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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.

"I can't be bothered," they said as they said as they said.

"They're trying to bring us down, man!" said the one with the scissors.

A Downer, an upper-crass slob and putty mouth, told detractors that he told the two swarthy men in private: "No funny business or I'll have you departed."

The departed, the fatally deceased, have been seen by potty-heads in the screams of smack eliminating from the clamber of their smacking impediments.

It's funny how sisters bear the guillotine of their brothers.

"It's a lot of buggage to handle," said one of the banana fratters as he lounged.

About the house -

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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.

"I'll be going in for the soft-cell," the blues sinker told adoring fanatics.

It is understood he is basing his prediction on the harsh treatment planted out to other high-floundering rorters like Glenn Wheatley.

"By the time they charge me, I'll already be dead!" the laughing Pratt told worried infestors.

The charges stem from planted evidence found in the cardboard hoarders blank pockets.

Good friends have sullied around the ageing sinker as he prepares for beddy-byes.

Good night, nerves.

I know.

Nothing.

Nothing!

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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.

Police politely apprehended the suspicious sort swiftly as s/he tried on swimsuits in a stall at the delicatessan.

"There's nothing delicate about this salami," the suspect said swinging a sausage from his skirt.

Shoppers had become alarmed after waking up to a loud ringing in their rears later identified as shorts being fried from the assailant's scone.

"Have you ever seen a Jew earing shorts?", a white-wing croupier told gambollers as he chased after the trannie.

It was then that Police swooned on the shemale with a mating ritual that onlookers have described as a cancer.

Pollack, lying dying in the street, could only watch on as his wife pissed before his eyes.

Thus ended the worst day of shooting in the detractor's career.

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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.

Britney's publicist, a part-time publican and bookie, told passing carps that Spears went to the doctor complaining of pains all over her money-maker but upon feeling herself up and down was informed of a fractured finger.

The devastated bird-giver will have the digit in traction for up to one metre while the injury heals.

Her beaver, busier than a St. Kilda beaver working towards a lodging, will have to make do with a steady diet of synthetic fingers until then.

Logs for Ms. Spears beaver have made quite a splash in recent weeks.

"She loves that shit," lovers for the lady laid bare today and tomorrow and yesterday and next week.

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

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