Captain Memo could parallel park better than any Amazon.
Once many years back I signed on to sail with the Nautilus a fancy modern looking ship that could go beneath the water.
It was under the command of a Captain Memo. He was a strange man who hardly ever talked because when he did the crew erupted into laughter as his voice sounded as if he had been huffing on Helium, its hard to do a rant about the evils of man against his fellow man and the world at large when you sound like Alvin and the Chipmonks. I'm sure David Beckham has that trouble also but being pretty others tend to put up with him more, plus he is somebody he knows Tom Cruise.
To maintain crew discipline the Captain wrote his orders onto yellow posties and the first mate Monghella would slap them onto yer forehead.
The Nautilus being a submarine powered by Dilithium crystals that are commonly found along the coast of Wales could stay under water for weeks. To earn money for chewing tobacco and food we fished for Merfolk for their blubber and sold it to the Bodyshop for soap (hence the name of the shop) and we cut their tails off to sell to china as an aphrodisiac, from what I hear, even though they are good with maths the chinkys have small willies, and if they have trouble getting them up well it shows you what God does to non-believers, ah indeed a God of love.
As you probably could guess I was immensely popular with the crew as I get along with everyone.
I did have this gas trouble though, once it stank like the Devil himself had pinched off a loaf so I was going to light a match, then I thought how that freaks some people out so I decided to open a window instead , we call them Port holes, well on less you're on the Starboard side (the right) then we call them windows.
Yes I did forget about the being underwater thing.
To cut a long story short I was left to rot on a desert island with a postie on my forehead that said ' Dickhead' as the nautilus sailed away.
Have you seen my son Nemo? that little cunt is in for it when I get him home.
If you've ever been on a desert island you go through 3 stages, Denial, Despair, Paranoia , Crazy and Hallucinations, as I lived my life in these 3 stages I was already in trouble but I wasn't alone, I had a conch named Wilson who bestowed the title 'Lord of the Pies' as he taught me how to make pies out of sand and sea water, tasted like Steak and Kidney.
I was walking along the beach licking my lips at the sand when I saw some foot prints that weren't mine, being an expert tracker I could tell they were size 7 Manolo Blahnik black I think. I followed them doon the beach and into the jungle, I was like a wild animal on the hunt, all my senses alive ready to kill for survival well until I was pleasantly captured by half naked Amazons who took me to their city.
Living with the Amazons was very very hard, a lesser man would of shriveled up in the face of it.
It was not much to look at, not a straight angle in the place and the measurements were all off, weemen. I was the only male in the place as they practiced sex cannibalism and sold the boy babies on E-bay, not a great system if you ask me which was why they were quite happy to have me there. Now I wasn't looking my best after having spent almost 2 hours alone starving, eating nothing but sand pies and having no Brylcreem products.
I was on the Legendary island of Leezboss, and was made into their beast of burden, I had to do such labours such as lift heavy things and kill spiders, its bad when a population of 1000 weemen go apeshit over a tiny spider.
With every arachnid I stomped I grew in fame, I became like a famous gladiator armed with a slipper and a rolled up newspaper (The Amazon herald) facing the evil with those cool cruel compound eyes and hairy legs, the spiders I mean though the weemen didn't shave too much either and I think they may of been of Greek descent going by the hair amount .
Soon my talents were in much demand, everyone had a spider in their bathtub or thought they had one in their gunties and could I look.
Things progressed and I became the local stud, having seen the worth of men and how obviously superior they are they decided to keep any male babies and not eat their mate,(in a bad way) I tried to tell them that all men are bastards except for me but they wouldn't listen and so stopped boats that came past by waving their titties.
I was getting sick of the constant sex by a different woman every night whose only goal is to please me, ::::::yawn:::::::: I wanted to get back to Scotland and find a gurl there to have drunken belligerent sex with and if I was really lucky she'd be a shaver, Knudsen says: A hairy woman is a scary woman.
While the Amazons were busy with a crew of fisherman, I borrowed their boat and took off home, the weemen of Scotland were uglier and more aggressive than I remember fuck that's so sexy.
I do miss the Amazons, the greatest gift I gave to them wasn't tolerance and understanding , it was Greek fire, I was pissing razor blades, don't worry I'm cleared up now.
It was under the command of a Captain Memo. He was a strange man who hardly ever talked because when he did the crew erupted into laughter as his voice sounded as if he had been huffing on Helium, its hard to do a rant about the evils of man against his fellow man and the world at large when you sound like Alvin and the Chipmonks. I'm sure David Beckham has that trouble also but being pretty others tend to put up with him more, plus he is somebody he knows Tom Cruise.
To maintain crew discipline the Captain wrote his orders onto yellow posties and the first mate Monghella would slap them onto yer forehead.
The Nautilus being a submarine powered by Dilithium crystals that are commonly found along the coast of Wales could stay under water for weeks. To earn money for chewing tobacco and food we fished for Merfolk for their blubber and sold it to the Bodyshop for soap (hence the name of the shop) and we cut their tails off to sell to china as an aphrodisiac, from what I hear, even though they are good with maths the chinkys have small willies, and if they have trouble getting them up well it shows you what God does to non-believers, ah indeed a God of love.
As you probably could guess I was immensely popular with the crew as I get along with everyone.
I did have this gas trouble though, once it stank like the Devil himself had pinched off a loaf so I was going to light a match, then I thought how that freaks some people out so I decided to open a window instead , we call them Port holes, well on less you're on the Starboard side (the right) then we call them windows.
Yes I did forget about the being underwater thing.
To cut a long story short I was left to rot on a desert island with a postie on my forehead that said ' Dickhead' as the nautilus sailed away.
Have you seen my son Nemo? that little cunt is in for it when I get him home.If you've ever been on a desert island you go through 3 stages, Denial, Despair, Paranoia , Crazy and Hallucinations, as I lived my life in these 3 stages I was already in trouble but I wasn't alone, I had a conch named Wilson who bestowed the title 'Lord of the Pies' as he taught me how to make pies out of sand and sea water, tasted like Steak and Kidney.
I was walking along the beach licking my lips at the sand when I saw some foot prints that weren't mine, being an expert tracker I could tell they were size 7 Manolo Blahnik black I think. I followed them doon the beach and into the jungle, I was like a wild animal on the hunt, all my senses alive ready to kill for survival well until I was pleasantly captured by half naked Amazons who took me to their city.
Living with the Amazons was very very hard, a lesser man would of shriveled up in the face of it.It was not much to look at, not a straight angle in the place and the measurements were all off, weemen. I was the only male in the place as they practiced sex cannibalism and sold the boy babies on E-bay, not a great system if you ask me which was why they were quite happy to have me there. Now I wasn't looking my best after having spent almost 2 hours alone starving, eating nothing but sand pies and having no Brylcreem products.
I was on the Legendary island of Leezboss, and was made into their beast of burden, I had to do such labours such as lift heavy things and kill spiders, its bad when a population of 1000 weemen go apeshit over a tiny spider.
With every arachnid I stomped I grew in fame, I became like a famous gladiator armed with a slipper and a rolled up newspaper (The Amazon herald) facing the evil with those cool cruel compound eyes and hairy legs, the spiders I mean though the weemen didn't shave too much either and I think they may of been of Greek descent going by the hair amount .
Soon my talents were in much demand, everyone had a spider in their bathtub or thought they had one in their gunties and could I look.
Things progressed and I became the local stud, having seen the worth of men and how obviously superior they are they decided to keep any male babies and not eat their mate,(in a bad way) I tried to tell them that all men are bastards except for me but they wouldn't listen and so stopped boats that came past by waving their titties.
I was getting sick of the constant sex by a different woman every night whose only goal is to please me, ::::::yawn:::::::: I wanted to get back to Scotland and find a gurl there to have drunken belligerent sex with and if I was really lucky she'd be a shaver, Knudsen says: A hairy woman is a scary woman.
While the Amazons were busy with a crew of fisherman, I borrowed their boat and took off home, the weemen of Scotland were uglier and more aggressive than I remember fuck that's so sexy.
I do miss the Amazons, the greatest gift I gave to them wasn't tolerance and understanding , it was Greek fire, I was pissing razor blades, don't worry I'm cleared up now.
4 comments:
Holy Crap, Knudsen. You do manage to cross the line in glorious ways.
crankyprof if I had put that connection together before then that picture wouldn't have been posted, GM makes me sick, I was just thinking how cool James Mason was.
sassy sundry because you're mine, I cross the line.
Bloody Hell!Boy,have you travelled!Whenever i go abroad i end up alone pissed in some karaoke-bar in tosser-del-mar all night long listening to endless germans singing "It's Iranian Men ,Hallelujah,it's Iranian men..."
I try to get out and to meet people so I can reasons not to like them, Iranian men huh? I wanna go out and get myself absolutely soaking wet.
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