No Country for Old Knudsen

Liar, liar, pants on fire! Howdee folks, this weeks post is all about my ethnic authenticity, or rather how I smudge it depending on where I am in gamers world or occasionally the REAL world. Even the other nerds in Steelport think Old Knudsen is full of poo poo. Which is actually true-true. Read on dear readers. Read on.

My multi cultural background reads like the choice of restaurants on a ship. All be it the Titanic.

From 2006 I was a dyed-in-the-wool haggis munching, tartan wearing Jockstrap. No, Old Knudsen doesn't mean one of those dense material type thingies that hang from your groin and stinks to high heaven after Monday night football. No, Old Knudsen is talking about the country of Scottie Land.

I once had a relative who went on a day trip to the Grampian Islands and spat in his hat and declared himself a full blown Scottie. Naturally, coming from a long line of parasitic shadow chasers, my bloodline was instantly tartan until I reached the age of 21. Trying to fit in with the natives I began to prance and mince whilst wearing a short frock made of a fetching projectile vomit forming tartan. It looked good on me, it matched my eyes which are constantly blood red with a yellow jaundiced speckle. After a while the good people of Hibernian heritage cast me out of their church for homosexual activities amongst other things, but mainly the dirty sexy bits. Although technically robbing graves and skull humping the skeletons was only boyhood zeal.

Eventually I was cast out of Scottie Land with its strange dietry fixation, its ugly women and curiously strange young men who resented my hand on their asses. Not many places left for a low-life homo to hide these days in Europe, so I was forced to cast my sights higher than a schoolboys navel and head over to the only place worse than Scottie Land, Northern Ireland. Little did I know that the filthy dirty streets of Hate Land with its religious bigotry and severely retarded menfolk would be my last resting place after the whole deportation issue of which I am still to divulge.

More on that next week, because right now Old Kndsen is heading into the bathroom for one hell of a shat. The trouble with being a homo is that it destroys the elastic in your sphincter, so when you gotta go you really GOTTA go.

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Go ahead... shat on me again.