Thursday, September 21, 2006

On Vacation

Hello there folks. I'm Angus Thripshaw. Those among you who are not retarded will have surmised from the title that Mr. Green Fish is on vacation. You may be asking yourselves at this very moment how this idiot has a job, and I have wondered the same thing. Never the less, he has given me eighteen dollars and a bottle of paint thinner to look after this blog for a couple of weeks. Needless to say, I'm not going to. I'm just going to leave this post, piss off, and you all will have to do without stupid letters, oceanic claptrap, lists of diseases, and the general pissing and moaning of a 32 year old malcontent with a stupid haircut. Ya sure, look at him trying to be all cool in that picture. Notice how you can't see the gut. Anyhoo, Fish Face aside, I do want to give you all at least one quality post. As sad as it seems, some of you read this twaddle on a regular basis, and you may remember me from this. For my glorious efforts that night I won a prostitute, a dose of the clap, fifty bucks, and a bottle of smelling salts. I also got the honour of compiling the entrees for next year's awards. So here it is; you submit your entry for worst poem by way of the comments section, and when old Fish Ass goes away for New Year's, I'll award The 2007 Guild Award for the year's worst poem on this blog. It's open to all, bloggers and non-blogger and anons. Enter as many times as you want, I really don't give a sweet flapping shit. Topics are wide open and can include sex, Jesus, pee, poop, David Haselhoff, TomKat, arses, willies, boobs, life, death, disease and anything your demented minds can cook up. Prizes are not finalized yet so I could use suggestions in that area. Safe to say that I am not adverse to offering a good rough shag from myself, Angus Thripshaw, to the lucky winner, or anyone else for that matter. Now bugger off.


The Writer said...

My Poem, entitled 'In 60 seconds written.'

Sex with Jesus makes me pee
And pooping with Hoff brings me glee
Tomkat, Arses, Willies, Boobs
I rub these on me with no clothes
Life & death, a disease that's demented
Winning this award I have cemented!

Now hand it over you crazy Hibernian bastard!!

The Writer said...

I hope by the term 'rough shag' you mean a frayed persian carpet?

elizabeth said...

Ode to the Greenfish


Oh, Greenfish. You are green. You are a fish.
You swim in the water. Your tail makes a 'swish'.

When a worm takes a dip, you eat him all up.
Then you go to the pub and you order a cup. (of soup)

Oh greenfish. So green. So fishy. So stinky.
Let me introduce you to a swanky octopus named inky.

Nice to meet you)

Good with lemon and spice. Pan fried or grilled.
Oh Greenfish, dear Greenfish... do you feel fulfilled?


Kat said...

The Chicken Fucker's Fable

I am the Chicken Fucker
born to a feather plucker
aka Ms. Chicken Tucker;
see, Mama had a fetish for
a chicken up her pinafore.

Around the barn I'd gravitate
to woo the hens out for a date
on which my firey loins could sate;
all this against Ms. Tucker's warn "hen dates'll bring your pecker harm!"

A silly, horny lad was I
for rubbing chickens up my thigh
all to the shock of passers-by
(I did, I forgot to mention,
enjoy a crowd for cuckold sessions).

I should have heard my dear old Ma
who's a scar on her vagina
from just this sort of whoopala
(which, by the way, I do no more
my pecker still is mighty sore).

T'was a sunny day the air was warm
the same as most on our chicken farm
when my favourite hen did bring me harm;
She mistook my long and pinkish nob
for an ear of corn still on the cob.

So if you want to fuck a hen
you might want to stop and think again
of what could happen to you then.
For a penis that's been pecked by hens
a penis that has seen the end.