No To Knudsen

America Wants You!

But sadly it doesn't want me.

Now I live amongst the bogtrotters in Northern Ireland, home to red handed lunatics and football manager murderers. Just the latest of identities I am forced to assume in case the police catch up with me for being a sexual deviant where young boys fear to tread, where farmyard animals are too scared to cluck, squeal, bark or moooo. Begorrrrrrrrrrrah indeed. God bless the Pope, at least he loves me and he is higher than God. The food here is bland, grey and smells of cabbage, possibly because it is fucking cabbage. The Bud is black, far blacker than the black guys of Fresno, aint that the truth? They don't have bagles, Fanta, proper fries nor dips. Chips are crisps and crisps are chips, an upside down topsy turvy world of fucking tickos of which I fit right in. I have a part time job as an elf in a fantasy theme town known as Limerick. The pay is crap, the uniform is awesome, I get to wear it on my day off and the occasional weekend. If I have to eat one more pigs trotter I am going to puke. Fucking place, please send me back to Fresno. Puh-lease!

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Go ahead... shat on me again.