Trouble in The Shack

There's trouble in The Weedy Shack. Go round the front, to 'Rambling in The Weedy Shack' to check out the story.

ANONYMOUS MOUSES

Hello there, my name is Abraham DeBunkem and I'm a co-author of this blog. Now, one of the things Dan (the other half of our team) and I like to do, is piss about commenting on this and other blogs on the Blogger network; often making up fictional identities for a laugh. Quite frankly, this is often a puerile endeavour - but then we are both fickle, frivolous, irreverent tossers (yes we are!). In other words, there is a (twisted) rationale for our invention and anonymity in this context - we're trying to be funny...

However, something really puzzles me: why do 'serious' commentors leave anonymous comments? Who are you people? Come out of the shadows please. Are you gutless little mice ? (Or 'mouses' as we like to say, here in The Shack) Come on, don't be so timid. Let people know who you are.

Caro Zen Spiderpeace

Hippy lovester, Caro Zen Spiderpeace, says that his, 'head is in a bad space right now', following the attack on him in London's Charles Hawtrey Community Centre, right in the 'ert of the ole East End. When asked if he felt love for his attackers, Caro responded with an extraordinary barage of expletives (which we will not repeat for fear of offending the weak-minded).

Hours later, our roving reporter photographed him after he had paid a visit to the barbers, and signed up to the Right Wing United Kingdom Independence Party (or 'U Bastards', as they are sometimes referred to as).

Caro, leaving the UKIP headquarters.

The said reporter then proceeded to challenge Caro regarding this remarkable volte face, but Caro simply punched him in the face five times, saying, 'we're not fascists in blazers, you little Commie cunt!'

Quite extraordinary!

BACK TO THE FRONT OF THE WEEDY SHACK

Chop

Have you ever chopped a body part off of yourself? If so, why?

Click HERE to go to the front of The Weedy Shack

Test

Look

Body-Warmers...

Today, we are going to be discussing Body-Warmers. I have a good friend who is now a man of considerable influence. Here he is:


Many years ago his dad bought him a body-warmer for Christmas. Not wanting to offend his old man, he wore it throughout the festive period, meeting with regular choruses of approval from elderly relatives - "doesn't Michael look smart in his body-warmer." Trouble was that Michael might've looked 'smart', but he also looked a complete pratt.

Not only that, but experts agree that it is impossible to be sexy in a body-warmer. Naturally Michael was quietly distraught at the prospect of being neutered by such insidious means.

An otherwise desirable couple, de-sexed
by highly powerful quilted anarok-style
body-warmers.

I have it on good authority that the American military are currently experimenting with the Body-Warmer as a means to diffuse sexual tensions between the ranks. Anyway, Michael became more and more frustrated at the 'straight-jacket' he was constrained within; until one day he snapped and cut all the sleeves of off his parents' coats, and burnt them in a fire full of fierce redemptive flames.

I am glad to say that his dad was very understanding, and sat down with Michael, only punching him five times in the face. Michael, bleeding, said to his father:
"Dad I will never bare my arms in public again. Instead, I am going to design an all-in-one bodystocking and campaign against the scourge of the Body-Warmer. Now I'm leaving home to seek refuge with Abraham DeBunkem. He's just built a Shack and it's a happening place where all freakoids and outsiders are welcomed. Bye dad."

A short fight followed during which Michael was elevated into a shadow of his former self. That night he left home and was dragged into The Shack, unconscious, by Wee Davy. He lived with us for one year one month and one day, before one night moving on to new challenges. This is a story...

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Colonel Hampton's Lawn

There it is, Colonel Hampton's typical English lawn. In the distance you will observe the anaesthetized white bench where he sits in silence with The Wife, Keith. He insists that they always maintain a strict two-and-a-half inches distance between them.
"We're not blasted Frog's ya know!" booms the Colonel, shunning any hint of intimacy.

Just look at those stripes and the manicured madness of those borders. This is the law of order which the Colonel demands -
"A place for everything, and everything in it's place!"

I have to say, I think he's a right old cunt, so I am glad that Wee Davy broke free from his bindings (once again!) and did this:


















*PLEASE NOTE: It would please us greatly if you leave comments below. You don't have to belong to this network to do so, and you are free to create characters under the 'other' option. Have fun dudes!

Also, if one wishes, one can pay a visit to the front of The Weedy Shack, and catch up with more ramblings, by clicking HERE

The Corruption of Shopper's Minds!

Asda's 'Rollback' campaign... will their smutty innuedo ever stop!!!

*PLEASE NOTE: It would please us greatly if you leave comments below. You don't have to belong to this network to do so, and you are free to create characters under the 'other' option. Have fun dudes!

Also, if one wishes, one can pay a visit to the front of The Weedy Shack, and catch up with more ramblings, by clicking HERE

DeBunkem's Tips for Shack Living - Bath Toy Tips

I know that today's young person tends to prefer the convenience of the shower, to the laid-back leisurely enjoyment of a good hot bath. Myself, I love a nice bath - mmm, bubbly bubbly. Quite often I find myself inspired to take things into my own hand and work up a bit of a lather. For quite a long while there was a serious drawback to this pursuit, however. For what is a chap to do with his issue at the conclusion of exertion. Messy business, flinging the string! Recently though, I have devised a really handy solution to this dilemna. This is how it goes:
1/ Approach your 'moment' - go on, give it some!!!
2/ Cup the man-fat in one hand (the 'seed hand')
3/ With the other, pull out the bath-plug
4/ Now, lower the tightly cupped seed hand below the water and open the hand and you will be amazed as your gene juice is sucked down the plughole.

There you are, lovely clean hands.

Try it.

*PLEASE NOTE: It would please us greatly if you leave comments below. You don't have to belong to this network to do so, and you are free to create characters under the 'other' option. Have fun dudes!

Also, if one wishes, one can pay a visit to the front of The Weedy Shack, and catch up with more ramblings, by clicking HERE

LATEST - Shocking revelation!

DeBunkem reveals a shocking revelation in his rambles on the other side of The Weedy Shack.
Click here to check it out.

The Colonel's After Us!!!!

Shit! Monty tells me that we have really pissed off old Colonel Hampton (that's him, there).

He's the old duffer who lives in the Hall at the back of our Shack. He's a right miserable fucker, always going on about our noise; our "mess"; our weeds - and, especially, the laughter. Not only that, the tweedy derelict old bastard hates Sylvanian's. Calls them "little devils", and blasts his twelve-bore at them, indiscrimately. Whenever he sees me out in my bikini he shouts out "Communist! Faggot!" and the like. Perhaps he is also a little riled seeing as an entirely sober Dan thieved a pair of his tweedy underpants in a moment of clarity...

This could spell trouble for us. I'd better tell Dan!

BACK to front of Shack.

*PLEASE NOTE: It would please us greatly if you leave comments below. You don't have to belong to this network to do so, and you are free to create characters under the 'other' option. Have fun dudes!

Letter to Stanley Clarke

"Dear Stanley,
It is November 2006, and I am listening to your album, 'Journey to Love' - had me dancing in my leotard earlier, it did! Anyway, I noticed on the cover reverse that you want people to write to you, so here we are.

My name is Abraham DeBunkem and I live in England, in a magical place we call, 'The Weedy Shack'. I hang out here with my best buddy, Dan, and all our other menagerie of friends and characters. In particular, we are graced here by the presence of an incredibly precocious three inch high wise weasel called Monty. He is (metaphorically speaking) a huge fan of yours, and, indeed, turned me on to your funky bass licks.

You may recall that you have met Monty, Dan and I back in 1975, when your were sitting by the window. In case you need your memory jogging a little, I was the one wearing a black crush-velvet bikini; you know, the geezer with the beehive hairdo (composed from back-combing my shoulder hair, incidently!). It really was a pleasure to meet you in person, and I'd just like to say that we think that your reaction to 'the incident' was very gracious. We agreed that you were one seriously classy cat Stanley, sitting there so patiently and tranquil. You the Man!

Salutations!
~ Abraham DeBunkem"

*PLEASE NOTE: It would please us greatly if you leave comments below. You don't have to belong to this network to do so, and you are free to create characters under the 'other' option. Have fun dudes!

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Our Stern Uncles

Our Shack is a great place to hang out, generally. But like everywhere, we have our 'dissident elements' (as Monty puts it). These are our two Stern Uncles. They are inseperable, and stand in the shadows, scowling and bringing down the vibe. Many a time has one of Dan's hilarious potato jokes fallen splat on their miserable mugs! It's like they're the humour vortex or somethink. Many a time I've urged them to stop being Stiff Herberts and to put on a slinky little bikini, but they just beat the living crap out of me for that. As for poetry nights - well, you can forget it.
"Poetry's for poofters son," they snarl.
Uncultured oafs! Still, we don't let the Stern's get us down. We laugh whilst they punch us, and do all our silly shit, regardless.
BLOGSTREAM'S HERE

Right Wing folk

The Land of Azerbaigum

The land of Azerbaigum is a black and white place, where everyone is permanently exhausted through walking too fast - you know, like in the old movies. It is where we Shackers go for our holidays (we have a dacha there!).

One thing they have there though is oil. And it is this that allows them to do what ever they fucking well like. When quizzed about their abyssmal human rights record, officials simply growl, "cockska" (Azerbaigumbian for 'fuck you'). A recent report by Amnesty International describes a litany of abuses, including prolonged exposure to Manilow. Referring to this venal practice, an Amnesty spokesperson said - "Along with Hucknell, exposure to Manilow is a completely inhumane practice; one which we condemn in the strongest probable terms."

Finally, in common with Iraq, Azerbaigum loves the moustache. Everyone wears them - even the menfolk.

Here's to Blogstream