Sunday, 14 June 2009

Cunts with Cocks.

And you know who the worst of them all was, don't you? MAN.

That was a quote from a film. Don't know which one but it's bound to be in one of them. And whatever film that was, it was right. Men are bastards. They're too big, too stupid, too ugly and too loud. And there's way too many of them. Yesterday I saw the worst kind of men and I pitied us all. This is what we've let happen.

I was working last night in a comedy club tucked away in the back of Tiger Tiger in Haymarket. If you've never been to a Tiger Tiger before then simply turn the heating in your living room up to 50 degrees, invite everyone you hate round and have them all fling their own fat dung at you. That's pretty much it. Just walking through the bar to the club is terrifying. You might get into a fight or, even worse, a relationship. You can't walk through a Tiger Tiger without praying to Jesus to make Muslim rule mandatory. The gig was fine but on the way out I knew I'd have to walk through the mess of Tiger Tiger again. That was OK. I knew where the door was so in just a few seconds I'd be out of here. It was then pointed out to me by a member of door staff that I was exiting through the wrong door. Did the member of door staff tap me on the shoulder, excuse himself and then politely point out my error? Not quite. The cunt grabbed me by my stomach and shouted "That's in". For a second I assumed I'd been raped by someone with the world's smallest cock but no he was simply an awful dickhead who doesn't know how to behave in this modern world. He grabbed my stomach like he'd grab a pie or a football or a copy of Nuts and just shouted his tiny-penised rules at me. The "out" door was just a few feet away. It wouldn't have been a big deal for him to just point it out but as he has nothing in his life, ABSOLUTELY NOTHING, except his own emptiness he had to grab my stomach and shout. Luckily, I am blessed with great wit and japed "Get your hands off me, you fucking cunt" before departing the cunt's company.

After a lovely gig at The Hampstead Comedy Club, I met Johnny Candon at Euston station. His train was a couple of minutes late so that gave me enough time to see a huge man scream at his girlfriend. It was a really sickening thing to see.He towered over this crying woman and shouted "You fucking ruin everything. You have to ruin everything, you stupid fucking bitch. You're a bitch. A fucking bitch. Why can't you just fuck off? You fucking bitch. You ruin everything". He screamed and screamed and got redder and redder while his girlfriend cried and apologised. He pointed right in her face and shouted "Bitch. Bitch. Bitch".

He was wearing a Superman T-Shirt.

Soon, his friends would lift him and drag him away while shouting at him to wise up. I would have done it myself but I was busy pouring all my runny excrement into my pants. He was horrible.

But that's Saturday night. If you go out then you're surrounded by horrible, nasty, violent men but if you stay in you're faced with John Barrowman and amateur singers. It is shit.

The whole evening wasn't that bad. At least I saw the coming of age of a boy while waiting at Euston Station. I saw this boy (aged about 12) looking at the screaming man and the crying woman and the disgust on his face was heavier than Motorhead. He actually rolled his eyes. Then he saw a poster for The Take, a new TV series starting on Sky One. The poster featured a woman in a tight red dress looking...well, slaggy, I suppose. He stared at the poster for ages not caring if anyone else saw him. It was like he'd just realised that women existed. At least this lad seemed to adore his girlfriend...

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2 comments:

Insults said...

Hilarious, as always! Now calm down, dear.

Michael Legge said...

NO!