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14. Dawn French

Posted on: January 20th, 2008 by Colonel Crabtree-Smythe 4 Comments

I must say, Alvin Lindwall , what a boring man. Waffling on at me about mop squeezing. But in the long-run, is it worth the energy to dislike him? Unlike Sage for he really hates him for some reason…it maybe subliminal… perhaps he really likes him. It’s possible because Sage did invite Lindwall over to his home on the Heath. Sage said it was to descale his tumble dryer, but I think that is Hampstead Heathen street talk or Heath talk… some sort of code for untoward activity behind the woodshed. He’s a dirty boy is Sage (who pretends to be otherwise). A sort of bow-tie bounder, a lay-by leech. Which is why, in my eyes, he pretends to shun the boring manthat is Lindwall. But not to worry, how could I possibly understand the inner workings of such a man as Sage? I tried to change the subject, tried to get Sage to sing a song but he would have none of it. Geldof was mentioned in that particular interview.A self-made man. Yes, he is full of himself. He pretends to be a man of peace… not a jot of truth in it. For I know he carries around the Irish version of the ‘Final Solution’ the Gallic translation by the childrens pocket money thief Louis Walsh…

Now, as you know, I did make mention of the Whoopee cushion that is Dawn French and her dodgy Husband Lenny Henry. I mean, I don’t like to be the one to mention this… but I must for my brain hurts imagining their lovemaking… the point about it is; I must release myself from the blatant thought processes that lead me into these hideous realms of ‘fat lovemaking’. I have carried these images around with me since my plumber, Ernie Ellis Baxingdale, told me of the gross under-view that he encountered whilst mending a stopcock at the house of Dawn and Lennie.

Money shotThey were trying to have a quick coupling on the Kitchen table. The truth is, the poor plumber was transfixed as he watched Lennie try to enter. But a real problem ensued; Lennie, being a weighted person himself, and Dawn being as round as a barrel of large fishes.Well, you have guessed it.The essential coupling was not as it should be. Entrance was denied by virtue of Lennys limited attack… there being too much of a joint fatty overlap, a flesh impasse you might say… in other words… Lennie didn’t know if he had entered dear sweet Dawn or was just fucking ‘her generous over spill’ (the plumbers words not mine). A fleshy feast without the trifle as it were.

Piss shotNow my friend the plumber was caught in two minds-Should he make himself known to the fatty slices of embittered blubber? Or wait until this episode of unrequited passion burnt itself out? Well, he didn’t have long to wait, for Dawn released herself from the unfulfilled embrace let rip a humungous fart and then ran into the bedroom for her own release… leaving Henry to knock one out into the sink. Which of course was the plumbers nightmare as Lennys undulating release trickled down Ernie Ellis Baxingdales forehead. He kept this to himself and bit his lip suffering this awful indignity in silence… But the final straw was when Lennie peed into the sink which made matters worse, as I’m sure you can imagine. The mix of Lennys double release was unpalatable in the extreme. It was at that point that Sage said masturbation was not his thing.

Changing the subject now; Ratty the Pope has a chequered past. I wanted to discuss this subject but Sage was scared to discuss the Popes youthful indiscretions and told me to move on. I think Sage sides with the Vatican. I think he thinks I’m hard work, for he got very irate and threatened to attack me with his stick. Another Sage situation that shocked me (and I’m pretty much unshockable) was that Sage admitted to me that he was plundered and maltreated by Edward Heath: the obsessive nose picker and bogey eater. He said that the PM gave him some pound shillings and pence for his pleasure… Heath’s pleasure not Sages. I think there is a point to be made here. I think that the rampant Heath was Sage’s first. It was at this point I left the studio. I think Sage is in denial and he kept saying it was my fault that he opened up these past goings on… he said that I had used Freudian tactics to draw it out of him. ‘Hello Sailor’ I say… boom boom…

On this day I met the evil Leonard Limpkin. What can I say? He is the worst homeless singer I have ever heard. He smelt of patchouli, piss, tobacco, methadone and cider… utterly awful. Then he had the audacity to sing a song called ‘Sophistication’. Maybe he was being ironic but it went over my head especially when Limpkin took off his shoes and socks to reveal webbed feet and brown stained toenails. It looked like his feet had been chasing the dragon-I could take no more and I told him where to get off.

Sage loves to feel like he is giving people a chance, it massages his ego in some sort of sick homoerotic way. Either that or Sage loves a retard which is why he hates me… he can’t pigeon hole me…

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4 Responses

  1. Thats quite possibly the most mental blog post I’ve ever read. I hold you responsible for me pissing myself. Bookmarked for further reading in due course.

  2. The couple didn’t know that they have called a plumber and he’s already working there?

  3. Colonel Crabtree Smythe says:

    They didnt know he was under the sink ! He had told them he had to pop the the store to purchace a stop cock !!! Never question my integrities !!!!

  4. OMG… the money shot……

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