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Consumption Malfunction - reader's indigestion

Scrambled Sweet - Consumption Malfunction

Recipe for Scrambled Logic on Toast

July 30th 2008 22:41

Whistle your eggs in a bile with your bleaters into wide pokes.
In a flying pun, meld a tamponspanner of buttocks.
Add your opinions.
Fly until goaded.
Remove from the pun and quietly dud the eggs.
Stare contemptuosly, making sure not to spurn your laughers.
Take one crass of read-whinge. Drunk.
In a simpering pun clock up some spoiled spades.
Boil until mad with rouge. Drink some more whinge.
When the opinions are as you lick them, smash your head against a prickwall.
Toast to your goaded heart. Muddle.
Place in a large monitor and bake for 2 yards.
Dash the opinions, head, eggs, ogles into your toast.
Sneezing to taste.
Garnish with harps.
Good appetite!

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Posted By: Norm - Category: Food, Scrambled, Sweet, Muddy

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Alternative medicine practitioner captured after living in disguise as a murderous thug

July 23rd 2008 01:32

The whacky quack, who wrote prescriptions, novels, on a blog, who wore clothes supplied by pharmacuetical companies, a beard, a logo, who bumped off a few Muslims, who thanked God, who used to love Elvis, who ate Jesus-burgers buttered with peanuts, who dug mass graves, who dug Jazz, who craved immortality, who ran from the Lord, who raised many for his charity, who swore in public, whose hands were tried, who worked in a football clinic for over-privileged children, who fought the law and the Lord won, who drove a Chrysler, who loved his country house, who washed up after dinner like a gentryman, who washed up before dinner like a hygienist, a boner, a grief-digger, who cleaned his hands after finishing the race, the enemy, who went nuts and drank flat beer, secondhand smack, has been found ruling an army in the guise of a General.

Stylists for the Doctor are pleased with his new look, his new smell, his new ardour, his new apparel, his new gunsmith, his new shovel, his new sallow crave, his tickling time bum, his sense of stale, and have praised his manners, his ettiquette, his practice, his posture, his hymning voice, his advice, his orders, and have laughed off calls he was ever a doctor, a medicinal practitioner, an educated manager of disease.

"Hahaha," they said, smiling, waving, bending over backwards, trying on a new hat, new undies, new Coke, new car, new stereo, new microwave, new TV, new baby.

"We're not happy about our bodies," the dysmorphic dead have whispered in the rear of the perceptive, the recepticals, the holier-than-hell, the morbidly obtuse, the trendy and inwardly mobile.

"Do I look like a New Age guy?" the brutal SNAG mused, wondered, pondered, all the while brushing his bushy beard, fiddling, playing, with his celloist, his conductor, his nurse, his assistant, losing his patience, his virtue, his vice, his hammer, his suckle.

You be the judge.

I'll just be trying.

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Posted By: Norm - Category: Health, Scrambled, Sweet, Muddy

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Stillbirths: God's silent way of saying he approves of abortion

July 1st 2008 01:07

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.

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Posted By: Norm - Category: Love, Scrambled, Sweet, Corny

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Corby's brothers on A Downer

June 23rd 2008 01:20

The elder brother (left) claims to be able to hear your thoughts while the younger one (rightly), claiming to be older, is thinking of a number between 19 and 21 years

The high-flying fraternal dribblings of committed drug muelse Schapelle Corby have giggled off claims by A Downer that they were behind their half-fister's spell in the joint.

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Posted By: Norm - Category: Family, Scrambled, Sweet, Muddy

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Richard Pratt facing the Clink

June 21st 2008 03:03

The upstanding businessman

The millionaire businessmaniac, philanderer, and grovel threated frontman for iconoclastic cardboard band Cold Cheezel has sung for the first time about his date with bumbling officers.

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Posted By: Norm - Category: Entertainment, Scrambled, Sweet, Nutty

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Transgendered man murders Sydney Pollack

May 27th 2008 13:19

The heavily pregnant father of his wife and gun wielding wrestling maniac told the disbelieving Pollack, before he pimped him full of lead, that he was one of his chosen people.

"I am not saying I'm God, or that I'm a know-it-all. I'm just saying I'm a woman trapped inside the body of a man," the transgendered man told customs officials

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Posted By: Norm - Category: Entertainment, Scrambled, Sweet, Nutty

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Britney Spears Hospitalized With A Break In Her Finger

March 16th 2008 04:40

The buxom beauty behind so many of our favourite ballads has gone ballistic at the break in her bony beaver-burrower.

"It smells fishy to me," undies-nostrillers told themselves while whacking their walnuts

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Posted By: Norm - Category: Health, Scrambled, Sweet, Muddy

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