Naked, Gay and Free (on parole actually)

Not suitable for human consumptiion

I got the idea from my fellow ghey Bloggers to post a naked picture on Thursday because Thursday is Thor's day who was always going about taking ghey pictures of his man meat which as we all know he got from Mago who got it from some midgets.
The hammer which he named 'Mjollnir' (mine is named 'Kenny' as you all know) was powerful and magic even though the shaft was shorter than usual, it got the job done in other words showing us a valuable lesson that *quality and technique* is better than quantity and amateurishness. (is that a word?)

Yes there are parts of me that have never seen the sun. Back when I was younger the only people with tans were the poor black folks working out in the fields and the rich uns were ultraviolet white and well a tan was just for commoners.

Well for yer titillation enjoy the picture, yes it really is me naked, ghey and free.

I was thinking about having superpowers as I was looking at the young weemen on the bus dressed in their tight revealing leopard skin print clothing with a ton of makeup on shivering in the brisk Fresno evening on their way out to some club to dance around their handbags.

The usual invisibility came to mind as I could feel them up un-noticed or watch them as later on they have a drunken shag bent over a wheelie bin in some romantic alley. Everyone thinks about invisibility how boring.

I then thought of a really good one. The power to fire wet concrete from my hands, like the ice-man but with concrete. I could make it set super fast and get paid millions paving 3rd world countries like Canada or Africa.

If someone shot a gun at me my super thick concrete wall would save me and then fall down on them. I could sneakily put speed bumps on the roads where the little boy racers in their Honda civics tear down or fire out bolts of concrete at Mosques and Synagogues breaking their windows and just stand there looking all innocent.

I would be the master of concrete, HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! of course I should have a cool name. I thought about Constructo but that reminds me of the hunky ghey worker in the Village People. So then I though Man-Crete or Con-Man, maybe even Man-Cretion, here is a couple of open questions for you to abuse, what would you call me? and what would yer power be?

I got home with my DVD that I rented out, "Fisting Firemen Four" I had heard good reviews about it and a lot of Oscar buzz.

I opened the box and found they had given me the wrong one, those dopey fuckers. I wasn't going all the way down the road to change it so I put it into my recently *found* DVD player.

It was some space film I had never heard of called, "Space heroes" The hero of the film had a chip on his shoulder when he failed at something resulting in the deaths of millions. He was talking to an alien mate of his who had just made a mistake, he said, "I know how you feel fucking up and all" I'm paraphrasing here. The Alien said "No I welcome what you Earthlings call 'fucking up' because then I get the chance to learn from my mistakes," then he said some words of wisdom that really made me think." Those who never try never fail" this theme makes a comeback near the end of the film when the hero hears those words like Obi-wan Kenobi in Star Wars to Luke and it motivates him. I can't remember too much about the end as I was too pished.

I did learn something valuable, "Those who never try never fail" so to not put yerself in the position of being a loser or failure you should never try. Getting the wrong DVD must have been a message straight from god. Enough, I'm off for a shit and a wank, just not sure in which order though.

*If the police ask thats my story*

Top Fun with Old Ghey Knudsen

During the Thatcher regime in Britain we enjoyed having a ton of horny Yank soldiers over, it almost reminded me of the war when I was selling an hour of my three sisters time for American nylons and chocolate, that was during my fat cross dressing phase that I don't want to talk about .
Retirement had bored me plus my sisters had seriously gone down hill in the last 40 years so I signed up for the Ghey Knights jet fighter school at the local US military base.

We all had to be given nicknames or call signs, I had anal fetish about darkies at the time so I was named 'Loosesphincter' the navigator who would fly with me was named 'Duck.' One day we got a top flight instructor call signed Charlie. I was expecting some bloke to come walking in and what do you know I was right, he did have lovely long blond hair though. Charlie went through a dog fight scenario and then asked what I would do, I frowned as if I was giving it some thought but really it was me hemorrhoids acting up and I answered "Kick his pan in" Charlie said that was too aggressive, too intense but I knew he liked me, in a strictly military way of course.

While flying with Duck on a training flight we spotted a couple of Zebulon fighter saucers, the ones George W Bush said didn't exist,  now those damned dirty aliens know better than to mess with Earth after the last time (The battle of Roswell 1947) but they were taking the piss. My instruments told me they had their space rays locked on and I couldn't avoid them so I shouted, "duck" and he said "what?" so I shouted "duck, duck!" but it was too late for Duck to duck and he got zapped, yep his goose was cooked alright.

The plane went out of control, I'm not violent by nature but I gurly-slapped us out of the cock-pit, ever been punched in the cock-pit? its fucking sore, why do they make men's bikes with a high cross bar you can land on? designed by men-haters, er I mean feminists no doubt.

We landed in the freezing sea off the Oirish coast, the water would kill a Canadian or Yank in 15 minutes but not me, being an old semen I tasted the water and I could tell what current I was in. I'd be close to land in about 6 hours, yay! oh they don't bother looking for us as their budget for the 'Homoeroticus expendables' was quite limited. I held onto dear dead Duck and waited to drift home and hoped for his sake we'd get picked up before I got hungry.

Getting back to the base Charlie consoled me about losing Duck, no really, the morgue lost him the useless cunts. I wanted to teach the Zebulons a lesson so after giving a strange darkie or two a BJ, shower, shit and a shave I went looking for another plane. Stabber was recovering after a knife fight so I took his plane along with his navigator Emo. After hearing about how no one understands him and that he just doesn't like navigating he cares about it, oh and don't forget the crying, we took off in search of some revenge.

We jetted through the air and I shouted, "I feel the need, the need for some crack" but all Emo had were a few damp acid tabs so I took them.

On my CB radio I could hear there was a dogfight in progress, the Zebulons had cum out of the sun and shot doon Zipper, Ice-cream man was holding his own, I said, "we lose no more men today" and revved the plane up to 55 mph, I meant business.

Ice-cream man was panicking, "bogeys all over me" he shouted, I spoke up, "use yer sleeve like everyone else ya cunt" and set to work attacking the Zebulons. I shot down two and the other three bugged out.

When we returned to base Ice-cream man came over to me and said "you! you can wipe my nose any day" and placed a cap on my head that said Top Gun on it, I was able to exchange it for one that said "ghey and free."

Charlie got reassigned which is just as well I've had enough unhealthy relationships in my time, with my new hat I got all the darkie cock I wanted and the odd bit of ass too.

I wrote a song about Charlie called, "Take my breath away" it was about how I was allergic to his aftershave and couldn't breathe.

I sold my story to some Yank with more money than sense, no idea why he wanted it of course I left out how we carpet bombed the Zebulon homeworld to stop their attacks, its hard to attack when you are neck high in carpets and the Zebulons aren't very tall.

Old Knudsen is still Buy-Sexual, but he keeps his feet on the ground these days, other than when he has them tucked behind his ears when he is getting pumped up the shitter by Mexican boys. I'm so full of the horn I have to sometimes pay for sex as wanking, pocket pussys, actual cats and jars of liver tend to get dull or go off after a while and I need the thrill, plus I'm fucking sick of eating the liver afterwards, waste not want not.
Don't judge me ya cunts I'm a ghey sex addict so its no my fault.

So seriously no offense to the Yanks. but why would you want to be a fucking American when you could be normal? I just don't get it.

My Sect Secrets - Old Knudsen

In November of 98 I got mixed up with some very strange peeple. I joined what I thought was a cockfighting ring of retired merchant semen, they were real odd balls, hence me thinking it was a version of the very ghey Masons. It turned out to be something called the Order of Old War Deserters. I don't expect many of you to have heard of it, they are very secret and their location can only be deciphered by watching re-runs of Gilligan and the Professor backwards. I caught the eye of a young man named Ian Paisley who soon went on to call himself the King of Eyeland and took over the moniker of the worlds most razor-slashed man, Jimmie the ugly Bastard, a nasty piece of haggis shit with more tram lines than Belgium. Well it was more of a stage name after his army boxing career that so nearly took off if it hadn't been for the fact that he, like me, is a cowardly cunt.

The Ghey Order was into gray magic, a version of black magic, but no darkies were allowed. Don't get me started on those darkies....... Gray magic enlarges a mans penis and increases the chances of dispatching semenal elementals to kill your enemy. The man-chicks go nuts for that sort of thing, in fact that's where I met my second husband Alfredo. No wait, that was actually my third husband, I get so confused, sometimes I think I have a sign on me forehead that only weemen and the odd ghey can see that says,"use my face for sex", now I'm not complaining, did ya hear me complain? No, just so ya know, after Old Knudsen gets his there's none of that cuddlin shite going on, it's a long stinky phart and I'm straight to sleep and you had better make me a cup of tea before you leave in the morning. Don't think I'm a playa, (I'm not dead yet I can use that word) I consider myself a bit of a romantic, not only will I make sure that the bed sheets were washed that month I always have one of them blue tablets to drop into the toilet's water tank to turn the water blue, I know what other ghey men like, anyway why the fuck am I giving away my secrets of seduction?

Back to what I was almost talking about, Paisley was a junkie arsehole, no wonder he saw Spirits and Demons with the amount of drugs he took, me on the other hand am the real thing my Spirit guide on the other side, Chief Eagle Droppings, told me to stop banging Paisley's wife or get "fuckin kneecapped". My other Spirit guide, Chief Hom Osexual,  told me to give him a last seeing to as the poor dude would miss me. I'm a sucker for a sob story, as well as a well hung cock, but my other Spirit guide, Chief Brown Eye, said " thankyou for taking the time to visit my astral plane and taking a shit on my porcelain" the fucker, don't you just hate it when they say that?

The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing ... so you lot should be on fcuking camels following a star.
You can tell more about a person by what he says about others than you can by what others say about him..... Everyone says Old Knudsen is so funny and lovely, he thinks you lot are cunts..... not sure if that says anything about Old Knudsen other than being a good judge of character.
Going to church doesn’t make you a Christian, anymore than standing in yer garage makes you a Volkswagon.... Old Knudsen made a sandwich once, yer Ma was the meat.

Pay no mind to those who talk behind your back because that simply means you’re two steps ahead..... Ka - Chow! 

Ok the skeptical cunts amongst you will say its all coincidence, statistics show that every 23 minutes a Canadian will do an Intershed search for ghey or bisexual dirty words, so if you are a durty old seal clubber that gets your jollies off by ogling porn, the chances are you'll get a hit from a dumbass (why are they such dirty shites?) well ok, my clever use of  Ontario Rimjob in one of my titles did catch someone. :::Waves at the lezzer.:::

Just so you know, I accepted Jesus as my personal trainer so no more late night sex magick rites followed by a sacrifice and a barbeque, oh no,at 10 pm its a cup of Bovril followed by 12 beers then its off to bed for me until I wake up in a pool of piss or vomit (sometimes both) then I get up and have a good blog to clear my system.