I think I've finally cracked it: not the meaning of life as such, but definitely the simplest most surefire method of harvesting some squids with the minimum of effort.
I suppose I've contracted a dose of the Rowlings. Not that I'm a huge fan of her books, or children come to that. I concur with the late Dorothy Parker, who loved children but couldn't eat a whole one. All munchkins should be banned from supermarkets, and all excessive breeders forced to pay penal rates of income tax to compensate for the general misery that their fruitful loins cause to sprogless adults who do not regard the extrusion of mini mes as a crowning achievement in life.
They can't be ignored as a market demographic though; their deluded parents happy to indulge their every whim with pecuniary largesse. I wouldn't mind a bit of bourgeois lucre bulging in my pockets, so I've decided to become an author of childrens literature. I did briefly consider erotic literature, but decided that I'd just end up getting nominated for the Bad Sex Awards.
I've decided on the title of my first meisterwork and my pseudonym:
'TWATWEASEL AND THE MARZIPAN DILDO'
by
DWEEZIL FLANAGAN
All I have to do now is write the book and wait for the royalties to flood in.
Tax exile in the Bahamas beckons.
10 comments:
Twat Weasel looked out of the window and sighed.
"If only I had put them off till tomorrow!" he mused.
He checked his diary. Sure enough, there it was:
TUESDAY 31 MARCH - Fight Big Hairy Monster
"This really is a job for me and my Marzipan Dildo", he gasped, squeezing himself into his spangly boob tube and strapping on his Marzipan Dildo.
"Civilisation as we know it is depending on me and my ability to manage my appointments efficiently..."
Just then, the room shook! He was thrown onto the floor, still holding his Super-Weasel crushed velvet cape and, his carefully arranged, colour-coded row of Killer Dildos cascaded from the shelf, raining down upon him. The room darkened as the sky went black.........
Hope that helps, garfy old mate.
Hmmm. This has potential FT, but don't think for a moment that I won't sue for breach of copywrite should you steal my confectionary marital aid idea and use it to enrich yourself.
I'll also come over and give you a good kicking.
It was a gift.
Although now you mention it, it does have potential...
What Ideas (of yours)???! *innocent blink*
©FT 2007
The Welsh have no rights.
I'd still give you a good kicking anyway, or slap you with a leek, because you are small (not that the Welshish are midgets).
My mother used to tell me that the smell of marzipan was the last thing a condemned prisoner in the gas chamber smelt,due to cyanide having an almondy smell.
Oh, the things she would say to stop us robbing the Christmas larder.
Mmmmmm! Marzipan! What a novel way to get a (pseudo)blowjob.
You go ahead with that plan, Dweezil.
Crikey. Marzipan is one of my favourite things (yes, in a wholesome Julie Andrews way) so I'm orf before it is forever Freudian(ly) tainted.
wow! that is a fantastic idea. just imagining the throngs of eager mommies and daddies flinging banknotes your way makes my mouth water with sympathetic greed. more childrens stories should include almondine confectionary dildi.
now i am bleeding out one ear. pardon me.
Dildos do not not exist in Julieandrewsland Arabella. Marzipan lederhosen yes, Dildos no.
I merely have the talent for one volume FN, you have at least a quadrilogy in you.
Wait a minute.... must...vent...my ...spleeeeeeen....
Ah, that's better.
Should ya? Would ya? Could ya? Of course, you would make a BRILLIANT children's author. Finally, someone who won't talk down to our sprogs!
You'll make millions and I could be your personal secretary! With a 25% cut, of course... Of the profits mind you...
Post a Comment