Hmmmm . . . so did we get the name of Klown's foot-long dildo wrong . . . or does he have two?
Why are you talking to me, Arsehole?
I hope I haven't become an obsession with you ...
Who's talking to you, fag?
Still smacks of obsession, no matter how you try to explain it away, Fats.
Sooo ... a dildo works with batteries, does it? Wouldn't know. Never had the need for one.
Did wifey dearest tell you that? Is that what she said when she unwrapped her latest power tool model last night?
Shame!! You and your fat body no longer able to get it up ... leaving her with no option but to turn to technology, to science? Her only solution ... that or find a real man. Does she cry out in ecstasy while you watch all frustrated?
Hey Soft Cock ?
Never mind. You can always console yourself with another beer. Chalk it down to old age if you like. That way you can pretend that you are still a man and that she still wants you. That it's you she's fantasizing over while playing with her new battery powered toy.
"Hey everyone, look at me. I'm Klown and I'm so hard. I hate fags because I'm such a masculine manly man. Me and my manly hetero mates like to go out and beat up fags, moffies, tailgunners and queers. That's because we're such hard cases. We're real men who hate fags . . . say, did any of you see the pictures I put up of body builders in tiny pink thongs? Which was your favourite, Ronnie or Serge? I love Ronnie but I must say Serge is my all time fave! I think Therge is thimply thuper . . . I'd love to the the thandwich filling between Ronnie and Therge . . . ooooohhh it maketh me jutht thqueal with delight to think about Therge's big hard . . . hang on . . . what was I saying about fags . . . I really hate fags . . ."
Feeling better now, Soft Cock?
It's not going to help. Your wife will still be taken to new found heights by her battery operated buzz toy ... spread wide and groaning with delight ...and all you can do is sit quietly and reminisce on days past when your limp appendage was used for more than passing water.
I feel for you, bud .. not.
Well ... I seem to have my very own fan club. Soft Cock, SharkShit and TailGuner Plums.
What a combination you lot make.
Picture the scene . . .
Mrs Klown: “I’m going to the shops, need anything?”
Klown: “Well I wouldn’t mind a new speedo but that last one you bought me was way too big.”
Mrs Klown “Too big? It was a boys age 9-10 for goodness sake!”
Klown: “Well it was too big . . . get me one size smaller.”
Mrs Klown: “Good grief, okay then . . . any particular colour?”
Klown: “Maybe red . . . or white . . . or something in between . . . a sort of reddish white or a whitish red.”
Mrs Klown: “You mean pink?”
Klown: “No not pink. Pink is for fags. I hate fags. Just get something sort of between red and white. Something manly.”
Mrs Klown: “Okay then, one reddish whitish boys speedo then . . . anything else?”
Klown: “You can get me some more long life batteries.”
Mrs Klown: “More batteries? Again? I bought new batteries two days ago. Why on earth do you need so many batteries? What are you doing with all these batteries?”
Klown: “Manly stuff.”
Mrs Klown: “Well whatever it is, I’ve never known anyone to go through so many batteries . . . you’re creating your very own power surge . . . now what are you doing? Why in the name of all that is holy are you lying face down on the floor, biting on a pillow and pulling your butt-cheeks apart?”
Klown: “It’s your fault . . . you said Power Serge!”
Mrs Klown: “What’s wrong with saying ‘power surge’? What is wrong with you?”
Klown: “You said it again! Power Serge . . . mmmm . . . oh Serge, Serge . . . ”
Mrs Klown: “You need help . . . I’m going to the shops . . . and when I get back, I don’t want to see any more of those sticky discharges all over the carpet again, okay?”
Klown: “Ooooh Serge . . . oh Ronnie . . . oh Serge . . . Ronnie . . . Serge . . . batteries . . . I need batteries . . .
Power Tool Girl walks down the passage towards the bedroom, with a sparkle in the eye, colour to her cheeks, something she hasn't had for many a year, humming her favourite tune softly to herself.
She and “Ronnie Coleman” were intimate last night. The soft buzzing of her new found delight carried on into the early hours of the morning. It wasn’t enough to overpower the loud snoring that came from the balding man that lay next to her.
She enters the bedroom only to find SoftCock sitting on the edge of the bed, slumped over, holding his comb-overed head in his hands, muttering to himself.
Power Tool Girl - “What’s wrong dear?”
SoftCock - “It’s that damn CleanCut. I feel so inadequate. He says that he takes 35kg dumbbells ... IN EACH HAND ... and exercises with them ... SITTING DOWN. I can hardly lift my mug of beer to my lips. It’s just so unfair!”
Power Tool Girl - “But sweetie, it’s the internet. He could be lying to you”
SoftCock – “Yes, I realize that, but what if it’s true? On top of that, he says he can run a kilometer in under 4 minutes. I can’t even run from here to the kitchen. I’m such a weed”
Power Tool Girl – “Oh come now my cuddly little bear. He’s probably a lot younger than you. You really shouldn’t be so hard on yourself”
SoftCock – “That’s just it. He’s only a few months younger than I am. It’s so infuriating. He spends his life pounding the pavement and lifting weights, while I sit in the lounge getting drunk on beer, eating biscuits and pork pies and becoming addicted to painkillers. It’s a wonder that you and I are still so happy. You do still love me, right?”
Power Tool Girl – “Yes ... of course dear” ... she lovingly glances over to Ronnie standing proudly on her bedside table. “You are the only man for me, my love. Stop asking me that”
SoftCock – “You know what he did the other day? He posted youtube clips of these incredible men on the rugby site. Bodybuilders ... dressed in nothing but skimpy little thongs. It was so intimidating. I looked at my fat, soft beer belly and couldn’t help but to make a comparison. Oh it really is so unfair ... sniff! ... I’m so gross ... are you sure you still love me, Honey Buns?”
Power Tool Girl – “Yes of course I love you. We’ve been together since high school. I’ve never been with anyone but you ... for years and years and years ... and years ... sigh!. You are my only love” ... once again glancing over at proud Ronnie.
SoftCock – “ These muscled men didn’t have a single hair on their bodies. Not one. Look at me. I have hair on my ears, on my back, all over my soft belly, even hair running up and down my butt crack. I’m so gross ... are you really sure you love me, Punkin?”
Power Tool Girl – Oh for heavens sake. Stop asking me that. Tell you what, I’ll get a pack of new razor blades this morning and then we can shave your entire body ... back and butt crack included. I’m sure, with a little effort, we’ll be able to get between the folds on your back and remove every hair there. Would that cheer you up?”
SoftCock – “I don’t know. Those men wore such skimpy little thongs. I realize it was for the purpose of exposing as much body muscle to the judges as possible, but still, me mocking CleanCut didn’t help at all. I still feel so inadequate ... so gross. All I want to do is cover myself up from adams apple to my yellowed toenails”
Power Tool Girl – “Oh don’t be silly. I have made an appointment at the doctors for you, so that you can ask him to renew you prescription for those little blue pills. That should lift your spirits, right, my cuddly little pooky wooky?”
SoftCock – “Yes. Thank you! If only I was a real man like Clean Cut. He’s such an inspiration to me. You know, a few weeks back I mocked him on his approach and method of playing SuperBru. I was so far ahead of him, I thought he would never catch me ... but .. but .. but ... now he’s 5 pts clear of me. Oh what a man. I so wish I was like him”.
Power Tool Girl – “Yes. He sounds really wonderful, dear. 35kg dumbbells per hand you say? You really should invite him over. I would love to meet him” ... once again glancing over at Ronnie sitting proudly and erect on the bedside table.
"You know, a few weeks back I mocked him on his approach and method of playing SuperBru. I was so far ahead of him, I thought he would never catch me ... but .. but .. but ... now he’s 5 pts clear of me. Oh what a man. I so wish I was like him"
I bet you'd rather not enter anything where you'd have to expose that fat, flabby, soft, hair covered, pasty little body of yours.
You really are a sad little "man".
Best you stick to your lounge chair with a beer in one hand and a pie in the other.