I am!

Mr Dan Flaps!

Salad Fingers

Perchance to dream...

The Weedy Shack is a place to play and to dream. Come see for yourselves what delights lie within. Click HERE

Revelation in Flirty Peter's Wood

I was strolling along through Flirty Peter's Wood the other day, when - among the dappled sunlit beauty of it all - I had this thought - 'my life is shit, and I'm a cretin.' It took some time for me to adjust my being to the implications of this revelation. After that time, I decided to kill myself. Yes, clearly I failed, otherwise I wouldn't be writing this.

Running very fast into trees hurts, but it does not kill you.

Aldo Ciccolini - I. Lent

Music Code provided by Song2Play.Com

Have you heard the one about...

Have you heard the one about... no, nor have I.

Anyway, this guy walks into a shop and asks for a packet of fags. The shopkeeper goes to get them; then, for no good reason, shoots him in the nuts. The man falls down screaming, shouting, moaning, groaning... eventually, he looks up at the shopkeeper and asks,
"Wodja do that for!"
And the shopkeeper, shrugging his shoulders replies,
"I did it cause this is a joke gone wrong, and my author is a twisted cunt."
Boom boom!

Up Front With The Weedy Shack

Pilgrims, strollers, stumblers, anons; mumblers, bumblers, fumblers, etceteras - we've been busy at the front of The Weedy Shack. Click HERE to take a look at what has been going on.

The Bearded Tit

Take your choice...

Shack Star 'H'

The late 1990's saw a remarkable flowering of British musical talent. Think about it: there was S Club 7; Hearsay and, of course, Steps. I think every sane commentator would agree that Steps are the pick of the bunch. Not least because they showcased the remarkable talent that is 'H'.


That's 'H' at the top of the picture, in the centre (good ole H, always at the heart of the fun!). Ya gotta love H. He's a right chirpy little chap, and he could throw some shapes. He had, if you'll excuse the pun, the Steps (stop laughing Uncle Lucy, it's not that hilarious!) Last week I went out on to the streets of London, in order to capture what the British public think of him. Here's what I found:

DeBunkem: 'What d'ya think of H from Steps?'
Anon: 'Yoo Englees an yor fuckin bacon an eggs!'
DeBunkem: 'What d'ya think of H from Steps?'
Mandy: 'Ooo, I'd put im in between two bitsa bread an eat him all up I would - he's lurvely, innee!'
DeBunkem: 'Excuse me Sir, what d'ya think of H from Steps?'
Right Wing politician, John Redwood: 'I have to say, I am an S Club 7 man myself. I like Hannah... so sweet and blonde. She'll make some lucky chap a smashing little wife...'
DeBunkem: 'What d'ya think of H from Steps?'
Homeless Person: 'He's a right c... arghh... gnuffn... what ya doin' ya nutter...
I fink he's great. Very talented. Wonderful dancer... is that alright? Can I go now?'

Yes, admittedly I did place that last chap in a head-lock, just as they taught me to do in my Journalism degree; but at least we got an honest opinion out of him in the end. I think you'll agree with me, that H is friggin brilliant, and we love him here in The Weedy Shack.

H looking well sultry.

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...

Back to BlogStream

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!