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116. When Life Gives You Lemons

Posted on: September 26th, 2010 by Colonel Crabtree-Smythe No Comments

Hello Christine Bleakley cartoonladies and gentlefolk back again eh?… like a sex addict to a Soho whore house for some salacious goings on with an Eastern European sex slave or perhaps for my new memoirs, and I have to say before we begin (although to be fair we have already started and the mere fact that you are reading this sentence suggests that you are with me and have been since the start)… but the point is things have gone too far this time… what with Sage’s accusations, presumptions and actions. So here it is, a sad indictment of our times, but I suppose when I think about it it’s more like an admission of guilt, are you still at a loss my friends? Well you would be, I am thinking, reflecting upon, perhaps even speculating about those secret lemonade drinker advertisements of yesteryear, the fact of the matter is I think the whole ad campaign was a secret code for the House Of Decadent Dalliances, the secret club for behavior of the worst kind.

I have had in the past reasons to visit that house of decadent behavior, that mock Tudor devils dungeon of a place, that vile place in a Lib-Lab Politicians Basement, yes that notorious house in a Hampstead Garden Suburb where decadent sexual behavior with a cross section of our society was and still is a prevalent occurrence. Where Peers of our realm, politicians, and famous actors were and are still able to have it away with the common people… the secret lemonade drinkers of our world.

Sounds fun you may surmise but not all are welcome to this fetishers paradise of dreams and that is where the lemonade ad campaign comes into play and this is where things take a turn for the worse… one might even say that things take a sour twist at this point. First to gain admission one has to dress up in school boy pajamas and then on cue has to sing the R-Whites theme tune while shoving a whole lemon up ones bottom. Now if this is not humiliating enough the worst thing about all of this is that Louis Walsh makes the final decision as to whether or not you pass the R Whites audition for secret lemonade drinkers and liberal thrusters. So, if Louis gives you the nod you’re in and free to engage in all the kinds of sexual depravity known to man, and woman, and beast. However, in addition to this whole sordid story just to add some spice to proceedings I know our man Sage failed to impress the judges with his rendition of the R Whites number.

I know they liked his pajamas and were quite impressed with his singing but Sage failed on the most important aspect of the audition process, our man Sage failed to insert the whole lemon up his arse and he was devastated to be turned away. The sad thing is if Sage came to me before the audition I could’ve given him some pointers on how to get the whole lemon up his already over worked dung hole. So that is that other than to say I know Cyndi Lauper was beside herself with grief when she found out that Sage Macorkadale was sent packing with his tail between his legs by the fluttering flounce that is Louis Walsh.

So there we go ladies and gentlemen nothing changes but please let me add before I vamoose – because I feel it would be amiss of me not to tell of the wonderful smiling Christine Beaky. People say she is a dullard who sleeps or has slept with Frank Lampard on several occasions but i can tell you this: While I was investigating the secrets of the secret lemonade drinkers I was amazed to see Beaky in full bloom, and she is no doubt to my mind a lemon guzzler of high aptitude. A secret lemonade drinker with a renowned talent no less for deep throat guzzling, I’m sure of that, and I remember watching her like a mother watches her child taking his or her first steps… utterly in awe of the moment. I remember seeing Beaky first hand as her eyes filled with salt water, truth be told I don’t know if she was laughing or crying but it was a sight to behold to see Beaky in her pajamas while shoving a lemon up her arse and singing the R Whites Lemonade theme tune… like I say nothing shocks me anymore.

Before I go, for those of you that are interested I have heard on my grapevine that they (the secret controllers of the Secret Lemonade Drinker Society) have plans to move the premises of sordid activity due to the fact that I – Colonel Crabtree-Smythe – have found out so much about there goings on.

Knowing for a fact that Ray Winston, James Nesbitt, and of course with a little help from the ringmaster himself – Sean Bean – have been working on a subliminal advertisement for the new premises. It is common knowledge that Ray will be doing another advertisement for Kelloggs soon and it will be for a new brand called of cereal that is to be called “Creepy Crunch”.

It is all in the name, and I believe, and yes I have a very good source on the inside who has verified my thoughts on this subject that the new Francis Dashwood breed will be called “The Creepy Crunchers” and the new premises for their activity will be held at Sting and Trudy Stylers humble abode in Tuscany.

I suppose they (they being the corporate yes men) should praise the Lord now that they can get their knobs rubbed by common people like you, but you can leave their arses alone for they have been well bought and sold. I much preferred the song “secret lemonade drinker” myself but I suppose times have changed.

I blame that Northern arse licker Sean Bean myself… he really is a Creepy Cruncher…

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