You may have been thinking that I, your beloved Captain, only created the Greatest Superhero Film Of All Time using Xtranormal, but you would be wrong.  Oh, so wrong, Floppyballs.

You see, Paul and Charles were friends long before they became superheroes.

If you’ve ever been in a band, you will recognise the nature of this discussion:

That’s all you’re getting for now.  Don’t be greedy.

Our time together is precious to me.  So precious that I feel I should share more than just pictures.

Do you know what Xtranormal is?  I started to create the Greatest Superhero Film Of All Time using Xtranormal, then they started wanting to charge me for my account.

(Note: DO NOT give me free stuff and then try to charge me for it later, Floppyballs.)

So, I temporarily abandoned the project, leaving only two episodes to fade away into obscurity legend.

You are now about to witness something so magnificent that you will ache to tell your children (even the illegimate ones, you promiscuous prunt) about:

I don’t think there’s really much more to say, is there?

I realize that the title of this missive may put you in mind of the slowest erection ever recorded, since The Government started recording these things in the mid-60′s.  But no, that is not the case.  Not this time.

As part of my eternal quest to provide everyone with everything they never needed (and also because work today has felt like the equivalent of performing self-trepanation with a filthy dessert spoon from the back of George Michael’s “drugs drawer”) I’d like to share with you some samples from my collection of junk email subject lines.

If you’re a fan of those big boxes of assorted chocolates that every fucking candy company and their mother puts out around this time of year, you’re going to shit yourself in ecstasy.  This is going to be just like those, except with cock instead of pralines.

Let’s begin…

1. Turn your trouser mouse into a one-eyed giant with this brand new medicine

— I have a ‘trouser RAT’, thank you very much.  Insulting a potential customer is “bad for business”, Floppyballs.

2. Your short sword could be much longer and win you more s’e_xual battles!

Everyone knows it’s not the size of the sword, it’s how well you master the Stuck und Bruch.

3. My new guy’s prick is enormous, and my mouth is tiny.

This highlights the importance of planning any penis-enlargement endeavour very carefully.

4. Your baby-maker needs to be bigger in order to perform its functions well

Please, don’t refer to my manhood as a “baby-maker”.  “Trouser mouse” – fine.

5. Beat her womb with your new big rod, so that she knew who wears the pants!

As recommended in the book, “Men Are From Mars, Women Get They Wombs Beat”.

6. Have you ever felt a kiss of a womb? With your new big rod you’ll feel it!

Have you ever felt a kiss of a wombat?  They are cute!

Kiss of the womb, or kiss of the wombat? You decide!

7. May i ask why you’re so unhappy with your dick?

I resent the assumption on your part that I’m unhappy with my dick.  Do you know something I don’t?

8. Take a challenge of a penile size competition and win with our wonder-med!cine!

Why couldn’t I have received this one before my ill-fated entry into the 2006 Mr Cockiverse Pageant?

9. Let your dick become something she will never forget!

LET my dick become something she’ll never forget??  I ain’t stoppin’ you, Mr Penis.  Go to town!

and last, but certainly not least…

10. You surely deserve to be packed with larger dick

This does not ‘fit in’ well with my sexual preference, but thank you for the compliment.

I hope you’ve enjoyed our time together as much as I have.

Yes, you heard right.

All the goodness that was over there on the Blogger blog is now here.

I did a quick import, so the formatting ain’t as spiffy on those older musings, but you don’t give a fuck, do you?  No.

Stay tuned, floppyballs.

I might abandon my shit over there on Blogger, Blogspot, whatever the FUCK the Google Masters Of The Universe are calling their shit now.

What do YOU think? Should I abandon that shit, or what?

Hello.  I know that people not only like pictures, but they also like videos.  Some people like music.  This is not a video, per se, but it does contain music, and it is the inaugural post on my blog.

I’ve chosen it because this song was the inspiration for my blog title, and it seems as good a place to start as any.

I hope that we can still be friends.

Hi.
There aren’t many things that are certain in this world, but there’s one thing I do know:

PEOPLE LOVE PICTURES!

That’s why I’m going to include lots of pictures in my posts now.  Starting right this second

I don’t know who this guy is, but dog-GAM-it, he’s a suave motherfucker, int he?  I don’t know if it’s the moustache, or that devilish look in his eye that wins me over, but won over I am.

Now, I know you’ve got your appetite well and truly whetted by that lovely pic of Mister Pouty, so I got some more fo’ dat ass right chere:

This is a great little drawing I found somewhere.  I’m sorry I don’t know who the artiste is.  If you are it, please let me know and I’ll happily begrudgingly give you credit.  
You can never go wrong giving a gun to a monkey.

From monkeys with guns to Easter Bunnies with evil in their hearts…

That year, all the chocolate eggs were filled with rat poison, and instead of Easter hay in our baskets, we had industrial grade fibreglass insulation.

Lastly, but certainly not leastly, I’d like to share with you a little drawing that I did myself in celebration of the release of the amazing, groundbreaking, and technically-perfect iPhone 4.

That’s all for now…oh, sorry…I know this post didn’t mention poor Cheryl Cole and her malarial infection, but you must admit, there were four pics!  That’s “lots” in my book!

<3

Hello.  How are you?  It’s been a while, I know.

I’ve changed the look of this shit.  What do you think?  I knew you’d like it.

Don’t get too attached, though.  It will probably change again.

LOOK…I never said this shit was anything but a work in progress (even if I never said that, specifically, either), so if you don’t like it, go eat a brick.

<3

So I’m walking home from my girlfriend’s place tonight, just before midnight, when a ways up the road I clock some dude with a bicycle.

Now, I don’t know about YOU, but I make a point of not making eye contact with people I see in the street at such a late hour…

Well, as I got closer I hear this: “Oi oi oi!…” (I ignore this.)

Then I hear: “OOOIIIII!!!” (You really have to imagine all of this said in the most retarded sounding voice you could ever have the misfortune of hearing.)

I look up with a gaze of what I hope is a representative mix of extreme hatred and loathing, and hear the immortal question, “Y’have a sig-uh-raaat?” (This is accompanied by a hand motion imitating the use of said sig-uh-raaat. Like I wouldn’t have a clue what a sig-uh-raaat IS. What a dick.)

In what I hope was my most hatefully dismissive tone, I say, “I don’t.” The fuckhole looked away before he even heard my answer, which leads me to believe that maybe my eyes actually glowed red when I looked at him. Didn’t even get a “Thanks, mate!” or anything.

As I ponder this encounter, I think: I’m already paying the taxes which allow you, dear fuckhole, to hang around on the streets at midnight with your equally despicable friends, safe in the knowledge that you don’t have to do anything ridiculous like actually have a job and maybe contribute to society in some small fashion, and you’re asking me for a sig-uh-raaat?? I wouldn’t give you a sig-uh-raaat if I DID have one.

But then it dawns on me. I’m looking at this with completely the wrong attitude…

I should do this town, and the world, a service. I should start carrying sig-uh-raaats around with me, so when these wastes of sperm and egg ask for one, I can cheerily say, “Here you go, my friend, smoke up! Smoke like the wind! Fill your lungs with that sweet tar and nicotine! Die as soon as you can, mate!”

The Nobel Fucking Peace Prize is mine.

There’s entirely too much debate going on about Google’s new Street View facility. What, exactly, is the problem?

Here are a few reasons why people need to stop complaining:

1. If you’ve been caught through the open curtains on your front window parading naked through the room, you are an attention-whore and you should be happy millions can now see you.

2. If you’ve been caught entering a sex shop and you’re so ashamed you actually contact Google to remove the image, perhaps you should be thinking about your motivations in the first place.

3. If you’ve been caught on film vomiting in your city centre, stop drinking so much you chav bastard/slag.

4. If you’ve been caught in the middle of committing a crime…good! I hope you smiled real pretty for the camera.

5. If you’ve been caught sticking a pineapple up your….hold on, I’m fucking laughing my goddamned ass off right now. I’ve just seen a blog that has listed a “CON” of Street View thusly:

-can capture private or criminal moments (ex. leaning over and exposing underwear, drug deal, house burning down, walking out of adult video store)

This person then summarises their “CONS” list by saying Street View “can invade privacy“. I’m sorry, you ignorant shit, but if you’re dealing drugs or committing some other crime (drug dealing is still a crime, right?), then you have forsaken any rights to privacy you previously held. When you eventually get caught and sent to prison, do you think you’ll be taken seriously when you say to your cellmate, “Not tonight, Antoine, I need a little ‘private time’.” Look…Antoine is gonna make you his bitch, so forget about privacy, asshole. Pun intended.

Now…where was I?…

No wait…street view can capture a “house burning down”? Yeah, it’s true. Seems a bit sad that the Google camera crew actually took pictures of that. But wait! This could be a wonderful thing! If the reason the house is on fire is arson, the Google team might capture an image of the twisted firestarter making his getaway. Oh sorry…that would be an invasion of his or her privacy, according to this person.

Now, listen up. I’m as liberal as anyone really should be. I think people can do anything they like, until they infringe on another person’s human rights (and I mean “human rights” in the most universal sense). Once you’ve intentionally and unequivocably committed a crime against another person, that’s it. All bets are off. You are a lonesome fugitive and should not only be shunned by society, but actively hunted down and made to pay for your crime(s). None of this “out on bail” bullshit.

So anyway…what were we talking about?

Oh yeah…Google Street View. Pretty neat.