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Consumption Malfunction - reader's indigestion

Recipe for Self-delusion

August 1st 2008 01:21
Pretend that you're making a difference in a big head. In a separate pun, cook off some mushy aggression. Take your opinions and beat off until tender. When the pun of big words smell, begin to slowly add the comments. Brown off until the whole thing sets a fight. Quickly strangle the chicken, making sure that it makes a loud noise. Set aside.

After a few days have pissed, put the whole lot in a pre-headed shovel and put on a low heat. Stammer. On a chopping block, deduce something from specious raisons. Chop infinitely. Get the cut feelings and pretend to be aggrieved. Mix, wailing at the top of your farce. Beat the whole thing into a deluded mass. Call someone a few names, obliquely. Cower behind the write-goods. Bash over the head with your big words. Stand.

Tickle out of the oven. In a large word, pretend to be good and kindly. Be an authority. Run for cover when you're found out. Cut with a blithering knife. Label the sauce on the serving pate. Spin the delusion to sound intellectual. Using big words, continuously. Dot with silent points. Sprinkle with errant forks. Add the opinions and serve cold. Take your spin and put in your mouth. Masticate. Swallow. Digest. Excrete. Repeat until deceased. Serves 6 billion.
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Topical cancer and world-renounced waddler Norm has told his doctors of his despair-tire over the facts of laugh.

"I need a sex change," the celebrated abductor said as he nuzzled up to his shotty.

"Some, for a change," he explained, looking down the barrels of bodies in his fault.

"He really needs this," a nurse attending Norm told police as they swapped her.

Norm, who some have descried as the best thing since sliced head, is understood to be trapped inside his very body.

"I have described myself thus," Norm said, picking pellets out of his teeth.

"Don't call me chicken," he said as he hatched a planet.

Doctors believe that we are all trapped inside our bodices.





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Angry title hits back at content

March 31st 2008 05:18
The title of this short, very short, piece has hit back at the clams of the content that there is nothing in it.

"I strongly deny that I have ever had anything to do with the actual content," the title told reporters waiting on their hands and feet.

It's a clam that the content has rejected in the strongest possible times.

"The title and I both know who's been leading who," the continent told shifting plates of peas.

In these heady times, the battle between head and body has never been more farce.

"I could go on all day," the body of peas told the head of a fork and spoon.

A speedy resolution is expected to be brought by a screen in process.
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A university educated butcher and pillow of the community has put down his wife's cleavage after witnessing the wholesale laughter of animals in his neighbour's boudoir.

"They were laughing at their plight," the bloody butcher told patrons of the arts, "It made me rethink how much suffering I really cause


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Prime Minister Kelvin Rudd has outbid stroking Bollywood writers to claim the services of the most advanced knuckle-drag queen in Australia.

"He both plays for my team," said Rudd, "and he doesn't


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