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Consumption Malfunction - reader's indigestion

In a big head, cut off your noose to spit on your farce.
Flay in a steaming heap your opinions.
Pash your bible.
Wrap in a flag.
Preheat the slaves.
In a small mirror, have a lick at yourself.
Make sour your heir licks niece.
Comb your public heir for lace.
Smack crack.

Invade despotic notions with your farces.
Implement oily democracy.
Get the oil.
Add the opinions.
Spittle chips.
In a separate head, plant your ribbed ideals.
Take two straps back.
In a large prism facilty, house your slaves.
Hook on drugs and keep them cracking their hairs.

On a soppy box, stand.
Shout, pout and wiggle.
Straighten your tie.
When the word comes crashing down, run to the rack.
Balding.
Plug with arty facts.
In the preheaded slaves, place the mess.
Fly off the handle.
Spoil the starched cripples.

Waive the bible.
Place the preheaded slaves in your frying chair.
Cook until fried.
Stand.
Play to God.
Laugh your notion.
Serve on a bed of wowsers.
Drizzle with oil.
Good appetite!

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Man loves the sound of his own hand clapping

Man, the greatest thinker since sliced head, has refused to bow to his own mater after he was caught tossing off.

"I don't bow to anyone," Man said as he sat on the verge of wiping out his old fella.

"I don't want to fuck my mother," Man said, chopping his Father, Time, into little books.

"I already have," the supreme conquerer told his alien ancestors as he played to God.

Mother Nature is not sure of her son's understanding of his place within her.

"He's an animal in the sack," she said as she put him in a sack and threw him into the abyss.

"He's not the messiah," she said looking at the true Sun.

He's a boy.

"A boy's best friend is his mother," Man had earlier said, cleaning the bath.

Mother Nature, an endless source of riches for Man, is on her last logs.

"I used to be flat here," she said of her Middle Ages.

Time, the Father of Man, is running out for some smokes.



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Mugabe receives award
God would like to thank Mugabe for this award

Sir Robert Mugabe, rickety-livered black man, well-endowed knight, suit-wearer, Pims sniffer, house-nagger, and world reader responsible for killing people, has welcomed the praise of his people for making them rich.

"I make billions every year," said one very lucky little African handing over her hardly earned as she showered her leader in Poise panty-whiners.

Africa, once an untroubled outpost of our interests but now strife-stricken and in need of a spank on the bottom, has never really recovered from its past mistake of not going willingly.

"At least our Dictators don't hide behind the fallacy of Democracy," said a mouthpiss for Mugabe's best suit as the Queen handed back her golden gifts.

"These are very testing times for our incontinence," said another billioniare Zimbabwean as he wet himself at the prospect of our torturous methods of justice.

Killing is wrong, and I'd go to war to prove it.

Mugabe, a pall-bearer at Sadam Hussein's funeral, delivered a solemn service to the West after the occasion.

Yes, Sir, Master.

Yes, Sir.
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These ruminating mothers are safe from the Japanese Vealers

The Japanese Vealers have been met at the gate. Buy Australian Veal. Even after buying all our land, we still won the War. So there!

Holding up signs which read: "We are conducting cullinary tests", the Vealers were met by protesting mothers wearing lather jackets and slurping tea with their fluffy scorns, jammed.

Cows, responsible for Global Warming, are earmucked to be slaughtered in record numbers and their calves taken into State care, or summarily executed also.

"The only way to solve their embarrassing omissions is to stamp them and their offspring out, totally," legendary rugger Peter Garrett told his wailing martyr.

The Japanese are only too happy to help pout.

"It's a wink-wink situation," Garrett winked as he looked back at Molly Meldrum, who was sprouting a hat at the time.

Lather, of course.
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A convention of leading scientists has descended into a lascivious and quite unnatural gay orgy when an irate homosexual denied his very existence.

"The facts are that I find other men very arousing," the fridge-picker told his closet before the affair turned heated and avuncular.

Nothing cod be further from homosexuality than a love of hard facts.

"I love a hard fact as much as the next man, or the man next to me," the delicate creature told his floppy.

It was indeed this display that set the scientific fruiternity into a frenzy of budgie-snuggling that only ended with severe camping.

"Homosexuals are so gay!" he said with the proof of his very nature in his hands.

Homosexuality, with its roots in homo meaning arse and sexuality meaning penchant, is the latest phenomenon to threaten our very back doors.

"I'm not letting anyone near my back door," the homodenier said stroking his telescope as he peered into a black hole after the affair was over, his hunger quenched.

"Except him!" he said pointing out something very bright in the distance.

Homosexuals have quite rightly earned the froth of the new zealous with their fragrant disregard for the rights of others.

I can smell one from a smile off.



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Serial Killers Union of Australia (SKUA) boss Ivan Milat has met with officials from the meat industry to discuss a possible amalgamation of the two industries that Milat describes as "very, very, very, very, violent."

"Most people, the great majority, think that acts of wretched violence, brutality and inhumanity are somehow utterly repugnant to them," the multilpe mutilator told his gun collection.

"That they think this as they tuck into their mutton-chops, in their leather shoes is what I would call having your head in the bloody sand-pit," he chuffed chewing his rump.

A meat-worker, who wished to remain in a blood-stained suit and accustomed to the wholesale slaughter of the innocent, has asked vegetarians protesting the stringing-up and throat-slitting of beasts to "eat me".

"Clearly killing is every communities bread and butter," he called from his carcass.

That ordinary people think they are not directly responsible for taking lives is just more evidence of the world in which we live.

That we live in fear of it coming back to bite us at the hands of a more brutal (human)animal is not a fair price to pay.

That not enough of us here in a free-country aren't taken by murderers has me scratching my only mutton-chops.


SKUA boss Milat told his victims that his victims tolled more than the humans he tied up and tortured.

"I started out with animals," the skewerer said, "then I really took to people."
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