Your Beard May Be Full Of Fecal Matter

This guy hasn't washed in 60 years and smokes animal shit so I'm sure his beard is full of cack. 

I've long been interested in the trends of clean shaven as opposed to beards and have watched with amusement the outright discrimination that having a beard generates from some .... 'oh you'd better be clean shaven if you want to apply for a job' ..... it's not a fucking face tattoo and unlike a face, neck or hand tattoo a beard does not display yer lack of class or IQ.

Not that this guy could grow any real facial hair.

Why will no one give me a job? Must be religious persecution because I have an upside down pentagram on my head, even Devil worshipers need jobs you know. 

The story going around Facebook is how yer hipster beard may be full of fecal matter, unlike clean shaven men. News headlines like, 'Beards contain more poo than toilets' get bandied about which means people are pooping on hipsters rather than using their shitters .... Hey I don't judge, nothing wrong with a hot lunch.  

Old Knudsen was smearing shit over his face long before the hipsters thought it was cool by the way.

The study was done by a TV station and not in a very scientific way, swabbing bearded men but no clean shaven ones .... oh c'mon people. 

Beardless Microbiologist John Golobic said, "I’m usually not surprised, and I was surprised by this, there would be a degree of uncleanliness that would be somewhat disturbing."

First day as a Microbiologist? Is that even a real thing? Does Mr Golobic not know that bacteria is everywhere? Yes even the kind found in fecal matter, did you know that when you smell a fart you are inhaling bacteria found in fecal matter?

I hope Mr Golobic never swabs his toothbrush, aye sure having the fecal matter of yer own family on yer toothbrush, face cloth and whatever is one thing but when the electrician doing a repair asks if he can use yer bog ..... 2 million bacteria per square inch on yer bathroom floor alone.

The kitchen sink is usually less sanitary than yer toilet so mix it up sometimes by crapping in the sink and doing the dishes in the crapper.

Yer carpeted floor is 4,000 times more dirty than yer toilet seat and yon computer keyboard ... well just don't think about it. Hey yer phone is ringing, someone wants to tell you that yer phone is 500 times dirtier than the toilet, yeah hold it up to yer face so you can listen.

MSNBC reported that 72% of shopping carts had fecal bacteria on them. Most food production has an acceptable amount (5%) of rodent feces/hair and insects in whatever foods they make. You can't avoid it.

There are many men who can't grow beards, sure it makes you less of a man but I'm sure yer a very nice person. Of course those people all work in the werld of personal grooming and the beard cum back is bad news for them. 

You are head to toe covered in bacteria, some maybe from the family related to fecal matter but not all bacteria is harmful, most of our bacteria is beneficial. Remember when those aliens invaded and as soon as they opened the door they died? .... good times, that was beneficial or remember when we gave small pox blankets to the injuns? ..... ok not a good example but if we didn't kill all those Native Americans with our beneficial European germs we wouldn't have all those fine American cities and states named in their honour. 

Showering in bleach everyday won't get rid of the bacteria but washing yer hands and being mindful of what you touch will help you stay more healthy. 

Old Knudsen doesn't mind germs, his own but other people's germs are not acceptable. Cough and sneeze into yer elbow crack (vampire sneeze) not yer hand, push elevator buttons with yer knuckles and when a public restroom has a door you have to pull or push in order to get out use yer cuff over yer hand. 

Who the fuck designs a restroom with doors you have to touch? No wonder many people just don't bother to wash their hands. 

If you have a beard use common sense, pick bits of left over food out of it and give it a rinse after some muff diving, don't listen to the beardless facial hair haters, they probably kiss their wee doggies and kitties. Clean shaven men have as much bacteria on them as bearded ones have, their shit does stink.    

Bright Lights Big Shitty

The people of East Belfast are not really known for their enlightenment, in fact it has been claimed that they possess more Neanderthal DNA than most. Yesterday a filthy Romanian was riding his bicycle of abuse when a durty Eastern Belfast man/creature threw shit at him.

Did he just have the shit handy? Was it his own? Can he produce a constant stream on demand? Was there nuts or sweetcorn in it?

If you don't want one just say no, don't give them any shit.

Who the fuck does that? Yeah being asked to for money by Romanian Big Issue sellers can be annoying but this is taking the piss .... if you excuse my incorrect terminology there.

News just in, a second attack on a man who isn't white has occurred in Eastern Belfast, they beat him with sticks until he gave them all of his bananas ..... Loyalists are probably to blame, aren't they always?  

Ach you think, 'I hope this week goes ok without some dickhead showing us up as backwards, poorly educated cuntybaws' then they throw petrol bombs at a political office and throw feces at an immigrant.

Can the people of Northern Ireland do anything else but hate?  I know a lot of the hatreds are passed doon from the parents, fight against the faulty programming and think for yerself.


Game of thrones, Titanic and Liam Neeson can only do so much into tricking people to visit and invest here.  

        

Fire In The Hole

Haven't done a post today, cos I can't be arsed. I'm all bloated cos me poo is all bunged up there so as you can imagine I've got bigger things to worry about. It's been 7 or 8 days since my last movement and it's starting to get serious as I have a date with a lovely lass tomorrow night.

I definitely don't want this happening again.

Well thanks for listening, I'll keep you posted on the corn hole front, maybe I'll get a wee toilet  camera like how the BBC look at baby birds in the nesting box . Of course I may not be near a toilet when I decide to pebble dash everything but thats just how Old Knudsen rolls.

Shit Its The A-Team.

In 1972, a crack commando unit was sent to prison by a military court for a crime they didn't commit. These men promptly escaped a maximum security stockade to the Los Angeles underground. Today, still wanted by the government, they survive as soldiers of fortune. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire...the A-Team.

In the 80's I tried to get back into acting, hoping to slip in under the long noses of the Jews that had blackballed me from Hollywood, see previously on Old Knudsen. Little does the average punter know but I was one of the original members of the hit TV show The A-team, there was Colonel John " Hannibal" Smith, (George Peppard) Sergeant Bosco "Bad Attitude" Baracas, ( Mr. T, Lawrence Tero) Lieutenant Templeton "Faceman" Peck (as played in the pilot by Tim Dunigan) and me who played Captain B.B. "Howling Mad" Knudsen the mentally disturbed Nam vet pilot, and there was of course a token broad as a news paper reporter.

George Peppard was the star and he made sure everyone knew about it, the biggest trailer with a vibrating recliner, he'd always start off conversations to the director this way, "when I made breakfast at Tiffany's, this was my best angle" or "during the making of Operation crossbow close ups of me worked better on 90% of the takes."

The rest of us hit our marks and said our lines .

I am from the school of method acting, Brando, De Niro, Keitel, all pussies, I became Howling Mad Knudsen.

One day the director came to me, "Soren, I just don't think you're feeling the character, the man has been to war, hes seen things he shouldn't have seen, they all have but Howling mad, took it worse."

Its true I wasn't feeling my character, how come the Vietnam vet ex special forces couldn't hit anything they shot at, and no one ever died? was this why they lost Nam? plus my fake American accent was on power with Madonna's fake British one, the director finished with these words,"George thinks you should be more loopy." I didn't understand as character was up in a plane not chasing Charlie doon tunnels, why was he the crazy one? maybe a chemical imbalance?

What was with Mr T's chains? did he wear those in the jungle? oh no its a little bodybuilder with excessive jewelry quietly creeping up on us, camouflage lad shape, shine, surface and silhouette.

I went home for the day and thought about it all, I rented out Apocalypse now, One flew over the Cuckoos nest and Chitty chitty bang bang, I was going to become Howling mad Knudsen and become the breakout character of the 80's, this was going to make me bigger than Rocky.

The next day I went to the studios with a plastic bag filled with acting prop. I hid behind my entrance mark and prepared myself with prop on cue I ran out, my face covered in my own feces, licking it from my fingers and clucking like a chicken, I then jumped onto George Peppard's leg and started to dry hump it.

I had become Captain B.B. Howling Mad Knudsen, I was the greatest actor in the world.

After they fired me and I got out of the mental hospital hospital I heard that a Dwight Schultz had gotten my role and was now Howling Mad Murdock, he was somewhat successful and I hold no grudges, even though his name sounds like a nazi or something, that fucker.

Face had a nervous breakdown after seeing me rape George Peppard's leg and was replaced by Dirk Benedict. Peppard called me several times after that asking me out, I had to change my number, they just didn't understand the art that is acting.

Caravan Of love.

Sex, Drama, Passion and the mention of Old Knudsen's dripping cock.





One day in our village we heard the tinkling of metal and the clip clopping of horses. I rushed to the window and looked out to see the gayly painted caravans, "the Gypsies are coming Mummy the Gypsies are coming" then I rushed outside and skipped along side the road, very odd behaviour as my mother lives in her retirement bungalow doon in Newquay.

The villagers looked worried and held their children close to them, laws prohibiting the existence of Gypsies, Gyppos,Pikeys,Knackers,Tinkers,Travelers,Kale,Romnichals or Romany have long since been done away with no more deporting our scum to America or Australia we were stuck with them.
Only one person was tough enough to deal with these type of people who steal yer washing when its hung out to dry, rape yer livestock and probably sell yer weemen and children given the chance yes only one person was man enough but unfortunately she was doon in Sheffield at a china painting convention, Old Knudsen would have to do.

They set up their camp in the Barley field, no barley there but the local council had put in some nice skinny trees attached to thick stakes to make the field look nice, the funny thing with council trees are they never seem to grow into real thick tall trees, maybe its because they always get torn doon by vandals I don't know, remember tie the stake to the tree not the tree to the stake.

I knew the complete history of Gypsies, I'd watched a History channel special on them well I half watched it as I was waiting on 'The history of sex' to cum on, what a waste of time you didn't even see a tit never mind sex and I had taped over Star Gate SG fucking 1 for that shite. I walked into the camp my arms laden with blankets, beads and mirrors, I loved the way mirrors always freak them out.



I walked up to this old fella that had a commanding way about him I could tell he was the leader, scrawny but muscular, a sneer permanently on his face and a "fuck off " permanently on his lips, his flat cap told me he wielded power over others, like a less good looking version of me but dirty of course.
I'm no stranger to accents having a fine one meself but I could not understand half the shite this guy said he handed out my goods and blurted out strange Gyppo words like I-pod and X-box I was at a loss and so was he.


We sat doon by the camp fire and drank some strange alcoholic brew out of jars I kept the children entertained by jiggling my hoose keys at them, a simple people to be sure then it happened.

Fuckin Gyppos always start in with their music, this was exactly like the camp I was at.
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To be expected at every Gyppo camp someone started playing a violin, beautiful haunting music everyone started chanting ,"Rose Rose" and out of the shadows stepped Rose, like a young Sophia Loren she started dancing, her large breasts hypnotised me as they swayed and jiggled at times only inches from my face. I knew I'd probably have to fight the strongest braves or hang for 18 hours with eagle claws stuck into my nipples but I had to have her .

Rose finished her dancing and stepped back into the shadows with a cum hither look in her eyes, Silverback as I had come to call the head man mumbled something and waved me on after her I didn't need to be told twice.

My head was spinning from the drink and my knob was dripping with excitement , there on the edge at the camp leaning on the bonnet of a Pikey Ford Fiesta was Rose seductively hitching up her skirt, I went over to her grasping her large tits and snogging her greedily while doing a bit of dry humping, Old Knudsen can multi task when the um need arises.

She fumbled at the tie I use for a belt and soon we were having sex the Fiesta bouncing and groaning in pain beneath us, to be honest I hadn't had a woman in about a week to I was a little premature with eagerness etc, well I came and that's what counted also it would make a fine story to tell at the Pub the next night. The only thing that Rose said during our entire encounter was "fuck" that's when I came, like I said a simple people but at least she did know what we were doing .

I staggered home to find some cunt had robbed me hoose, my TV, Boom Box, Baywatch boxed collection all gone, you can't trust anyone so I fell asleep on the floor wondering who could of done such a thing and smiled at my wild conquest of the Romany region.

I awoke the next day to find the camp had gone, the only sign that proved they were there was the smoldering camp fire, the litter and a big pile of feces like ghosts they were I had to smell the feces to believe it had happened at all, the place where the Fiesta was parked had patches of dead grass where my seed had spilled.



In case you young uns still didn't know who Sophia Loren was from the first picture.

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The Gypsies had gone, I was back to my normal life sans Baywatch but a month later I got a big surprise, my dick dropped off, fucking Pikeys, don't worry it eventually grew back but it was thicker and more curly.