Confirmation, without a priest fondling...

Long time no see, or read, pick one you mutafukaz. What hath happened to the DM? Nothing much for the past 2 weeks. Got confirmed at jobo and all that jazz. Now, I work for an advertising company right? Wrong!! The management should change their description to PR. Why? Because that’s what they do best. I swear, you should have been there at that meeting. The smarmy mutafukaz! They smile, hold your hand and give you a bullshit rundown of what is to be in the future and then pay you complete shite.

Anyway, I’m cool. The place has potential for growth and growth is good.

That’s it. I’m done. Finito. Bye.

The Lad's Prayer...

Our beer
Which art in barrels
Hallowed be thy drink
Thy will be drunk
I will be drunk
At home as it is in the local
Forgive us this day our daily spillage
As we forgive those that spillest against us
And lead us not into the poncey practise of wine tasting
And deliver us from alco-pops
For mine is the bitter
The ale and the lager
For ever and ever

Barmen

Cheater...

OK, I lied.

Hood Philosophy...

'There are no greener pastures, they have all been cut, dried and turned to hay.'
These are the deep wordings of some dude in the hood after he saw some gold digger chick from that ho-stel near the digz. The guy had a point, and quite nicely he put it too.

Resolution...

NO MORE WEED ON WEEKDAYS.

Bloody Idiots...

Who the fuck do the Cameroonians think they are? Bloody motherfucking ponces! They would dare claim patronship of the ill fated KQ flight’s black box (which is, ironically, not black at all) for themselves. Fucking idiots! I ask, why would they want the thing? Is there something they want to cover the fuck up? Like their INCOMPETENCE? These clowns could no find a 40 metre long, 40 ton plane FIVE kilometres from the runway of the fucking country’s biggest airport. They went over 100km away to look for the thing and then later decided they were wrong, so they went back and found the wreckage right under their noses. Idiots! Is there something on that black box that could weka those guys in the spot? Hmmm...

I am an aspiring poet. I have posted a few of my works on this blog and will continue to do so. Here goes:

*.AIR
The twist of the hair,
Like birds in the air,
An overpaid basketball player,
The city’s corrupt mayor.

The game is rigged, unfair,
Won by a knight, vampire slayer,
Slink into the mangy beast’s lair,
The city’s corrupt mayor.

The steak they offer is rare,
The shades in the shadows are greyer,
The kids advance a more twisted dare,
The city’s corrupt mayor.

The single splits from the pair,
Gives us all a great big scare,
The head needs repair,
The city’s corrupt mayor.

If you don’t like this then FUCK YOU!!

UGH!

Met this dude jana. He wanted to have some brochures written for his dingbat company that deals with used cars and electronics. Cheap bastard. Doesn’t wanna pay for shit. He offered a pittance for the services and I told him in no uncertain terms to fuck off. But the one thing that struck me was the guy’s breath.

Ugh!

The air coming from the man’s mouth could strip paint. Seriously, you think a dog’s morning breath is bad? This jamaa’s is corrosive like sulphur. I think if somebody stood close enough their skin would peel. And he smokes; how he does it without blowing himself up with the fumes I’ll never know.

Jeez! And again, UGH!