bums cat flap which nothing f**king fits in any more. Will jettison once Agger's lawyers chopper rotors smash my Pitcairns hut to smithereens again.I think we have a copyright infringement.
OH CRAP! didnt think of that. although it was only ever intended as an unloading dock for freeze-dried palettes of stupid since this site has now been reduced to a pixellated bums cat flap which nothing f**king fits in any more. Will jettison once Agger's lawyers chopper rotors smash my Pitcairns hut to smithereens again.
lets face it. This message board, like all the others, has ONE function; fostering communication. Yet with its recent travails, now capped off with "tapatalk" being removed, it seems to be going the other way, that being blunderbussing communication in the general direction of its face, ballsack, neck, shins & groinmeat.
Gordon Gunston's Guide To A Happy Marriage.
My name is Gordon Gunston.
My Guide To A Happy Marriage.
First things first.
You are going to need to kill your fucking wife.
There is no such thing as a happy marriage. That's a rookie error, my friend. Stupid newbies persist with that bullshit, hoping that things will get better over time. They never do. Cut your losses and cut that bitch until death does she part.
For a Wife Killing starters kit you could pop into my nephew Gene's new shop in Wollongong.
The boy has all the shit you need.
It's also open at night:
PRO TIP: Slip Gene a few extra bucks and ask if you can see “The Rig” out the back.
“The Rig” is actually Gene-o’s homemade wife-killing machine.
He calls it the “Daewoo Decapitator2000”;
The controls are a bit iffy and sometimes it takes quite a while for the subject to actually die but still, what do you care, it's not you who's facing certain death here.
"Fucking stupid "massage" setting, who built this shit?"
Or, if you're particularly flush with cash, you could call in the Gunston Surgical team.
For a VERY low price they will schedule the wife for some "routine" surgery then just simply whack a big hole in the barking-mad slag and let all her blood fall out. Then she dies. Seven degrees of separation, mine's a bacon sammie.
"Wayne, do you know how to play ANYTHING besides the theme from the fucken Exorcist?"
Down the hospital laundry shute the dead wife's corpse goes where, by cloak of darkness, my nephew Trevor and his custom-appointed white ute will be waiting to whisk her cadaver away to be unceremoniously biffed into the Phil Kearns Geyser of Eternal Tears.
The corrosively caustic properties of Phil's tears will ENSURE total cadaver dissolvement within seconds.
As Phil's tears wend their way to the crocodiled creeks of Wollongong, as does the blood of life flow back to your brain, as does the blood of wife flow down, straight down, into hell.
Now you are free!
In the clear!
Free to fuck around with your stupid hobbies for the rest of your days without having to "WORK" at all that boring, stressful, time-consuming happy marriage bollocks.
"I call this piece "Ode To Phil Kearns Tears And The Baptism Of Death."
Now you can piss about on the internet at YOUR leisure.
"Momoka, I have some good news..."
You can now dick around to your hearts content down at the local arcade, having a laugh with your shithead friends, the same ones that the wife always hated.
"This fucking thing is accurate, right to the decimal place!
Fuck it, you could form a rock music band with your new surgeon pals!
"Let's play an Exorcist Theme medley."
This concludes my My Guide To A Happy Marriage.
"Til Death Does She Part."