A Horse Story For You

He asserted his dominance over his fellow beast with a sheepskin jacket. The sheep lobby was furious, he understood. But Maurice didn’t care. Leather trousers were next on the agenda.

Bloody vegetarians!  What about plant rights?  Vegetables feel pain too, you know.  Fish don’t really mind if you eat them.  While Jesus the Christ said to fish on the other side of the boat,  Maurice thought that, in modernity, it was better not to fish at all, given dwindling cod stocks.

That night Maurice used an equine condom.  He didn’t want horse children with Emma.

She worried about her husband smelling oats on her.

He wanted to talk to her but couldn’t – he was a horse.

He needed cash, and fast.  He advertised his arse space, spreading the word throughout the reptile community.  Sure enough, a pregnant snake responded, looking for somewhere affordable to give birth.  A horse’s arse looked ideal – warm, dark, plenty of nutrition, easily accessible.

SOL – Smiles Out Loud

Thank God for Atheism!

Nude horse on all fours

Nelly lifted his tail up and inhaled deeply at the hole.  She was pleased.

His grandfather claimed to have killed Shergar and Red Rum.

At the end of the ordeal, she stuffed a blood soaked tampon up his arse, forcing it home with a 13” rubber dildo.

Daddy, teach me how to poo again

Was this the human thing they called… love?

He was fed up with this grass shit – he wanted steak and chips.

Aliens + Hitler under the surface of Mars.

Aliens under Mount Everest and at the centre of the Earth

He greased his hoof and entered her.

All horses get married in heaven, unless they don’t want to.

As he drifted off to sleep under the influence of ketamine, he wondered how big God’s penis was.  It would be large, for sure.  One million miles long, and one hundred thousand miles wide? No, too small.  A billion miles long and one metre wide? No, too thin.  A nanometre long and seven light years wide?  Short and stumpy, but surely the Godesses couldn’t complain about God’s girth.

The ‘ Glen Hoddle’ dirt – Forced out

The Kenwyn  Jones – Dark, Fast, and Strong

He put his headphones on, and listened to AC/DC. He mimed along to ‘What do you do for money, honey?’, not missing a word.  This was his favourite song on the whole album.  ‘Have a drink on me’ was God’s favourite, he believed.

‘How High?’ II – White kid smokes dope, becomes a telepath

“Honey?”   “What, honey?”

“OH, I’m upset – please leave.”

Tweet tweet, flap flap, preen preen

“What’s up, hon?”

“It’s mating season” said the bird.

Rustle of feathers, rustle of feathers. 

Plumage!  Plumage!

“…or I’ll pop a cap into your anus.”


“Where?  Oh, I see.”

Jonathan Foreigner

“Oh, Mr and Mrs Foreigner, why did you call your only son ‘Jonathan’?”

He shat messily into her bird bath and left.  Later he wondered if he should have shat into her fish pond, too.  A missed opportunity.

A horse had been mugged by another horse – a damning indictment of Blair’s Britain.

Her visits to the stables became less frequent, but/ and she yearned for the feel of a horse between her thighs. For the smell of a horse.

He was fed up with sugar cubes – tonight he wanted a hamburger, one with bacon and cheese.

He was fed up with hay – he wanted pizza tonight.

He stuffed an acorn up his arse.

That night, he and Emma looked at the stars together.  “Wouldn’t it be wonderful to see the birth of a new star, to see a new planet? To explore other worlds?” etc….she asked.  He said he wasn’t sure, as he couldn’t even be bothered to visit Scotland, or Ireland.  It took all his effort just to jump the odd fence and maintaining a relationship between himself and his master’s wife.

She stuffed doner kebab meat up his arse, and fed.  The onion stang a little, but he was grateful she chose to forego the chilli sauce.  He enjoyed her tonguing his anus.  When she kissed him, he could smell the animal on her breath.

Maurice didn’t want to be responsible for the break-up of their marriage.  But he’d had human now, and had grown somewhat accustomed to it.  Emma was a fine horse, but she could never please him the way Nelly did.  He took a sip of lager as he lay uncomfortably in her bath. ‘I wouldn’t put my penis into a horse’s mouth’, he thought.  It could be bitten clean off.  At the very least it could be chewed up.  Better to stick to human females.  Oh, Nelly.  Her husband worked in the city, leaving her with a lot of free time and the keys to their stables.  If they did break up, maybe the husband could have a relationship with Emma the horse. This, he felt, would assuage his guilt.  But this was ridiculous, a man and a horse.  She wasn’t his type at all.

Her husband was away on business, and that night they lay together as woman and horse.

He didn’t dance unless he was on Jack and Jills. When he did dance, he made it count.  ‘Crazy Hooves’ some called him, ‘Aggressive stirrups’.

His nostrils flared violently as his horsecock wept milk.

He felt a gas coming and pushed at it, but at the last moment decided against it and backed off.  He didn’t want a repeat of the time he tried to do the loudest dirty air he could, to impress Emma.  After a meat korai!  He had ended up with chocolate sauce all down his leg.  Emma was substantially less than impressed, he reckoned.  She, on  the other hand, didn’t seem to go to the toilet at all, like all the best, classiest mares.

“Let’s make a sausage.”

Betty’s rules – 2.3secs for double, 5secs for treble

-Sir! Sir! A drunken horse has turned up at the door! He’s demanding cheese and wine! What should I do?

-Don’t let him in.

-He got in! He drank all our wine, then ate all of out fine cheeses! Then he was sick, very sick.

I heard that an elderly Jamaican man wandered the plains and fields of Jamaica, smoking skunk and occasionally muttering the word ‘fled’ and laughing. Is this true?

How does a horse go on holiday? Ryanair, usually.

‘Lucky’ the three legged mouse raped a horse.  The horse had cried rape before, and the mouse walked free.  The mouse’s mother told the horse that the mouse would, in the afterlife, be repeatedly penetrated by a succession of woodwind instruments, by an ant.  That ant would, in turn, be outraged by an elephant. Rough justice, perhaps, but justice nonetheless, she told him.  

He looked at the horsebox and frowned.  Having a bad horsebox brought shame to a horse.

Horse on horse violence…

“Are you of God’s shoe, or are you of Satan’s shoe?”

“You’re a dark horse” he said to the dark horse.

“I know that”

He didn’t like dark horses, but wasn’t racist.  Ok, he was a bit racist.  Coming into our stables, taking our oats, stealing our women with their dark horsecocks…

‘You look gay’ he thought, and indeed the dark horse did. He was dressed up in ribbons and a saucy hat.

God had, finally, proven that he didn’t exist.  He laughed softly.  He was the only entity capable of fully disproving God’s existence.

She attacked him with the black vibrator that night.  At this rate, he thought, he would need equine anal rejuvenation, from a specialist, such was the ferocity of her motions.

He thought about leaving, reconsidered, and urinated loudly into her kettle.  Later he would offer her a cup of coffee.  Strong coffee, to mask the taste of the horse water.  Perhaps he should have urinated into the decanter of whisky instead.  He sniffed at it, and decided that it was Jack Daniels.  He imagined that Jack Daniels may be tired of the informality of his name, and now preferred to be called James.  James Daniels.

He put on the eponymous Deicide CD, their debut album.  “Give praise to Satan” roared Glen Benton, “You will give praise…” He blinked, once. “…to Satan!”  Was this a prediction?  An order?  And maybe he would, but not tonight.  He supposed that in an alternate reality Deicide were a Christian soft rock act, spreading God’s message.  He must have fallen asleep then, for he awoke with Deicide still playing.  As he came to, he realised he must be in hell, and being shouted at by the dark one himself. That night he had a dream about being chased by Satan.

Maurice was worried – he was spending fully two thirds of his money on ketamine.

Third and final heart attack.

“Please give head to my arse.”

I’m a horse, intelligent for a horse, with horses supposed to be intelligent in the first place.  He rated himself above his horse peer. But who decided that horses were intelligent?  It was the humans, who were stupid.  So it didn’t count.

The next morning he could see and smell her dirt on his sword.

His frequent erections were troubling him.

He paused to consider the language he had just invented, while waiting for the second motion of his dirt to commence.  He had, in his mind, already created one of the letters in its alphabet.  It looked like this:  

*insert picture*

He realised it would take all of five minutes for a man to fashion it, longer for a horse, perhaps far longer.  One sentence, at that rate, could take several hours.  Even a long word would require substantial effort.  He mentally shelved plans to create new languages whose characters began merely as mental doodles, for  the next phase of his dirt was imminent.

This erection he welcomed.  He spoke to it softly.  Nelly guided it into her face, then her arse, which spat yogurt.  As he began to climax, images flooded his mind – Sheila the horse, Pantomime Villain the horse, Shadowfax – Gandalf’s horse.  And, for some reason, Bronwyn from Neighbours.  He felt his erection subsiding.  Shadowfax – the fastest horse ever created. And what curves!

Like when he got drunk and tried to have sexual intercourse with a police horse.  He wondered now what the police horse represented.  Was his attempt to penetrate  him or her (he was drunk, he didn’t mind) his attempt to thwart authority?  Was it, in that case, something to do with his father?  He finished his dirt and wiped his arse with a nearby towel.  She would barely notice, he thought – the dirt was clean, dry,  and had come out quickly.  ‘Fast and Dry, Slow and Wet’ , the old adage came to mind.  Was that blood on the towel?  He flushed and opened the door.  He noticed belatedly that he had become aroused while thinking about the police horse.  He now covered his erection with the towel, in case he was seen.  Was it already too late?

Hey! That’s…. 

-Alliteration! /

– Racist! /

– Onomatopoeia!

-That rhymes!

A horse has done something unspeakable…..

-On your ironing board

-in your bird bath

-inside your apron

-in the kitchen sink

-on the mantelpiece

-all over the remote control

-in your hairdryer

-in your breakfast cereal

Foreskin etiquette…..

-Wash in sink b4 penetrative sex (uncouth men don’t)

-Use highly scented oils and rub in hemp hand cream

David Camera – All about image.

Against all the odds, he had an erection.  At a time like this!


-It’s dirt / gas

-Lets’s make a sausage

-Oh god… sag aloo / onion bhaji / quishe

-Fast / slow

-Wet / Dry


-Soft / Hard




-Dirty / Clean


Chi…and that night he went to bed with an erection that would not subside.  He longed for opposable thumbs and a wrist.

“Please make love to my face with your arse.”

A wife and two beautiful girlfriends


(to school) “make me go,go,go,GO” (had been listening 2 Loose)

Child won a spelling bee!

Child has fake ID, aged 7

Child wants a pony

Child takes a hip flask full of red wine to school, gets thrown out

Death = memories released

“Ah…. So familiar” (ketamine scene)

The horse noisily stuffed a hoof into her arse.  She climaxed again.

“Make me”

“I’ll make you, in bed”

Bloody tampon in pint in pub.  HIV infected.

The horse drew deeply on his cigarette.  He was spent.

“Of course I bloody love you”

Emma the horse uses your face as a masturbation aid

It was the ultimate shame, being held down by four white girls and raped by a fifth, who gave him AIDS. It was all because they felt he was being gay to them.

What was his worst fear?  Being raped by a horse, a horse with AIDS

Bobby Wets Hits (Bobby wet shits)

She stuffed some oats up her arse, and sprinkled sugar on the outside of her anus, to please him.  

She thinks the horse is gay – that’s why she penetrates him

Horse: Maurice.  You don’t find out he’s a horse until later?

Impersonating, or being impersonated by, a horse / Dressed as a horse

Nelly plunged her favourite dildo deep inside the horse’s arse.  The horse came immediately, rivers of milk.  The creamy water sprayed against Nelly’s wall.  She reintroduced the phallus to the horse, feeding it slowly into him.  The horse instantly had another anal orgasm, and stomped as he came, his arse wet with milk.  Nelly, satisfied, returned to writing a song about Jesus’s foreskin.

Equine herpes

She took the horse’s length in her mouth.  He was quite small for a horse, but large for a man.

Where would the horse take her this time?  Mouth n’ ass, she supposed.

Rough Justice

She kissed the horse hard in the mouth

The horse noticed a flowing of blood away from his head.  Evaluating his crotch, his worst fears were confirmed  – he had an erection.

Is there a prouder beast?  Can a horse ever truly be tamed?

The horse withdrew from her mouth

“Why do you love me?”

“Because you’re beautiful and special, like the moon”






Sausage of desire


In the midst of their conversation, the horse noticed what he believed to be the beginnings of an erection.  He knew he was aroused – he could feel it

Her arse was soaking wet in anticipation of the horse’s member.

Handle of a wooden spoon (+ an enormous one)

Maurice released some dirty air before he expelled chocolate sauce.  He aimed for a rival horse’s water trough.  His aim was true.

No sex after marriage, rather than no sex before marriage

She sighed, and masturbated the horse into a trophy/shield/cup-a-soup/ oyster

It was like the thousand year reich, but with love instead of Nazis.

…burst into tears of joy

…has fallen in love with you

She wept tears of joy, of relief.

She laughed angrily and returned to composing a song about a butterfly

The horse resigned himself to another erection, and stifled his grimace with a hoof

A horse – in a dressing gown – drinking orange juice from the carton.  This was his worst habit, besides bestiality

He had suffered and erection

He pulsed into her





Pantomime Villain

He only started to worry when she suggested they introduced a sheepskin noseband into the bedroom, alongside the stirrups


In the morning

I awaken

You will be given

One last chance

To cook

The horse disrobed in front of her.  His erection was obvious.

The horse is aroused, and angered, by watching C4 racing, and, more worryingly, by Crufts

While he felt that his erection was unnecessary, he enjoyed the juxtaposition of it, set against the cold reality of that morning

In the thrall of a drug addiction

“It’s not an ass, it’s an ass-et”

He came velvet into her mouth

He messily wiped the dirt off his foreskin into her sink

That night her tits wept milk for him

The horse, once proud and noble, now discovered that he had an erection, in a barbershop

Oh. The shame!  It was barely lunchtime and he already had an erection.  In the newsagents of all places.

He felt a superior lyricist somewhere in the jungle, a larger cat

Nelly’s newspaper – doesn’t wanna be read

It was now certain – he had an erection.  “Not now” he thought, but it was too late – he was proudly erect

The horse submitted to the inevitable erection and backed into a bush to cover his shame.  This was absolutely the worst time he could achieve an erection.

Metaphor, for death

“Gimme the lute” – Biggie robbing a medieval ochestra

Rough justice – the condom was covered in acid and broken glass.  The condom is, of course, acid resistant and glass proof

He let fly.  God!  It sounded like an explosion in a trumpet factory/convention/museum/exhibition/reunion


Meanwhile, somewhere in heaven, a horse was silently weeping with laughter.

“Oi!  Horseface!”

Daniel Druff

Invented or discovered time

Where is God’s love? God’s love is all around

Rivers of blood

“We’ve been defrauding you mercilessly for quite some time now”

“You smell of oats, and dandruff”

His Grandfather has worked on the Apollo program, albeit fraudulently

He approached her anus like a hungry horse approached a bucket of oats.

Of course!  A horses head… on a humans body!


-I don’t feel like prancing

-She’s only happy when she’s prancing

Dirt in and around the anus

WINSTON CHURCHILL JOKE (drink b4 breakfaxt)

Coke- not to be sniffed at

“Your face, my arse… now”

“You were’nt saying that with your tongue in my arse”

The horse noticed a tightening at his crotch.  It was true – he had sustained an erection.  Christ!  He had an erection!

Maurice eased into his smoking jacket and lit a small cigar.  Was bestiality so wrong if you were a horse – a beast?


I sprayed my mace anyway/

Quite unnecessarily/

He rolled around in agony/

But he deserved it/#

He had defrauded a swan

She could reward his diligence in bed by sniffing him

What was his worst habit?  Bestiality

She was dirty, wrong, and troublesome.

Can a horse ever be truly tame?

Ants – Fierce, proud, loyal, aggressive, 

“Milk me”

Powerful erection

Metallica’s Chinese tour  – ‘Trapped under rice’


Hey! Hey”

You! You!

I don’t like your foreskin

-This predated Lavigne

-Maybe she was Engival – the evil Lavigne, stealing her lyrics

Hers was more effective

God was an atheist as a child… his Dad put it down to lack of self belief

Canibus had extendable knees, and now represents six feet.  He, like Hendrix, had a penis extension, the first thing they got done when they were famous.  Naturally they were both tiny, like a child

“Our horses require lager, strong European lager. Preferably Stella.  One has ordered a takeaway, while two want to go to a club. One horse has been sick already”

“It’s longer than the file the FBI have on Canibus”

“You see, horse, I’ve become somewhat accustomed to you.  It’s like Annie Oakley, with more penetration”


From the looks of Hansen’s tan, he had been away for a couple of weeks.  He would need a couple of MOTDs to get back his match sharpness. Perhaps we would see a rusty pun or two to start with.   With the squad rotation of Hansen, Lawrenson and Shearer, could  all pundits be kept happy?

God wore moccasins usually, but flip-flops on Sundays, for church.

All you’re base were belong to we

That night he approached her with his penis as an artist approached his canvas, with long, generous strokes.  Her bed was his easel, her body his canvas, his cock his brush.


Leaked porridge

Spat cream

Ejected cough syrup

Voided itself

Came moss/vanilla/gravy/wet cement

Wizard joke – couldn’t get the staff

Nice guns – aim 2 please

Nelly’s tits

Nas – Pearl handled guns / pearl necklaces

50 Cent – get out the club (golf joke)

From the moment she saw him she knew she would have him.

His stirrups glistened in the sun

He was uncertain about the introduction of condiments into their foreplay

He cleaned his part with her toothbrush, wondering if the toothpaste would sting.

“There’s two types of people, I think. People that are cool, and people that think they’re cool.  I think I’m the first kind.”

It seemed silly to be ruled by a powder, stupid crystalline granules

Her arse smelled of apricot today.

He came into her nostrils while she was asleep.   The next morning she would blow her nose and look surprised.  She gazed enquiringly into the handkerchief, while he blushed.



Religion? All – he considered himself to be open minded.  Well, all major ones anyway, some minor.

Gender?   Yes, I see… he had a growth between his legs, this was called a…penis?  This would suggest that he was male.  Oh yes, and tits suggested femininity.  He ticked ‘male’ where there was supposed to be a cross.

Age?   His first thought was that he was several thousand years old.  This couldn’t be right.  He believed that he had existed in previous lives, so should he just add on their ages to the total?

Worst fear?  Being raped by a horse, a horse with AIDS


He was a social outlaw now.

She still carried a torch for him.  Hell, she still carried a gun for him.

“I’m sorry, I am unable to read your body language, being an autist.  We will find it difficult to engage in small talk.  Have you noticed that I am avoiding your eyes?   I feel I could have trouble relating to you.  What kind of animal are you in bed?  I’m a bustard, I think.  A large, flightless bird.”

In a dream, or something

In a vision, or something

Not freelance journalism as much as freestyle journalism – any topic, any time.

He’d see if he couldn’t force some dirt out.  Perhaps not force, he didn’t want to make it come out if it didn’t want too.  He would allow his sphincter to suggest it came out.

Still got love 4 it

At the sound of her voice the horse began to purr.

He had found God in an open sandwich.  Sort of a baguette.   Loose meat was inside, also onion.

Seeing Mr. Men on Television irritated him.  He had written to the producers a few years back,  suggesting new characters- new, more exciting Mr. Men.  Mr Complete Bastard was his favourite.  Mr Tourette’s was another.  And Mr….

He had heard that the second most recent Grand National winner had celebrated with a trough full of champagne and a sizeable line of ketamine.


Most Flatulent

Stupidest Bark

Least Well Groomed (dirty)

Strongest Bladder (messy and time consuming)


Wall of Flame

Points awarded for best fall

He knew that heroin would suit him, and that he would be addicted forever.

At his death he would burn in the fire of one hundred thousand and two trillion suns.

“Some people, they don’t wanna cheer, and they don’t wanna boo”

She invented the 27 fret guitar, which was closely followed by the 29 fret guitar.   She rushed online to patent her inventions.  Shit!  Someone had already invented the 30 fret guitar.  One higher… one longer.  No matter, she would simply invent the 31 fret guitar, no, the 32.  With eight strings.  Shit!  He’d invented that already, too!

He paused, thinking about leaving, then went back inside and masturbated into the bathroom sink.

Worse strikers than Thatcher

He wasn’t addicted, he just needed it all the time.  More each day.

-You may ask God one question

-God, what is gay?

-Gay means straight

-So what is straight?

-One question only, I’m afraid

-Perhaps straight means gay, then

She lightly soaped his horse balls and gently cleaned the inderneath of his foreskin.   She seasoned the foreskin.

What did the toilet say?  “I’m flushed”

What did the bottle of wine say?  “I’m drunk”

…Explodes in love

…Explodes in love again

…Once again explodes in love

…Once more explodes in love


He passed gas, and doubled back to inhale it.

“That’s my goal” (football / song)

He didn’t care much for the introduction of wooden spoons into their sex games, or mustard for that matter.

Anal herpes

He wanted to see him sodomised by disgruntled fire ants

He was upset – someone had put bacon in his coffee


He went to the Tate Modern, and saw an ass he liked. ‘Now that is art” he thought

Nelly in tate “I see art everywhere”

“THAT IT ALL” – common greeting in heaven

A picture painted a thousand words, but a good riff painted at least a couple of hundred.

“Yes, I am similar to the traditional Spaniard, quick with the wit, and quicker with the blade.”

Freedom of Thought

He stuffed his tobacco into her tobacco pouch

Over the next week she explored the boundary that existed between friendship and love, albeit with a horse.

She accused him that night of lacking passion

“If it would please you”

“Goddamn it lady, that’s my foreskin”


We destroy your universe very easily

We destroy your sun with some ease

We destroy your silly world, we don’t know why

We use quantum weapons against you

We cut your planet in half with a powerful laser beam

We create 1000 ft tidal wave, with little difficulty

We steal your moon – this presents us with no real problems


Your sun

Your breakfast cereal

The middle of a café you favour

Your daily newspaper, in the sports section

Pall Mall


-We accidently break some of your old, chipped china and immediatrely replace it with newer, better china from an established manufacturer of porcelain, after apologising profusely.  You may take this as an act of war.

-We stumble into your low quality TV, breaking some of the tubes.  For this we apologise, before offering to buy you a large laser TV.  This is, again, an act of war.

-We scratch your least favourite album, not on purpose, before asking you for your ten most wanted albums on general release.   We buy these for you on a format of your choice, after apologising.  We agree that this could be seen as threatening behaviour.

The horse began to purr at the sound of her voice.

This time to punish him she would pour whisky into his bottom.

“You are forgiveable”

Clear / Clear

Clear / Clean

Not Clean / Not clear

“I know – I checked”

“I know – I worked it out”

Please sniff me as a reward

He didn’t want to be naked.  He wanted equine clothing, horse underwear.

He disappeared up her arse for the second time that evening

Horse is a classically trained pianist

“Please kiss me as you once did”

“that horse has flown”

Jack of all tradesman’s entrances

She all but raped his mouth, with the handle of a wooden spoon


Gun cabinet

Trophy room

Love warren (for his love rabbit)

Garden Shed

Horse box

Bird’s nest – for his hungry crow

“Nigga you couldn’t describe a circle”

-Justin Timberlake changes his underwear up to five times a day…

-I know that.  I empathise, having bladder control issues myself

-Are you lonely, star?

-I am the loneliest star in the galaxy, one of the loneliest in the universe

-I shall be your friend, star.

A star explodes in love









Foreskin dandruff

Dirty mind, dirty foreskin

After childbirth her breasts were a sore point, literally

Heavy, full crotch

His sweaty horse balls heaved

He had a significantly larger than average penis, and felt he didn’t have to do anything special to her

She snacked upon his arse, before feasting on his horsecock.

He was a horse of limited circumstance

“I smell p****”

Why advertise the fact that you smell pissy?

To celebrate the arrival of a new wrap, he sniffed an abnormally large line.  Later he would sniff a similarly sized line to commemorate the gram

She was an ex-alcoholic which fortunately meant that she could still drink.  She wasn’t going to be a born again alcoholic

He doubled back to smell his gas, but it didn’t give up its secret easily

He greased his lamppost with bacon fat and entered her rather roughly, without a whisper of foreplay

She hoped the cubes of apple would attract him to her anus, as birds are attracted to a birdtable containing breadcrumbs. “You stereotype a horse” he thought as he grazed on it


“Jesus don’t want to clean his foreskin”

This wasn’t blasphemous – nothing in the bible suggested that Jesus’s foreskin was clean.  OY yeah, he didn’t have a foreskin.  Was he Jewish or something?  She thought he had been born in Saudi Arabia

This turned in to ‘Dirty foreskin blues’

-Well I woke up this morning

-I had dirt under my foreskin baby

-I think I’ll have to clean it

-With my wife’s toothbrush and soap


What did Tim Wheeler say to his car insurer after an accident?

“Oh yeah, she was overtaking me…”

Betrayed for gold

Her vagina, to him, smelled as fragrant as fresh cut grass

‘Can you see me?” – Jimi’s poker song

Muffled whimper, then a yelp of pure joy

“At least it got a reaction”

“It did- now everyone thinks you’re a c***”

He hadn’e slept with anyone in ages, and was lacking match fitness

Her tits went south after childbirth – they flew to Argentina for the winter.  They were now screaming for worms.   Later they actually became firmer, standing up for themselves, and demanding worms promptly

He was what he called ‘exceptionally’ gay – he was pretty much str8 but would make an exception for a famous gay man.  He would do Michael Stipe for instance, or Freddie Mercury (before his death), partly to punish them for being gay.  Or Jake Shears.  Maybe even Stephen Fry…

If her paintings were her children, this one was a result of a quickie.  She felt dirty after completing a picture, as if she had been furtively masturbating

She wanted people of high class to stare at her work, nodding appreciatively.  A man would stroke his beard, his wife commenting kindly on the works’ rhythm

A friend had told her that her pictures were great when you were high.  She enjoyed this, and welcomed being the MF Doom of the art world.  That metal fingered bastard.

His erection chafed against his new horse underwear which had  been bought for him as a gift from his master’s wife.







She disliked the foreskin as a symbol of male domionance over women through the ages.

Are there any black men in positions of authority here?

He noticed a string of cheese coming out of her arse.

God had struggled at mathematics at school, but excelled at English.  This disappointed God’s dad, who was a fine statistician.

She fed his hoof into her arse and then took it out, as clean as a whistle.

Emma was moulting, unusual for a horse.

He was upset and excited.  He had a lump in his trousers and jis throat simultaneously.

It was a bright Spring day in Autumn

“We use horses for food and for fuel”

JAmaisan raped by a broom handlr e at first?

MR MEN – Mr Europhile, the most politically aware mr man

What did the candle say? Get off my wick

What did the dog say? Get off my stick

Dog – woof. Woof.  Woof! WOOF!

Man – whats that, boy?

Dog – Master! My tail has become stuck up my own arse! What should I do, master, what should I do?

Man – Don’t worry, boy, I’ll yank it out

(muffled yelp of joy)

Dog – I love you, master

That was an expensive gas, as he had followed through

That night she broke the promise she had made to her father of his death bed never to take a horses cock in her arse.  She wrote the first chapter in her anal memoirs.

To chastise himself he would put the handle of a wooden spoon inside his urethra

So she couldn’t draw actual things.   Did anyone want to make something out of it?  She couldn’t do that either.

He did a difficult, stubborn brown

She bowed to her dolphin master

Jesus turned water into wine, but did he also do non-alcoholic drinks?   A fruit based drink for the lady?   Did his gifts go so far as to provide spitits?  Perhaps he could bestow spirits upon others as he was blessed in spirit himself.   “Oh. Sorry, Jesus, lager please, and a baileys for the wife.  No ice.  Three pounds thirty for the lager? Christ!  Any chance of a bowl of water for the dog?  Bar snacks?”

Nihilism meant nothing to him / her

Iain MC Banks

MC Iain Banks

MC Ken Loud

LEnneth MC loud

-I haven’t had relations in two years

-that’s nothing, I didn’t for 14


-ages 1-14

-That ciggy will take 5 minutes off your life

-7, actually, including the time it takes to smoke it

Ingual the horse is hungry – he’s had no hay again

HE was Liverpool thru and thru –if he was cut, he’d bleed red

He unfurled his trouser truncheon

Ohm – ni –bus

He had diced with death, literally.  They both rolled a four and, in the event of a tie, death had to let him go.

Faiths? All, including atheist

She was in a bad mood, and wrote and unduly harsh riff

She was trying to give up smoking using a system of rewards.  Her reward for not smoking would usually be a cigarette

He’d kill that horse in cold blood – he’d drown him in it

“Honey?  You’re coagulating again!”

She did it… for a reason

Well – established alcoholic

She would feed her child by allowing it to suck milk from her arse, thus saving her tits.

Spoons – business end as usual

Beethoven starts with a ‘C’

What does dr dre keep his records in ? Chronological order

What do schizophrenics and drunks have in common? 

An excess of spirits

He had been robbed of honour, of chastity, and of innocence and virtue.

He thought it was generous that they still found the time to cheer a poor opposition pass sarcastically despite being two goals down

His foreskin erupted in silk


I sprayed my mace anyway

Quite unnecessarily

He rolled around in pain

But that was OK

He had defrauded a swan

-Any advice?

-Never say ‘yes please ‘ to an alien horse or an alien fox.  Don’t drink poison.  Fear danger

“And what if I said I was falling in love with you, horse… all over again?”

-An outrageous embellishment

He had the horse flogged senseless

Custodian of hell

Yes, perhaps she had committed a slight breach of social etiquette by having a physical relationship with a horse

It wasn’t rape at first

So nelly hatched nevis the egg, which shot out of nelly’s arse when the time was right.   Nelly sat on the egg for 3 months, then Nevis pecked her way out.  Nevis the chicken was born! She was given a worm soon after

He had been usurped… by a horse

Time?  It’s all relative

-When I broke off in out frame of love snooker, I didn’t find baulk

-Our relationship is like an entertaining exchange of safety play which the knowledgeable crowd of the Crucible appreciate

-I didn’t find touch with my kick in our rugby game of love

-I’ve run out of position during a sizeable break of our love.  For the next shot of our love I don’t have my hand on the green baize

-I’ve taken the opportunity to go into your pack of love  but I haven’t been left on a red.

-Would you go down on a zebra for Jesus?

– I don’t know.  I guess Bono would.

-You may ask God one question

-God, what is art?

-Your face, my arse

She cut her hand accidently.  No problem – she would imbue the canvas with blood.  It was like the time she sank a double vodka and had the presence of mind to open her sketch pad before being sick

-I love you not

-I love you not, not

She had experimented with drugs while writing, and found that she would write with an identical style to writing sober.  But she would feel much better while she did it.

Even if she wasn’t concerned with him not resprecting her afterwards, he was certainly worried about it – she wouldn’t respect him in the morning due to his legendary lack of stamina.

-Why did John Lennon become a priest?


-He didn’t like possessions

He suspected he was engorged, and that it was ast least a semi.

God! It was wet-  dirt was smeared in and around his anus

His stomach had more in common with 8 packs of the Nelson than with a 6 pack

God was an atheist as a child.   This was due to lack of self confidence, his father, God’s dad, thought.   Jesus, his son, feared crosses, and wouldn’t go near a hot crossed bun.

Why do Chelsea fans turn up at the last minute for matches?   Because their dads need to take them to the toilet

Why wasn’t the Chelsea match shown in the pub?  Chelsea fans aren’t allowed to drink yet

My guns are so nice they aim to please

She encouraged his foreskin to play with her tits.  They were small and mean.


Jesu, Jesu

Please wash your foreskin

With my cloth

In my sink

I’ll wash your feet

With a different one

A full quarter of an hour’s applause will be due to Englands World cup winning team, including subs.  What if a footballer wasn’t good enough to merit a full minute’s applause?  Would a few seconds do?   What about a really bad player?  Should he be roundly booed at his ddeath?

Jesus was sporting a mean, thin, bad-boy moustache on his upper lip

Me predict a shoebox, sha la la la, me predict a shoebox

Sha-la-la I love you Daddy!

He was pregnant with food, and would soon give birth.   The contractions had started, and he could feel the head poking out already.  He decided it was a female dirt.  ‘Congratulations’’, the doctors would say, ‘it’s a dirt’

‘Fuck off! I love you

-I love you! Fuck off

Dating rule – no skin contact on a first date

Rakim = natural aphrodisiac, Canibus = natural laxative

Dyslexic fishmonger – sold his sole 2 satan

She would compare herself to Hendrix: she wasn’t as good as him

What did nelly say to her broken tv?  “if you only had a guarantee…’ 

Her ass had gone downhill after childbirth – now it was grazing at the bottom of the field

The Kaka dirt – Quick and smooth


Anal Horsebox

That troublesome cove

Please sniff my arse

Maurice the excellently friendly alien

I killed Shergar

Trapped under rice (metallica covers band)


Gimme the lute (mideavel ochestra)

Anal cheeseflap

It’s Gas

Vinegar horse


I love triangles

IT wouldn’t solidify

Eat my portion

She was drinking a bottle a day, but it was only a miniature bottle from a gift set from Boots.

She imagined Jimi Hendrix would be unconcerned at the relative potency of modern weed – he would simply get much, much higher

She pulled a tampon out of herself and harshly shoved it home with her fist – the final insult

He could count the number of gay experiences he’d had on the fingers of no hands

You cant see the ‘C’ like you’re landlocked

Hallucinogenic mushroom suppository

Forget the tits, she would put them straight on the ass.

He could put her a name to her face, but could he put her face to his arse?

What did the stick say to her then boyfriend?

-I’m a stick wit’ you

What did Hetfield say to his son who was practicind the guitar on a bad amp?  -Don’t take that tone with me

He remembered his first dirt as an adult well.   It was a greasy little affair.

Gas? Merely an anal exhalation, my friend 

Author: Roger Francis AKA rog@littleandromeda.com Android

Musician, Artist, Writer. Telepath. Psychic. Schizophrenic. Auteur. Cat Lover. Cheap, Seedy Quality. Undiagnosed For The Truest State. Happy. Free. Poor. Weird. Eccentric. Single. R. That’s R Hippy, in a PICU

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