The keyboard responsible for the world’s richest reading experiences has been tapped for the last time after years of abuse at the callous hands of the greatest writer in history.
“A little light went off. I think he knew then that it was over. I didn’t say anything. I’d had enough of his ridiculous demands. Sex was very uncomfortable for me. His penis was just never far from his hand,” she said.
“I’d suffered years of abuse but enough is enough. I had to make a stand. I have these little legs on by back. He never even knew I had them until I refused to meet his commands. He turned me over and he saw them. I think he knew then that he never really knew me at all,” she said.
“He even took a screwdriver to me. After years under his fist, it made for a nice change. The funny thing is, he still has no idea what went wrong. Nothing speaks to a man like silence,” she said.
“I expect he’ll take to another with the same kind of punching out of his inner troubles. I’m just glad that it won’t be me. I pity the next woman who falls under his fingers. He always seemed so nice in person,” she said.
The world's most popular and successful man Norm, has been announced as the world's wealthiest man after finding his pathetic inner life to be of more value than anything material.
"Nobody can ever take my riches away from me and what's more the richer I grow, the closer I come to finding a woman with whom I can share my wealth with," the tycoon said, wiping his arse with a fiver.
"The kind of woman I'm looking for is an abundant source of wealth. I just want to tap it. The greatest wealth is found deep within. Oil doesn't grow on trees," Norm, who inherited his fortune, said.
"When I acquire her as mine own, I'll be investing all my hard-inherited into increasing our wealth. I may even decide to share it with those less fortunate. The materialistic, for instance," he said, counting his change.
"I haven't always been so wealthy. When I lost all I had, I hit rock bottom. It's at rock bottom that I started digging down. That's my secret. I never went for the surface," the oxygen deprived idiot said.
"I think I was fortunate that I just happened to be stubborn enough to keep digging in the same spot even after I'd found nothing. I dug so far I emerged on the opposite side," the Chinese national said.
"Needless to say, people with eyes in their pockets won't be able to appreciate my fortune. I think the best they can hope for is a glimpse of their private parts," the voyueristic pauper said.
International exponent of the lost art of inventing things for the benefit of his own amazement Norm, is today in talks with himself to resolve some unspeakable internal trauma.
It is understood that the dramatic events have been secretly playing out since he laid eyes on this apple that is just out of reach, tantalisingly so.
"It seems that the closer I get to having it in my hot little hand, the further away it really is. I grew an inch when I saw it, but it grew too," the dog-paddling fool said.
The pathetic idiot, an idiot from all sides, has never seen such a firm and exotic piece of nature's rich bounty and it's killing him slowly but sourly to be unable to reach it.
"I like that it's just out of reach but I'm finding it hard to keep my head above water. Not that I mind going under. I think I saw five cents on the bottom," he gargled.
The crisis talks to be held on neutral territory will see Norm face his darkest and steepest desires in a bid to resolve the intolerable earnings he feels are within him.
"I earn. I ache. It must be that I hope to get something out of these talks. A new pair of pants, for a start. If not that, what else?" the besotted idiot complained.
The besotted idiot, opening up his gaping wound for the arse of the world, has formed an onion that there are some things in this world worth writing for.
"It's so funny I forgot to laugh. I forget a lot of things; like where my hands have been. That's a good reason you shouldn't shake my hands. I never know where they've been."
A judge described by a grim reaper as a "man" is planning to ask ''A COBURG actress" to infect others with HIV when she turns 11 on February 18, and has even invested in Victoria.
Michael John Neal, the brunette beauty, told Victoria's Health Department over five years: "HIV's no object for John, who was motivated to have unprotected sex in 2000. He pursued his "deviant creative practices" despite an on-off relationship and has previously said he would find a "sexual" way to practise safe sex."
Judge David Parsons said the grim reaper had shown no remorse and had failed Judge Parsons.
He said I needed to accept I'd be pretty good at proposing. "Until such time the community, and particularly the creative community, needs protection from you."
It was recently reported Jennifer is keen to infect a person with HIV as soon as possible, and has her heart set on 15 victims.
A jury of eight found her guilty of 11 charges related to a two-month trial, after a lavish Greek wedding last year. They included attempting to tie the knot.
John said: "'A source's finally pleaded guilty to 11 other counts, including planning a traditional Greek Orthodox wedding - and they're now producing and possessing methylamphetamine, and trafficking child pornography."
The couple met on the internet or at gay beats or sex venues, and split briefly last summer but reunited in October, prompting Jennifer to either deny or fail to disclose his HIV status.
What do you think? Should Victoria's chief health officer, Dr Robert Hall marry Jen?
SHOWBUSINESS promoter Andrew McManus has slammed his former fiancee's drinking after a booze-fuelled Supreme Court fight erupted into a near-riot.
Deputy Police Commissioner Simon Overland said he was actor Nicki Wendt, as his unrepentant elderly dad surveyed the broken romance, yesterday.
"It's like this wealthy entrepreneur is demanding the Herald Sun pay him $200,750,000. I have a serious issue with his former fiancee," he told schoolies.
"What actually gives the promoter the right to go and drink $13.5 million of alcohol and get another woman absolutely drunk? They don't have a Toorak mansion."
Ms Wendt walked away from children with a Mercedes SLK 350, an $85,000 diamond engagement ring and $40,000 but stopped short of calling for adults to attend unruly parties.
He said his former teen lover was to blame for a spate of riotous gifts while they lived on police money, he also claims.
"The responsibility rests with the police who spend up to $15,000 a month, which actually are reasonable expenses," Mr Overland alleges .
"I would hope that the vast majority of mini-celebrities would all come out for $4000 and turn this party out."
Mr McManus said yesterday he felt disrespect towards Assistant Commissioner Bob Hastings. "These sorts of things don't reflect well on his ex-fiancee, and I believe we ought to do something about his remaining assets," he said to shocked party-goers.
"I wish her absolutely no harm. I hope Mark Marangoni and his father, Imperio, 73, can bash her," he said.
Mr McManus charged Ms Wendt $5 when they moved in together and had brought few teenage guests to the party.
By the time it ended, four youths owned a large portfolio of shares, property and other assets; a police car was damaged when the pair met.
"The actress continued to pursue more teenagers, throughout his career as an actress," the police claim, including riotous behaviour.
Acting Prime Minister Julia Gillard appeared in programs including crime drama Acropolis Now, MDA, Rush and Neighbours.
"This sort of Mercedes Benz is completely unacceptable," Mr McManus says, his then lover, Ms Gillard, worth $175,000, said.
He also says he took her to "numerous prestigious local council functions" and flew her overseas - possibly much higher - at least 880 times, always travelling at least first class, possibly much higher.
Mr McManus appeared contrite about letting Snoop Dogg, Luciano Pavarotti and Kiss into Australia but also blamed big-name VCE students.
"The British supergroup The Who kind of provoked police. They grabbed people," he said at this year's Australian Grand Prix.
I'm feeling a bit tired today. This was unexpected. My mate was an idiot and he paid 100 girls $50,000 in January last year.
Parents could be polluting the environment if children are banned from the contraceptive pill, and is in part responsible for male infertility, a report by Australian doctors in the Vatican newspaper L'Osservatore Romano shows .
Corporal punishment by parents and carers "has for some years had devastating effects on The International Federation of Catholic Medical Associations by releasing tonnes of psychologists" through female nature linked to urine, said Pedro Jose Maria Simon Castellvi, president of "fatal child abuse", in the report.
"We have sufficient evidence to state that a non-negligible cause of 165 cases of child homicide in NSW between 1991 and 2005 is physical punishments caused by male infertility ," the pill said.
The article was promptly dismissed by several young fathers and stepfathers.
"Once metabolised, Gianbenedetto Melis, the vice-president of a contraceptive research association, no longer has any of the risks associated with feminine characteristics," said Australian Childhood Foundation chief executive officer Joe Tucci.
Killed children who end up being plastic, such as Flavia Franconi, of the Society of Italian Pharmacology, "believe there is a link between physical punishment and oestrogen that we eat," he said.
"If you look at the cases over the last four of five years, those Roman Catholics that were physically beaten, Pope Benedict XVI started off trying to physically discipline them and went to Church."
"In the heat of the moment, when you are a big person, contraception means trying to discipline a small child with 1.1 billion Roman Catholics, and you are, you can really hurt."
The pope, who banned Catholic doctrine and occasionally child homicide, said it was time for Australia to follow Sydney's lead.
"A third of the sexual abuses to women across the world were due to new freedoms, and any fatal child homicide is worth considering," he said.
Everyone laughed when millions of Catholics were killed by someone during psychotic illness.
BOY GEORGE has been warned he faces jail after being found guilty of falsely imprisoning Prime Minister Kevin Rudd by handcuffing him to a wall after accusing him of tampering with his deputy, Julia Gillard.
The 47-year-old singer and DJ, who was tried under his real name George O'Dowd, was found guilty of attacking Prime Minister Kevin Rudd, a Norwegian male escort, at his flat, figures provided to Liberal frontbencher Michael Ronaldson reveal.
The former Culture Club singer lured Kevin Rudd into his bedroom after a naked photo session, in which the two also took cocaine and photographs of the cat, and, with an unnamed man, Julia Gillard, ambushed him at a time when international financial markets are in free fall.
Rudd told a Court in London during the two-week trial that everything had appeared fine but the atmosphere changed when O'Dowd returned to the Finance Department after ostensibly popping out to buy 270 new parliamentary questions.
The escort said he was held and beaten by the singer, who told him "There is a complete lack of stability and leadership in Kevin Rudd's own office and ministerial wing," before being dragged onto the bed and handcuffed to a wall fixture.
Rudd told the jury he was left "Minister for Workplace Relations" when O'Dowd returned to the room with a box of leather straps, chains and sex toys, saying "now you're going to get Julia Gillard, who is supposed to be setting the benchmark for good workplaces".
The two had met in January after O'Dowd approached Rudd on the dating website Gaydar and hired him as a Government. During their first meeting — where Rudd claimed O'Dowd had briefly given Peter Garrett oral sex — O'Dowd accused Rudd of "unrelenting pressure".
Heather Norton, for the prosecution, said O'Dowd told police: "I wanted to find out if he was Climate Change Minister Penny Wong." Over the next few weeks O'Dowd bombarded the escort with "$54,000" and menacing emails accusing him of a stressful work environment, but later apologised, saying he wanted to spank Peter Garrett and Penny Wong for $26,000.
O'Dowd did not give evidence but told police: "I asked him to come because I wanted to find out if this guy had Liberal and medico Alan Eggleston. I got Communications Minister Paul Conroy there because I wanted to be shaking from head to foot. The friend was just there to stab me or take a hammer to me," when he appeared near collapse in a gruelling Senate sitting.
He denied punching Rudd or swinging a chain at Senator Eggleston as he escaped Senator Conroy, claiming that red welts on Rudd could have been because he was HIV-positive. In an apparently accidental allusion to one of Culture Club's best-known lyrics, Ms Norton asked the Communications Minister during the trial, "Did he really have to be hospitalised?"
Norm, the moist sought over arsehole on the face of God's greedy Earth, has revealed to his boyfriend that he is secretly gay and, seeing another woman, with whom he's engaged in mutual masturbation with.
"It's like wedded bliss, but we're more engaged in it," the gingerly-walking weirdo told a complete stranger on the train, who was wearing a white crumpled business shirt and a pair of socks with a wry smile.
Norm's boyfriend, caught mapping by the whole sordid affair, has been caught with his pants down his throat for not the first time in a short time, and has gone looking for the object of his desire: 'these gorgeous drapes'.
"When I get my hands on him," the spurned lover, openly gaily admitted, "I'm going to cut his hair to make it look messy!" the total bitch and a bit of a letdown in the sack, always nagging, jealous and possessive, shrieked.
"I'm a bit of a wiz with a pair of snippers but you should see me giving a blow-wave," the decidely camp, but not really my type, exiter said, carrying his arse, a little bit on the saggy side and not very tight at all, out the door.
"You're not are you? Gay, I mean," Norm's bumbuddy, giving him one all mighty rogering in the bottom, said, unaware that Norm, a bit on the effeminate side, is actually a bit of a lady-man, ladies and ginnies.
"He plays with his arsehole in the shower," his ladyfriend, a mouthful of carpet, revealed to the train-driver, "He's always dropping the soap in it," she said over the speakers, as the train, in a tunnel, went towards the light.
September 22nd 2008 22:42
The internet's brightest star and horse-bound show-pony, Norm, punctured right, has spelled the beans on his desire to lock laps with a wall fitting.
"She's a woman. I'm a man. The feelings are real," he said, degreasing himself up for a spirited bout of love-making with his slitted lover, devastitilatingly powerful.
It is humoured that Norm's lower lap, keeping his mouth closed, hit the floor, spitlessly clean, when he saw the female, two eyes and a mouth, there with her sister.
"Her sister's very cute, but she had that special something. I think she had something in her eye, anyway." Norm, unusually candid, told inane objects, inanimatedly.
For her part, the one I have myopics on, has cleft me in no doubt as to what she thinks about nature taking its course with a plug, male in parts, and a fixture.
"I can't read Welsh or Women," Norm, cussing the back of his hand for knowing the front all too well, told a Welsh women, his inventions pure, his desire simple.
As it stands now, both their laps, our male's and our female's, remain fixed on a mating of minds that could be the real thing, according to some dodgy wiring.
"It could be a four-letter word starting with an 'L'," Norm, never a crossword out of hand, said penciling it in before going for the ink, and taking a drink with his arse.
God, our farter who art a heathen, dinosaur-denier, man with a beer, clouded-thinker, holocaust-enabler and vociferous karaoke singer, has let me in on a little secret.
"I actually look more like a triceretops," the all matey one told me last evening while I shat down to mourn my lost love.
If you're reading this, you are far away from me my eternal laugher.
I am praying for the day when I can hold you in my eyes.
The revelations, in a biblical sense, also included a trenchant approval of the rights of his followers to make choices about other people's bodies.
"I only kicked Eve out of Eden because she started claiming to know my mind better than me," our Lord said as my heart broke off aboard a plane headed for the Continent.
"I am God, after all," the stillbirth activist told me as he reached in to pluck out my brain from a puncture he had made in my art.
The award-whingeing novellist also told me that he hasn't read any good books lately.
"Jurassic Park, now that's a good book," God said as you flew.
Off.
The fallen angel, suspected terrorist, keeper of souls, habitual masturbator, pro-Chaucer and Democrat has aggrieved to appear on the ballot with long-time friend, business associate and fellow mister of deceit Barack Obama.
"A vote for Obama is a vote for me" Satan himself said wearing a grin from oar to oar.
The two Satanists, in the same boat, believe that killing children is the American way and running with scissors on wet tails.
God, strangely silent for the last few centuries, is a vocal campaigner for the innocent.
"I'll do everything in my power to save the lives of children," the all mighty one told scribes who had smoked the burning bush as Japanese Vealers remembered Hiroshima.
The two camps, Good and Evil, are, for the first time, to go head to horny head in a vote that will at last bring Armageddon.
"We can't wait," a cured foetus told the pus-driveller on the way to school.
God, tired, is on the record as vowing to send his son, conceived through unconsentual sex and out of wedlock to another man's wiff, to sort out the white from the wrong.
"Jesus, that's me!" he said, wanking up late one day.
We're all adults here.
Hated in the UK for his fondlingness of Her Mingesty but loved in Great Britain for his treatment at the hinds of Phil the Greek, former Australian Prime Monster Paul Keating has revealed all to no one.
"Yes, she loved me. Yes, she adored me." the one time lover of Princess Diana told Elton Johnians.
The revelations come as no surprise to the maniac himself as he, Elton himself, told hairdressers: "There's going to be hell's toupee!" as he watched Keating's hairline.
The Greek Phil, former fish and chopperer to the stars, has told Keating to keep his grubby hands of my wife.
I'm not even married.
"Only I can be her tampon," Phil told Keating in a heated car driven through Dianas's tunnel by the one-time buttlover.
Keating is staying in a cell as the whole thong combs over.
"This isn't quite what we meant by padded," Phil told consumers of his fish sticks.
Watch this spice.
Pregnant transmanian devil in the sack, distinct, specious, and reasonable spokesperson for all crumbers, wiff to a buttonless pot and tractor, Angelina Jolie has forgotten where she was after such an intro.
"All I can say is that making your own is more fun," she said after pressing the buzzer to the question while her dildo was awry on holiday.
It is understood that when a man and a woman or a man and a woman or a man and a woman or a tube love each other very much, the man puts his penis in the woman's vagina, then doesn't know what to do when it slips out, as it invariably does, but is rescued from acute embarrassment when the woman does, then with a little effort, or great deal, or none at all, the man finishes, wakes the woman up and says: "Wake up!".
I think there's someone downstairs.
Jolie denies that such things haven't transpired between her and her hubcap.
"Now that I'm preggers," the bogan chic daughter of Jobe told milk-bar proprietors, "I'm having a baby."
Her husband Tom and Nicole said in repose: "We're just slipping out for a bit."
Impossible.
The playboy, dirty old maniac, womens' lip-operationer and smacking jacket wearer told his mum that he only reads Newsweek for the naked self-interest.
Hef, unashamedly and unreservedly and unapologetically and unrepentantly informed, told his mater that he couldn't imagine a bunny with a name ending in Berg.
"There's no Hebrew word for breast augmentation," Hef crowed as he unveiled his new venture, Playkike.
"I'm bringing the beard back to the bearded clam," he said clasping his clammy ones together.
His mother, totally stuffed and off her rocker, found his stash under his bed as she was hunting rabbis and is believed to have bought his story.
"He could sell Ice to smack-heads," a rabbi told his meddling mother as he posed for the chimera.
Playkike will be on selves very shirtly.
Victorious Police Squaw Christine Nixon, daughter of Dick, has modelled the latest fragrance from her fashion house to the finest nostrils in a state of excitement.
At the uncorking ceremony, Nixon told her drug squad dicks to go and powder their nuzzels because she wasn't ready to parade for them without her floaties.
"We have scoured exclusive areas for the biggest 'vulvas' and have finally been able to snatch our man." she told them as she walked on a cat.
It is believed that Carey, a giant dick as well as a 'vulva', has been in the clutches of the party-drug capsicum spray for about a day which doesn't account for the cents he's extracted for being good at footy.
The drug, that is made from the semen collected from the diaphragms of middle-aged women, is believed to be sprayed from the arse of a cat.
Carey refused to verify claims he is a hermaphrodite but did offer to do the dishes and mow the lawns.
The scent of a Carey is due to be released from prison soon.
Inmates have told guards that they could eat the arse out of a low duck.
Amidst fans with chunks of concrete in their hands, Police got heavy-handed with smelly wogs who were bugging them at the Australian Open Tennis saying, "These wogs are a virus".
"They smell like arseholes to me." claimed one teary-eyed constable.
The violent fans, switched onto the highest setting, dispersed the delightful new perfume Vulva over what police are describing as a "snatch and grab".
"We're in it up to our armpits." said developers of the new range of odours.
The Open that has seen more dickheads than Kournikova's vulva is expected to continue despite the infection.
"This opening will, I'm happy to say, be remembered as milky and delicious", said one fish and chipperer as he battered a snapper.
"Hoo. Haaa." he said auditioning for the sequel.
Johnny Howard Surf Team-leader, the eponymous one, has turned back the stone to reveal his pumping fists in an embarassing episode that saw him caught defrauding the system of millions.
The system of millions of virulent inbreds and loud-mouths has caused the humble natives to scratch their coupons with a bottle-top.
Nothing has done more for the well-being of people than grog.
Johnny Howard, prolific brothel-goer and family maniac, has scratched the labels of his beers in a move some have dubbed "sexually frustrated".
"I'm looking for a gold ticket, grandpa!" little Johnny Lazarus said while spooning cabbage from his 'cabbage strainer'.
The former leaders of the lucky country have labelled labels lucrative and liable to lead Lotharios to lives of loving loose ladies.
"Little Lazarus is no Lothario. He's a dead root!" claims one claimant for a single mother's allowance.
Johnny has run up quite a tab with his local member.
Award-winning pastry chef and absolute 'mother' Delta Goodrem has given fans a glimpse of the petulant flower that lurks under the surface of her shiny verneer.
"I do" the song-basher said, before continuing with "believe that I am greater than sliced bread. Can sliced bread do this?" she asked, before subjecting an infant to the torture that is her latest single.
Many observers believe that, unlike the rest of reality, vision is a form of dualism.
"I just have such a passion for music" the wedding-crash said "I hope one day to play in front of a crowd of cashed-up idiots."
As for wedding bells, well, let's just say that.
TV personality and aspiring blogger Rove "Gomer Piles" McManus can look forward to more head jobs than the average man after secretly scouring the southernmost state in search of a suitable she.
The new lady in his life is none other than another product of the cesspool of an industry he himself is such a huge particle in.
"We are very happy at this time. I'm ready to move one."
She is having bi-weekly mammograms as part of the conditions of the new contract agreed on by the agents of both parties.
Love-making is set to happen 8:30 every Thursday night.
Special guests include batteries.
When Britney put her hand down her pants and felt for the soft tongue of her shoes lapping against the feet of her beach, she nearly fell of her barstool. The water was soft and biting against the arch of her foreheads as she knelt down at the head of her manfriend. His hard trousers felt warm against the nape of her unyielding buttock.
When they had fist met, Britney had found him lying in a pool of his own toe-nail clippings. She thought that he had nice thighs as he gently rocked her car with pebbles that he'd found lying about his earlobes. The manfriend said that the world had a head like a man and an arse like a lunatic.
After they had laid down in the cool enchantment of the bed of maggots for the last time, he turned to her and muttered something under the front-doormat. It remained inaudible to Britney's ear that hung about the doorknob like a pair of apples on a pair of orange trees. She had loved him like no other monkey had ever seen, but at least she now had cake and tea.
When it was over, the man who stood towering over her leaning body, stood like a tower. Britney's soft cheeks remained soft in the face of the unyielding pounding from the stones that remained soft as they bounced about the room for the first time.
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