Incubus

Mutterings and Such Things

Issue: Eleventeenish | Published Wheneverly ©

Welcome to the Mutterings and Such Thing.

This is a kind of a collection of things from places all combinated into one large mass of stupidity. Althought it's mostly just twatters pulled in from Twitter.

My name is Phil. Although I am known as Peter and Fluffy. And sometimes even Arse. It depends on who you ask. I'm old (28 29!), work as a front end web developerdesignertype and do I.T. consultationishness. I aspire to be rich, famous, muscular, tall and not a total arse.

I enjoy long walks on the beach, combing my hair eastwards, jumping around in circular motions, eating chocolate through straws and complaining. Or maybe just complaining. And being sarcastic & cynical. Oh, and spreading the wrath and disgust of 28 29 years of a darkened soul, wallowing in it's own self-pity and high moral lowgrounds.

Or something.

Tag Archives: telly

Cher is fucking shit. White girl can’t rap. Or sing actually. Or draw eyebrows too for that matter. Chav.

Are Gillian’s ears sliding off her head?

Alison has a truly magnificent 5 o’clock shadow on I’m a Celebrity.

Pins! Pins! Is that you in the buttons box? Making all that noise? Or is it black? Black! Black!

Like the endless blackness of space that leads to the chasm of Clams!

Black! Like the Procession of Night which leads us into the Valley of Despair!

Listen! Listen! Do you hear? The moon is weeping in a secret room! They tap at my window with tiny paws!

Black! Like the Clouds of Death that follow me into the Forest of Doom and hide in the Wardrobe of Darkness!

Christ, the X factor is boring and shit.

Shadows and lies! Shadows and lies!

What’s for tea, Mother? Shadows and Lies!?

Yawn X-factor, yawn million adverts, yawn artist pluggage, yawn X-factor. When will you die like Big Brother? Yawn.

What do you think candy is made out of? Sunshine and farts! What the hell kind of question is that?!

Ah! I see you have the machine that goes ‘ping’. This is my favourite.

It’ll be dark soon, and they mostly come at night. Mostly.

A-well-a everybody’s heard about the bird. B-b-b-bird bird bird, b-bird is the word.

Oh, have you not heard? It was my understanding that everyone had heard.

Well there seems to be an absence of a certain ornithological piece. A headline regarding mass awareness of a certain avian variety.

I’ve no time for law-breakers. My legs are grey, my ears are nulled, my eyes are old and bent.

Your mother was a hamster and your father smelled of elderberries!

I don’t want to talk to you no more, you empty headed animal food trough wiper! I fart in your general direction!



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