The Deleter

" Vould you like to vide bitch unt my motorcycle?"

There was that time when a cyborg from the future came after me to stop me from writing this Blog because one of the posts gives one of my readers an idea for a new computer system, one that would never crash, was compatible with everything and had anti- pop up and spam that actually worked and could find free porn that was totally free.
I was sitting in the living room reading the newspaper with darts being played on the telly so the house wouldn't sound so quiet .
My then wife Rosie was in the kitchen cooking, as it was Friday and we always had a fry up for breakfast and dinner for good luck you know like the bloody Dutch.
All of a sudden my 2 Jack Russells Roger and Todger starting barking and going nuts, then the door bell rang,"Rosie the fucking Mormons are at the door again get the bucket of water".
I did feel sorry for the American lads who come over here to convert us savages, but where the fuck were they in 1941?
Rosie answered the door and from the hall I heard some intercourse a thud and a splash yes that does indeed sound like intercourse but something was wrong. "what the fuck is going on with the Osmond clones? are they giving you shit?" usually I'd set the dogs unto them but they had buggered off somewhere. I proceeded to strap on my prosthetic leg to kick some Yank arse like I did in 1812, speaking of Yank arse that Dolly Madison sure had some junk in her boot as the young uns say.
The glass door of the living room opened and it seemed as if a giant shadow had poured in dimming all light .
Standing there was a big fuck off crew cut muscle bound ghey biker with an Uzi 9 millimetre long slide lazer sighting,"queer Barry lives 3 doors doon if that's who ya are after?" "Are you Soren Knudsen?" I dyed my hair back then and could pass for 70 so I wasn't called old, his accent was thick, greasy and definitely German which raised my heckle and got my back up straight away, like nails on a chalk board.I recognised this wanker to be a cyborg from the future, always happens on a Tuesday "no ya dopey big poofer I'm Ava fucking Gardner do ya want my autograph?" he looked confused though his range of emotion seemed to be that of a dead starfish, he slowly raised his Uzi, I was ready to kick off my leg at him and get laid into the nazi cunt, I'm a Terrier, I never know when to back doon even though my two were behind the sofa shaking like Michael J Fox. I was about to make my move then he said one strange word, "voal", and his shoulders slumped , the bastard had crashed.
I speak 12 languages so was able to work out he actually meant to say 'Woal' but like the chinks say fluck the nazi cyborgs say 'V' for 'W' quite funny really not as good as a stutter but still good comedy.
So my bacon was burnt, no dinner for me, my dogs were wimps and now I'd have to shoot them, my hall carpet was soaking, there was fuck all on the telly tonight and I had a dead wife stinking up the place, why does this always happen to me?
I did the only thing there was to do, I pulled doon the cyborgs trousers and looked at his willy, I mean who wouldn't ? do ya want to know what I found? no? well ok then that's the story of the cyborg from the future , I drilled a hole up his arse and fed a wire through and he made a great standard lamp, a focal point for the room and a conversation starter .

I never get Terminators like this, c'mon future Bill Gates pull yer finger out, oops sorry you don't have fingers as you're just a brain in a jar connected to computer.


Ok then he was a smoothie and had a Microsoft logo instead of a knob.